#this is sort of a two-fer as it were

[theholmwoodfoundation]

RECORDING Madeline Townsend - Job Interview for the position of Junior Archivist at The Holmwood Foundation- Westenra Building- Whitby. Overseen by Jeremy Larkin, Branch Director.

[A video-meeting app on a computer screen. Madeline Townsend is displayed on the right hand side, smiling nervously in a blouse and pale yellow cardigan, behind a backdrop of a small, well-stocked bookcase. Jeremy Larkin is displayed on the left side, unsmiling in an expensive grey suit, his windowless office behind him. He reads from a printed sheet.] J: …Mr Jones’ letter of recommendation is certainly glowing. We are, of course, aware of your relationship— M: I’m grateful for his support. But, please, I just want to do a good job. If you need to disregard his letter for any reason— J: Hm. [He makes a note offscreen. Maddie’s smile wilts slightly, but brightens again as he looks back up] J: And has Mr Jones explained the full roster of duties to you? M: Well, not all of them, of course! I know there are… one or two NDAs involved… J: [He sighs] Frankly, Ms Townsend, one or two is on the lighter end. And this doesn’t concern you? M: I’m aware that what goes on here is under the tightest security, but if Arthur thinks I can handle it, then I’m willing to try. [A pause, she laughs] Can’t be much worse than Year 9’s on a Wednesday Afternoon! [Another pause. Jeremy glances at another sheet of notes.] J: Yes, you were a history teacher before this, correct? M: Yes. Uh, correct. For about ten years. J: And this has given you the skills necessary for archival work? M: Well, I have a postgraduate degree in archival conservation, and experience in records management at [REDACTED] University, where I finished my Masters in Medieval history, with a secondary interest in late Victorian literature— [she pauses, blushing slightly] I suppose what I’m trying to say is…I’d quite like a break from the teaching side of things. At least for a term of two. I’ve always enjoyed archival work… [Jeremy sits back, his expression both mildly impressed and somewhat bewildered.] J: …And with all that, you want to work here? M: Well…yes. Is there something wrong with that? J: No. no. Nothing wrong at all. [he sighs] I suppose we all have the luxury of choice.

-Extract from Video Recording, Late April 2024

[entitled-fangirl]

Too needy.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: the reader naturally has to be touching Cregan at all times. He doesn't mind, but her insecurity starts to get the better of her.

Warnings: insecurity, talks of sex

A/n: Based off an ask! I'll proofread later

Masterlist

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He didn't react to her touches as much anymore, for they were constant. 

Winterfell expanded far and wide, and as much as her mind had tried to remember every corridor, she couldn't. 

So she always held on to him to keep from getting lost. 

At least, that was the excuse at first. Now, it was a comfort.

She held his hand, his arm, his cloak, the handle of the sword in his belt, anything that she could when they walked together.

Even now in the courtyard, she held fast to his cloak as he spoke with the stable master on a matter of his horse.

She looked around, her head on a constant swivel but her hand never faltered.

But she began to notice something.

A few that passed by had looked down at the hand that was still at Cregan's cloak and an insecurity was being prodded at.

She had noticed it for weeks now.

Perhaps they believed her to be too needy.

Perhaps they were right. 

The insecurity began to eat at her.

"Well, I thank you for your work regardless," Cregan continued to speak to the stable master, "My horse has never been more reliable. Do tell me what you believe abo-"

She zoned out from there. She was far too engrossed in noticing every little stare that came her way.

She dropped her hand from his cloak and let it fall to her side.

Cregan looked away from the man for only a moment to gaze at her. He looked down at her hand and immediately reached out and grabbed it. He then gave his attention back to the man as if nothing had happened. "Oh, I agree that when-"

She just stared down at their intertwined hands. 

She tried to ignore the fluttering in her stomach when he'd lightly squeeze her fingers with his own.

…

The next day, the insecurity came again when at the petitions.

Cregan never sat behind the table as the maester did. He was always in front of it, pacing back and forth or sitting on the wooden surface itself.

Whether it was to be more inviting or more intimidating, no one was sure.

So when she joined him occasionally, he'd set her onto the table. She always figured he did it to comfort her, knowing she hated to be more than two steps away from him.

And when she'd sit there with her feet dangling inches from the ground, Cregan would stay put, not letting himself pace. He'd lean against the hardy table with his big arms crossed and brow furrowed as he paid attention to whatever the next person said. 

He cared greatly for his people, and he cared greatly for his wife.

So often during these times, her hand would be on his arm, or his hand on her leg. It was a pattern they had developed over their time together.

But today was different, for the insecurity was back.

His bicep brushed against her shoulder unconsciously as his body unknowingly inched closer to her by the minute.

"I've gotta herd to care fer," the man petitioned. "And these wolves keep takin' my flock. There's been at least six of em out there snapping at my shepherds."

Cregan hummed in consideration. "Aye, your flock helps to feed Winterfell through the winter often. Tell me what solution you've come here hoping for."

The man rubbed his beard, "Well, I was hoping fer some men to help me hunt the beasts down."

Cregan chewed the inside of his cheek in thought as his shoulder brushed against his wife again.

He turned his head to her, letting his eyes rake over her as they often did. An idea came into his head.

"Alright," he agreed as he looked to the man again. "You'll have 12 men for 9 nights to sort the matter over. I'll pay for their lodging and food."

The man's eyes widened, "Oh, thank you milord. Bless you!"

"But," Cregan quickly countered with a tilted head. "I receive the coat of every wolf dead in those 9 nights."

"Consider it done, milord! Oh, thank you!"

Cregan held a hand up, "'Tis my duties. They'll be yours by the morrow."

The man left with a continued string of thanks as he left. 

"What need have we for more pelts?" She asked quietly.

Cregan's head turned to her and a small smirk pulled at his lips. "You've far too few proper cloaks."

She opened her mouth to make a small petition of her own, but the next person stepped up.

It was an older man with a permanent furrow to his brow. 

She didn't miss the way his eyes wandered over to her, utterly disgusted by the informality of Cregan's petitions.

Cregan noticed it too, and he reached over and rested his hand on her knee. He touch was light. Just a reminder that he stood next to her.

"What might the Starks do for you?" Cregan's voice echoed as he studied him.

The man's request was lost. All she could think about was Cregan's hand on her knee. 

In all truth, she had missed his touch more than she believed she should have. After all, she got it constantly. But as of the last 24 hours, she had tried to draw back from his contact.

So when his thumb brushed softly over the side of her knee, she felt a shiver run down her spine. 

She held her hands back by picking at the skin around her nails. It was a nasty habit she had picked up when she was younger. It often made comebacks when she was nervous or stressed.

Without even looking, Cregan's hand moved from her knee to grab at her hands, breaking them up to keep her from further hurting herself. How he knew without looking, she was unsure. 

But he took one of her hands and pulled it to her knee, placing it down and keeping it there with his much larger palm over the top of it. His fingers played with hers absentmindedly as he negotiated with the man about gods know what.

That nagging feeling returned in her gut as she watched his fingers brush over hers. 

She was so needy that he felt forced to comfort her in the midst of his duties. 

How pathetic.

She managed to pull her hand out from under his despite his quick reaction to try to stop her. However, he didn't grab her hand in time and he knew better than to cause a scene over it. So he pretended not to notice.

When the man was satisfied and left, she began to push herself to the edge of the table to get up. 

Cregan stood in front of her with a hand up, "Where are you going?"

"Just… to sit."

His head tilted down to catch her gaze. "To sit…? Where?"

"The…" she turned to look over her shoulder to the other side of the table. "The chairs."

His eyes squinted at her as he tried to comprehend what she had just told him, as if it was some unthinkable idea that had just been uttered. "Why would you do that?" He finally voiced. His eyes softened, "Do you need a break? We can pause for a while-"

"-No," she quickly interrupted. Her hands reached up to  move to his chest as they usually did, but she stopped halfway and let them drop back down to her lap.

It was beginning to frustrate Cregan. He was no dull man by any means. He had noticed her touches lessening, but he didn't question it at first until she began to retract from him.

"If you need no break then you'll stay here until we are finished," he softly commanded. 

She gave in almost immediately with the nod of her head.

He nodded as well, wishing to seem pleased, but further down he was trying to figure out what had caused her to be so odd as of late. He sighed and gripped her waist, pushing her back up to the table as before. He then turned and motioned for the next person to approach.

Cregan tried to pay attention this time, he really did, but it was harder to now that he had two problems to try to fix at once. And one them was far more important to him. 

He nodded along with the man for a while then tried to test his luck again, reaching over to place his hand on her knee again. But this time, his hand fell to the wood.

He looked over when he felt the coarse wood as began to stare dumbfounded at his hand.

His wife had slowly moved herself from him by about 10 centimeters.

His hand balled up into a fist for a moment before he forced to it relax. He held his other hand up and completely cut off the man speaking. "Forgive me. We're done for a moment. I require some time to collect my thoughts here."

The man jaw went slack for a moment and the maester spoke up. "Lord Stark, it's unwise to pause in the middle of-"

Cregan's glare shut him up.

"Now," Cregan said as he stood to full height. "I shall return momentarily." He stepped over to his wife, "Get up."

His voice held unresolved tension to it and it made her panic. Her shaky hands pushed her to the end of the table and onto her feet. 

Cregan's hand reached out to grab hers then paused, remembering why they were having this miscommunication in the first place and it only frustrated him more when he pulled his hand back. "Go on," he motioned to the door and quickly followed behind her. 

Just hearing the northern man's heavy footsteps close behind them would make even the bravest man falter. 

The moment the side door closed behind them, he grabbed her bicep and spun her around to him. "What are you doing?" He growled.

She couldn't make words come from her mouth, so she only shrugged a bit and gave a pitiful expression.

"Don't. You will speak to me and tell me what has caused all of this. Whatever this is," he huffed. "I don't know what it is, but I know that I hate it."

Her voice came out more broken than she intended, "I didn't mean to anger you."

Her words cause Cregan to release her bicep and take a step back from her. He runs a hand over his goatee. He tried to hide the anger from his voice this time, "I imagine you didn't. However, in no instance should you believe that pulling away from me wouldn't make me frustrated. I like having you near me. Have I not said that enough?"

"You have-"

"-You don't want my hands on you," he finished with a horrified look brewing in his eyes. "That is… fair. That is all we must say then."

"No, no, please don't!" She pleased.

He threw his hands up and let his emotions run free again, "Then what would you have me do? You want my touch but the second I give it to you, you shy away from me. I attempt to comfort your worries and you push my hand away." With each sentence, he gets closer. "Do you truly believe me so incompetent as your husband that I have not noticed your touches have become less and less on my skin? Did you think I would not notice the thing I look forward to the most suddenly disappear?"

He stops and the two just stare at one another. 

"I crave it," he whispered.

Hot tears pricked up against her eyes, threatening to fall. She sniffled in an attempt to hold everything in.

Cregan wills his hand out to brush against her cheek. "Why have you stopped?"

She finds herself leaning into his hand, and there’s no denying that she didn't yearn for his touch as well. "…the people…"

He tries to follow along, but a frown tugs at his lips. "I still don't understand."

She opened her mouth the speak, but a soft sob breaks through and she steps back from him.

He closed the gap once again, this time grabbing her face with both hands in an attempt to calm her. "Shh, stop that. My anger is through. I just wish to help you.:

She held back the rising sobs to speak with a shaky voice, "I'm far too… needy… to be your Lady."

HIs jaw goes slack as pure confusion washes over him. He took a moment to regain himself before speaking. "I swear to you that you are not." He forces her head up to catch his eye. "Do you hear me?" She nodded, but he tilted his head, "I need to hear you say it."

That forced a few more tears down her cheek.

"I have to hear you say it," he almost pleaded. "Tell me that you're perfect for me."

A hesitation came over her, but she pushed through at the sight of his gaze. "I…. "

He waited with bated breath. "You're what? Say it."

"I'm perfect for you."

A broad smile came over him. "Now I want you to believe that, yeah?" He pulled her in and gave her a searing kiss that made her lose her train of thought. "We are returning, and you will do anything that makes you better."

"Is that not improper?"

He scoffed, "I do not care if you were straddling me as you've done in our bed. If you're comfortable, then I am doing my duty to you."

She blushed deeply and playfully hit his arm. "I would not do that."

"I know that." He kissed her forehead and moved from her. "Shall we?" He asked with an extended arm.

She took it happily.

He leaned down as the door opened, "If that hadn't worked, I'd have hoped you would cave tonight when you truly crave my touch."

She entered the hall with a face darker than Lannister red.

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A/n 2: I'm updating my taglist, so if I somehow missed anyone that wants on it, lmk!

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123

[uhhlifeig]

Hagrid's Hut - Nov. 4 - word count: 403 - @wolfstarmicrofic

The soft clink of teacups and the crackling fire filled Hagrid’s hut as two figures sat next to each other, their chairs at a rickety wooden table. 

The hut was warm and dimly lit, with an earthy, herbal scent from the mugs of tea in front of them.

Sirius Lupin swirled his with a spoon, eyes twinkling as he leaned back, grinning. “Remember that time we snuck out to the Forbidden Forest? In second year?”

Remus chuckled, wrapping his hands around his warm mug. “When James got us lost?”

His husband snorted. “Duh. He had the worst sense of direction, before fifth year. You were the one who finally led us back. If it were up to James, we’d still be in the forest.”

“Not my proudest moment,” the werewolf said with a smirk, “but I think the centaurs got a good laugh out of it.”

They both laughed, lost for a moment in the memories. 

Hagrid, bustling in the corner, set down a plate of scones. “Ah, you lot were a handful, that’s fer sure,” he said with a broad grin. “Dumbledore would look th’ other way, but McGonagall… well, she had a look on her that could freeze a mountain troll, and that’s sayin’ somethin’!”

Sirius grinned. “Oh, Minnie. I swear, every time she confiscated a dungbomb, she’d keep it somewhere she knew we could find it. I think she had a soft spot for us Marauders.”

Remus laughed, shaking his head. “Sirius, you’re absurd. McGonagall was horrified.”

“Only mildly,” the dog animagus winked. “In a fond sort of way.”

Hagrid chuckled, balancing a teacup on his hand. “She might not admit it, but she loves ye, all four of ye, like her own. And yeh sure gave her a lot o’ gray hairs in return.”

The younger man sighed, looking into his tea with a fond smile. “Those were good days,” he murmured, quieter now. “Before… well, everything.”

“Moony, you dramatic fuck, Prongs and Red are outside with Harry and Wormtail and Reggie. What are you talking about?”

“Sorry. Sometimes that nightmare I had a few Halloweens ago just- comes back. It always feels too real, y’know?” Remus sighed, rubbing his eyes.

There was a beat of silence before Sirius sat up straight. “Oh! The one where I went to Azkaban? And Harry was orphaned and Peter betrayed us all? And Alice and Frank went insane?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

[loveephia]

you as inarizaki's beautiful manager..

↳ nekoma ver. | shiratorizawa ver.

fukurodani ver. | aoba johsai ver.

- inarizaki literally holds the title of being the 2nd strongest vb team in the entire nation

- if that doesn't scare you, IDK ANYMORe

- you could trip, and they'd probably snicker at you 😭😭

- anyway, you kinda just joined the team so that you have something to add to your resumé

- everyone is thrilled

- you know some of the players since they're quite popular

- kita is so handsome

- suna just has this deadpan expression on his face. scary.

- "i'm sure you already know who i am." atsumu, no

- "hey, m'osamu." at least he had the decency to humbly introduce himself, unlike his twin

- aran is an absolute sweetheart

- you're one of the very few people he respects on this team.

- ren also had a deadpan expression, but he did nod at you, so that's something

- kita is so handsome

- AKAGI WELCOMED YOU WITH OPEN ARMS

- you are now bffls aka best friends for life 🤞🤞

- ginjima thinks you're brave for managing such a fiery team, so you've automatically earned his respect

- riseki wants to talk to you, but you're so pretty that he's afraid he'll mess up his own sentences 😭

- kosaku gives you two thumbs up of encouragement because this year is going to be hectic for you

- kita is so handsome

- practice starts, and you're still learning the reigns, not really speaking all that much since you're quick introduction a while ago

- you're drying their bibs, taking down notes for when's their next practice match, refilling water bottles

- ya know, all that stuff

- why are there so many STRAYS

- you swear you're getting some sort of arthritis from the number of times you had to bend down and pick up a ball

- yeah, so as it turns out, the 2nd years were doing this on purpose

- they wanted to talk to you 😔

- EVEN SUNA

- MAYBE IF YOU WEREN'T SO MYSTERIOUS AND PRETTY THEY WOULDN'T BE DOING THIS!!

- one of these strays actually happened to hit you in the face

- courtesy of atsumu 🙂

- osamu has waited for this moment all of his life

- (for atsumu to look like a bumbling fool in front of a pretty girl)

- that's one thing crossed off of his bucket list, that's for sure

- of course, with atsumu's enormous amount of pride, he blames it on you

- "WHY WERE YOU JUST STANDIN' THERE?!" in your defence, you were literally on the sidelines reading about the rules of volleyball. how was any of this your fault??

- kita gives him a sharp glare, almost as if he's scolding him, and what happens next is like magic

- he managed to get THE atsumu miya to quietly mumble a "sorry." TO YOU.

- and so you continue on with your day!!

- you didn't scold him

- now me personally,

- joking

- practice is finally over, and it's dark out

- you usually walk home as soon as school is over, but since you stayed behind a couple of hours helping out the team, you're sceptical of walking alone

- kita, sensing your uneasiness, offers to walk with you

- you love him so much you just want to bite his cheeks cuteness aggression

- you oblige, and it just so happens that the miya twins are heading the same way you are!!

- suna and aran see them and catch up

- "don't you live all the way in the other neighborho—?"

- "shut up, suna—!"

- so, now you're walking home with five bodyguards!! which was literally just what you needed

- they make a quick stop at a convenience store, and atsumu buys you a popsicle

- "consider it as an.." come on 'tsumu SWALLOW YOUR PRIDE

- "apology fer hitting you earlier."

- you smile, accepting the peace offering. "thank you."

- YOU SMILED.

- FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER TODAY.

- atsumu pretty much froze on the spot there, literally taken aback from how pretty your smile is

- dude, you got even the other boys staring at you

- you think it's a bit creepy, though.

- "oi, knock it off. stop staring at me."

- kita clears his throat and looks away from you because this time, he thought you were beautiful

- once you're finally home, you bid the others goodbye and flop onto your bed already looking forward to tomorrow's practice

©blushlani | lowercase intended

[scudslut]

A Summer Wasting

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 0.8k

warnings: nothing, just pure fluff 🫶🏻

The falling sun felt warm against your skin as you walk through the prison courtyard. You’ve always enjoyed the Georgian sunsets growing up; after a long day of brutal heat, the world gave a soft reprieve, illuminating the sky in its vast colours for anybody to enjoy, pessimist or not.

These days it was hard not to be… with death looming around each corner, the scent constantly coating the air that you’d honestly forgotten a time it hadn’t.

You found yourself searching for things. Things you could mindlessly enjoy, to bring small happinesses into this dull life. You took note of the sky as you walked, sunsets.

You continued, closing your eyes momentarily as you walked, trying to immerse yourself in that warm light fully. Right now you were looking for a mirror of sorts, figuring one of the car windows would serve you best in your task. Spotting the rusted Jeep closest, you head towards it climbing onto the hood.

You had just finished showering and remembered how much you loved braiding your hair as a kid, finding the simple task so peaceful whether you knew it back then or not. You remembered how happy you’d be waking up the next morning, taking them out to let the soft waves cascade down your shoulders. Braids, you had noted.

Situating yourself, you take in your reflection in the windshield and begin parting your hair in two sections to make twin French braids. The dirt-covered window didn’t offer much but it was enough.

Humming quietly under your breath, you start the process, folding each strand over and under and over again, listening to the crickets as they began their nightly melodies. You’re so invested in your movements, that you almost miss the sounds of footsteps on gravel approaching you.

“What are ya doin’ on there,” Daryl grunts, confusion and slight annoyance mixed within his tone.

“My hair,” you answer curtly with a small smile, you thought it was quite obvious.

He eyed you momentarily, seemingly still lost as to why you could be seated on the beloved Jeep. “Fer what?”

You finally turn to him, your hands holding your spot in the braid to not lose it, “Because I wanted to, and they look real pretty in the morning when I take them out,” you answer, turning back to your reflection, finishing the first braid.

“Ain’t gotta doll yerself up for the walkers y’know, they’ll eat ya just fine,” he quips causing you to huff, now in your own annoyance.

“It’s not for anybody but me, Daryl. It makes me happy, which isn’t something you come across easily these days,” You sigh.

Silence falls between the both of you, the crickets becoming even louder. You feel the vehicle dip beneath you and quickly snap your head around. You watch as Daryl plops himself up on the hood behind you, arms crossed over his knees, staring at you intently.

“What are you doing?” you ask bewildered. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend time together, it was just that typically you were the one to initiate any of it, following him around like a lost puppy the majority of the time.

“Wanna watch ya,” He simply replies, motioning for you to continue.

The next day you had spent in the gardens, tending to the small amount of crop your group had managed to accumulate since you took the prison. The sun once again was ruthless in its heat, beating down like drums and causing your wavy hair to stick to your neck.

You stood up from the soft dirt, dusting off your legs when you felt a presence sauntering up beside you. Lifting your head your eyes meet the familiar blue ones you had been gazing into just last night.

“Hey, Daryl,” you smile, receiving a small nod in return. He seemed to be contemplating something, unsure where to look as he chewed on his bottom lip. “Something I can do for you?”

He quickly shakes his head, ears already pink in embarrassment, “Nah, I- uh… I jus-,” he fumbles, “Ya look nice is all.”

The grin that overtakes your features is unavoidable, your heart swelling at his sweet compliment. You of course felt disgusting, sweaty, and mud-drenched from working all day, but the happiness that washed over you was unmistakable.

“Ya think?” you giggle, referencing to your dirty skin, “Good enough for the walkers?”

It’s small, but you catch it — the shy smile he hides as he bows his head in affirmation, “Oh ya, gonna start callin' you walker bait now,” he teases back and you can’t help the fit of giggles you break out into.

You share a few other words before he heads off toward the watch towers for his afternoon shift. You stare at his leather wings as his figure retreats in the distance, a fuzzy glow filling your senses.

Daryl, you note.

[darylsdelts]

Hi😊 I was wondering if you could write the A - Z NSFW head canons for Daryl when you feel like it? I really love how you write him!

Tysm for this anon! This is fun!

Please keep in mind that sometimes I’m in the mood for subby Daryl and sometimes the opposite so my own opinions constantly change so, aside from this… yes Daryl is also daddy.

Aftercare - in the beginning, Daryl definitely doesn’t know what to do with himself after being intimate with you. The first few times, he pulls away after without saying anything and would either head out or just make some space between you. After he realises you actually want him there and understands what he should do then he definitely holds you close to his chest, a kiss on the top of your head, tells you he enjoyed it and he loves you.

Body - favourite body part… Daryl’s a boob man. He don’t give a shit, big or small but he loves em. (Norman is the biggest fucking boob man so so is Daryl, ok?) he also loves your eyes because he finds comfort in them, being able to hold eye contact is a big thing for Daryl. That being said, he basically get separation anxiety if he hasn’t been able to play with your pussy for a while😭 (not really but you’re his first time for everything so he just can’t get enough)

Cum - hear me out, Daryl used to get scared to cum. Like it took a while for him to get used to it. He’d enjoy show good it all felt but as soon as he would get too close he’d ask you to stop, he didn’t know why but he’d get all panicky. Until one day you very gently told him you were gonna make him cum and you guided him through it. It’s not like he hadn’t jerked off before, he didn’t even understand the anxiety himself. But the first time you did make him cum, there was quite a lot and he got real shy but he enjoyed it and since then he’s a fiend for when you just use your hand. He’s not really into cumming on your face but he likes the tummy. Even though he knows he can’t, sometimes he’ll still beg to cum inside you.

Dirty secret - he secretly likes the thought of you forcing him to watch yourself get off on your own fingers, tormenting him and not letting him touch you or himself. You’d have him practically rutting into thin air as he watched your fingers work hard, wishing it was his cock.

Experience - Daryl had no experience before you, he was a virgin. He didn’t outright say that but you caught on and you eventually asked him about it, which to your surprise he didn’t get defensive about, he was more ashamed than anything. But good Lord, he used his fingers liked he’d been in training his whole life, sure he was inexperienced but it didn’t show. The only telltale sign was his premature ejaculation the first time you two messed about and also how he humps his hips against the mattress when he eats you out.

Freaky - He’s not freaky lmfao. He’s pretty vanilla, with a submissive streak. The most dominant he gets is calling you a good girl and making you suck his fingers. Other than that he’s gentle and tends to slip into a sort of submissive role.

Goofy - Daryl’s too focused to be goofy. Nothing to laugh about if his girl ain’t cumming yet. But he’s not boring, obviously, just usually too caught up in pleasure. Unlessssss… you’re overstimulating him, something he loves, then he might get a little giggly accidentally but only because he doesn’t know what to do with himself when you’re attacking his sensitive head.

Hair - Daryl’s hair is sparse on his chest and torso but his happy trail gets a little darker, not black though, I would say probably a medium brown colour, let’s remember he’s a blonde baby at heart. He’s got a little bit of bush going on but he trims it now and then. As for you, he couldn’t care less, he’s still gonna eat his meal 😋! If you do get the chance to shave, he’d most likely be surprised. “What’s this? Ya been shavin’? Hope ya ain’t done it fer me”. He wouldn’t want you to think you have to shave for him to find you attractive, to be honest it kinda throws him off when you’re hairless.

Intimacy - he’s a needy fucker for a cuddle. He don’t look like it but he might as well be the damn cuddle monster when it comes to you. In private of course. In public he’d just squeeze your hand and maybe kiss your forehead if no one’s looking but PDA makes him uncomfortable. That’s why he’s so touchy and clingy at home.

Jerking off - not much time for Daryl to touch himself, also, he’s with you so he might aswell just ask you to do it. However, if for any reason you’re apart, he might get a little pent up, start daydreaming about things you say to him and how you say it “such a good boy, Daryl” he’d practically fuck his hand, being so desperate for release that he’d cum way too fast. He also likes to cup his balls when he cums.

kinks - secret mommy kink secret mommy kink secret mommy kink. He didn’t know he had one but he did know that he tends to gravitate to nurturing women who make him feel comforted but he’s never found any sexual desire there until he met you. So attentive and so nurturing, you always knew what he needed… it just slipped out one time, you were straddling him whilst he was still clothed. You’d teased him all day and he was a mess, rutting against your core through his jeans, begging to be touched. He couldn’t help it when he had an accidental orgasm in his pants and moaned out “m-mommyyyy”. And boy did you hold him to that.

Location - Home. Daryl don’t take no risks! Except for when he lets you tease him under the table at meetings.

Motivation (turn ons) - you, especially if you’ve been fighting, he loves watching his girl fight. Your kindness turns him on as-well, unless someone takes advantage of it, then he’s out to kill.

No (turn offs) - roughness, he’s not into being rough with you or you being tough with him. His life’s been rough enough.

Oral - he gets whimpery when you suck his dick, he bucks his hips and whines and he fucking loves it. Almost as much as he loves to eat you out. He’d lay on his stomach, eating you out whilst simultaneously rubbing his cock against the mattress, leaving a puddle of precum.

Pace - usually a slow to medium pace, he likes making love to you but if he’s stressed or had a rough day, he’s gonna go fast. That’s the only time he’ll be overly dominant. Basically just using your body.

Quickie - as much as he thinks about it, Daryl’s not pushing you up against a tree mid-hunt. It’s dangerous and not exactly comfortable for you. The closest thing he’s gotten to a quickie is one time you teased his cock through his jeans during a group dinner and he was so close to cumming he basically dragged you to the bathroom and had you suck him off.

Stamina - less than he had in the beginning 😭 he’s 55 now, he’s still got impeccable stamina and could go for round two but not as quickly as he could at 40.

Toys - one day, you came home from a scavenge with a vibe, he was a little annoyed, saying you could’ve got more important things but you assured him that this was all you found. He assumed it was for your use only but… you held it to his frenulum and suddenly he was glad it was all you could find. You told him that if you found a dildo you could use that on him too but he couldn’t tell if you were joking or not, maybe he’d let you use your fingers before any of that… maybe.

Unfair - after all of this submissive Daryl talk, he does like seeing you flustered, he likes to tease just as much as you do, he makes it like a little competition.

Volume - he’s quiet, small grunts and whimpers unless the vibe is involved then you gotta stuff your panties in his mouth.

Wild card (random hc) - likes when you worship his body, makes him less insecure (which he very much is but shouldn’t be)

X-ray - 7 inches and thick! Tip is a pinky red and he’s uncut. His balls are heavy asf but pretty tight. 4 inches when soft and when he’s hard it stands to attention with no curve.

Yearning - tried to play it cool… still tries to play it cool but is obsessed with you.

Zzz - as soon as you’re snuggled up, he’s gone. Fucking finally, he never slept well before you.

God this took fucking ages.

[mamabearneeds-her-dietcoke]

Pictures- Daryl Dixon

summary- Slowing taking down built walls

i didn't proofread this so excuse any spelling mistakes

---------------------------------------------

When Rick's group first arrived at Alexanderia you were delighted. You were do excited to meet new people, and of course keeping your distance but overall being nice and helping out.

After a couple months of them being there they finally started to warm up to everyone. You had made friends with Michonne and Rick, along with Carl. Sometimes You'd have them over for dinner or offer to watch Judith.

You did however, have your eyes on one special person. You worked in the infirmary here and there and when you did see him it was Carol forcing him to have someone treat his infected cuts. He never said anything to you, just glaring at Carol as she shoves him in the door. It startled you the first time, and when you turned around he stoof there looking at you before lifting his shirt and showing the injury.

nothing needed to be said, you just nodded your head and gestured to the bed as you grabbed supplies and cleaned him up. You mumbled a finished as you threw bloodied tissue and such away and he left.

Even though you worked a bit in the infirmary you also went out on runs quite often and had a good say in how things rolled. Whether the runs were longer or shorter, whenever you returned you always saw him near the gates. You wanted to believe he was making sure you were there but you were never sure.

One day, a couple months after Rick's group joined Alexandria, you opened your door to see daryl holding a small box. "Here. Collected these fer ya. ya don' gotta wear em'." He hands you the box and it's filled with jewelrys and small little knickknacks. "Thank you Daryl." You smile and whether or not he'd admit it, there was a small smirk on his face as he walked away.

You took the box to your dining room table and sorted through it. There were all kinds of necklaces and rings. You could tell they've been cleaned and fixed up. You put on some of the bracelets and necklaces, along with a couple of the rings. There's small little animal figurines, and you put those on your window sill above your sink.

Often times you'd find Daryl sitting on your porch, cleaning his crossbow or fiddling with whatever he managed to find on his runs. You'd bring him a glass of water or lemonade, sometimes a plate of whatever you were cooking. Sometimes You'd ask if he'd try a new recipe, other times the two of you would just sit there in comfortable silence.

It's around 6pm, You walk out to give Daryl his glass of lemonade and you start to walk to your chair on the porch when you feel him grab your hand stopping you. "Sit wit' me." Surprised but not upset you turn back and sit next to him. "Why are ya so nice to me?" He asks. "Why not?" You reply. "Others just look at me weird and keep their distance, You smile at me and invite me in. Whatsup with tha'?" He asks. "Because Daryl. People tend to judge all books by their covers. I like to read the book before I say anything. I know you won't hurt me or be a creep. I trust you." You smile softly at him again, and for a brief moment you could see a small part of his eyes soften.

"You trust me?" He asks, his voice a tone softer then usual. "With my life." Your smile stays unbroken and this was the moment you see him smile, fully smile. "Yer stupid." He chuckles softly and shakes his head looking out in front of him.

"Maybe. But it pays off in this case." You laugh and look to him, taking in all his features. "I'll be right back." You smile to yourself and run inside to grab the Instax camera you found on a run.

You rush back out and sit next to him, putting yourself as close as you can be. You wrap your arm aroun him and hd the camera up. "Smile!" You click the button and the flash goes. You move your arm and pull the picture out, waving it hoping it develops quicker.

"Look." You show him the picture, its you smiling at the camera and him smiling at you. "Ma turn." He takes the camera from you, doing the same as you, putting his arm around you and holding the camera up.

When the picture prints he grabs it and waves it. "Look at us." You smile. "Let me get on of you." You take the camera and point it at him. "Smilee." You say. "don' know how ta smile fer pictures." He says. "Imagine Glenn falling down the stairs." You suggest. He smiles, not at what you suggested, but at you trying to make him smile. You take a picture and grab it.

You smile at the picture you took of him, and you look to him still smiling as he calls your name. Theres a flash, followed by "Daryl!"

"What?" He says. "I could've looked bad and im that I wasn't ready!" You say. "Ya never look bad." He waves the picture in his hand. "You think?" You ask. "If anything I'm the one who looks bad." He looks at he picture in his hands. "See?" He hands you the picture. "Ok I guess its not that bad." You give it back. "Here I'll keep the one of you and the one you took, and you keep the one of me and the one i took." You hand him the other picture.

He puts them in a pocket of his vest. You look at him, his eyes eventually meeting yours, and you can't look away, you see him lean in, a look crossing his face asking for permission. You lean in further connecting your lips with his. "Mind if i spend the night?" He asks. "Not at all." You smile as he kisses you again, moving his arms around you, the same arms that'll be holding you as you drift off to sleep.

---------------------------------------------

yo what up guys🗣️🗣️

so I have an idea for an angsty pt2 if yall wanna see that, lmk.

don't be afraid to send in requests‼️‼️

peace out luvas see yall later🙌🙌

[darlingsfandom]

would you be able to do a cute aftercare Cillian or any other villain character? Up to you! thanks!! 😊

aftercare is always a must !

The room was hot and smelled of sex as you laid there panting. Your body felt like it was glued to the mattress from the layer of sweat coating your skin. Your heart was pounding in your ears, fingers trying to feel the sheets below you while you closed your eyes tightly trying to get your brain to focus on anything else.

“Darlin..” Cillians hands ran over your arms lightly trying to get you to come down from your high. It wasn’t unusual for you to get stuck in a heard space that was hard to describe but he knew what that looked like when things were too intense for you. “Yer okay, I’m here.” His lips pressed into your forehead before getting off the bed to go grab two wash clothes. One was cold so he could lay it on your forehead and the other one was warm to wipe between your legs and thighs. Once he had you cleaned up, he made sure the fan was blowing on you before leaving the bedroom to go to the kitchen.

Cillian came back to find you in the same position. He helped you sit up. His hand rested on your back as you lazily laid your head on his shoulder. “Ya did such a good job darlin!” Cillian kissed your temple before he lifted your head up a little bit to help you drink from the straw in your cup, the cold water felt good making you sigh when he pulled the cup back to set it down. “Good girl.” You sighed again before he laid your head back against the head board to help you sit up, once you were sat up he picked up the small bowl of mixed fruits to give you a strawberry. It was normal that he always gave you some sort of fruit after sex since he read an article about how it’s supposed to help you recover.

“My sweet girl.. how are ya feelin?” He spoke softly making you flutter your eyes open at him as you licked your lips.

“Better… going to be sore in the morning.” You giggled making him smile.

“Don’t ya worry , I got the medicine ready fer ya when ya want it.” He handed you a green grape and you ate it out of his hand. Cillian handed you the bowl before he repositioned the two of you so that your back was against his chest and wrapped his arms around your waist. You reached into the bowl and brought a grape to his lips to which he happily took it before kissing the top of your head. “Do ya need anything else darlin? Gotta make sure yer feeling okay.”

“I’m okay baby, promise.” Your voice was still weak but that was understandable since he did a number on you. Cillian always took care of you after sex because sometimes he did get carried away but it was normal for that to happen. He always put you first in after care. He made sure you never felt used or gross because you’re his girl and he loves you.

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 3 - honeymoon

graves x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 800 words, money and financial stuff, tradwife vibes, established relationship, dry humping, implied clothed sex, fingering.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

Your wedding had been a simple affair. A few family and friends on your side and some work colleagues from his had met at your shared house for a small do after your court house nuptials. Drinks (beer), a grilled dinner, and a bonfire that led long into the night. It was cheap and satisfied all involved. 

Not that Phil was tight with his money, anything but.

“Your money too now, baby,” he reminded you over the phone on one of his rare calls while on the job. You had been worrying about the cost of tickets, especially after all the money you’d already spent on luggage, swimsuits, and other clothes for the two of you. You didn’t even want to think about the hotel yet. “Set up that joint account for a reason. Pick us out something nice,” the connection crackled, threatening to break before fading back in. “-and your pretty ass in that bikini on the beach. Fuck-” You heard him tip the speaker away from his mouth to groan.

You bought the plane tickets while shoving down the feeling that everyone would see you as some sort of gold-digger. You could almost read the comments from your family on your future pictures. The ones that passive-aggressively cooed over how “nice” it must be to marry into money, to not have to work, to go on expensive vacations and sit in that big house alone all day.

You hated it. Hated that they would never know the truth. You didn’t even know what your now-husband did when you met. In fact, it took him a full month to get around to it. Even then, he was more concerned if the constant distance of his military life wouldn’t work for you. Nothing about the morality of it all, the violence, the fact he had a very real chance of dying while away and you would be the last to know. 

No, you had told him. You didn’t mind. You liked him.

So you waited, because you didn’t just like him. Not that you wanted him to think you were that serious this soon, but you were. You were falling hard and fast and he did nothing to stop you. Your little nights out quickly developed into nights in: the weekend at your place, staying at his for days at a time. How naturally you slotted into each other's lives. It just felt . . . right.

You shouldn’t have been as surprised as you were when he proposed. 

“I know it’s sudden,” he had said reading your shocked face. It was the middle of a long, lazy summer week. You had gone out to the shore to beat the heat, spending the afternoon walking the cool tide-line, watching the sandpipers and seagulls. It was peaceful. As you sat, wrapped in his arms in the soft grass, watching the sunset, that was when he’d asked you, “but I trust you. Love the shit outta you,” he added with a smirk pressed to your forehead. “Want to come home to you. Wake up next to you. Start a family. All that.”

Everything had led up to this moment, tumbling into your private cabana, both exhausted after a long international flight and an even longer taxi ride. Both you and Phil let your bags fall to the floor. You heard Phil kick off his shoes while you face-planted into the fluffy white duvet. Your husband groaned in relief, relaxing over top of you.

“-room fer you over-” you said, face smashed into the sheets, trying to get Phil to roll his tense, muscled body over onto any part of the vast, unoccupied space available. He was the one who had wanted the king suite. 

He shushed you, rolling his hips up against your ass. “Been waiting for this all day,” he sighed, breath ruffling your already messy hair. 

His hands pried apart your thighs, just enough to flip up your dress to press the stiff front of his shorts to your warmth. You whimpered as he groaned. You had both been on edge the whole trip and unable to comfort each other with anything more than the squeeze of a hand or a pat on the shoulder. You both needed this. Needed some release. 

Phil rolled you to the side, hungrily palming your breast with one hand. You followed him, pushing yourself up against his chest. You grabbed back for him, needing to feel his lips on yours, bucking your hips against him in the process. 

“Fuck baby,” he whispered, pulling you around to kiss down your face. “This how you want it? Want me to make you my wife like this? Fuck you for the first time like a fuckin’ animal against the bed? All our clothes still fuckin’ on?” he babbled, hand trailing off your breast, down your body, past your panties to play with your clit.

“Yeah . . . yeah,” you whined, turning your head to arch into the kiss you’ve been aching for. 

You heard his shorts drop to the floor and him press his cock to your pussy. “Tell me,” he huffed, rocking once against your tight slick before restarting, “tell your husband how you want him to fuck his wife.”

[indecisivekitty]

These Threads of Crimson

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader

wc: 1,552

genre: Soulmate AU/One-shot

warnings: maybe the slightest of angst if you squint??

“That red string you see wrapped around your ring finger leads you to your soulmate.”

That’s what you get told when you’re a kid.

Grownups were always constantly excited about telling you about how this soulmate-string thing worked and how they then went on to find theirs. Yet there were also lots of people who didn’t care about the concept of it and ignored it entirely, going on to be with whomever and live their lives however they please without knowing their soulmate at all. Though there were still many who enjoyed the idea of having a soulmate and went on to follow where their string led to the best of their abilities.

Additionally, the string was only visible to you and your soulmate and wasn’t tangible at all. Yet on occasion, there were instances where the string tugged at you—not as forceful as someone pulling you, but nonetheless, you could still feel something when it happened.

Growing up, you also learned that those momentary tugs happened when your soulmate was very distressed or perhaps burdened with a heavy weight. The worse the stressor, the stronger the pull of the string. People have come to say that the string tries to pull you to your soulmate when they feel this way so you can be there to comfort them—hence why it tugs at you during their worst moments.

Hearing that while getting older always made you frown. You felt lots of tugs when you were little—maybe 5 or 8? So you often wondered how old your soulmate was and hoped that he wasn’t that young to have had something tragic happen to him. Assuming it was a man.

You also constantly heard the discussions from kids your age about whether finding and being with your soulmate was worth it. There are many arguments for "It is worth it! It’s your soulmate!” Or, “Can’t I choose who I want to be with? Why do I have to follow some string?”

You quickly decided there was no wrong or right answer. The string only binds you to your soulmate but doesn’t force you to have any obligation or romantic feelings towards them. Soulmates don’t necessarily have to be romantic, right? But you guess that having a romantic soulmate would still be nice regardless. You sincerely hoped that was your case, having your soulmate be the person you end up with.

You looked at the sign of the pub you were outside of. Blowing out a breath, you prayed that whoever was inside felt the same way you do. That they don’t see soulmates as some sort of burden, and no matter what the outcome of this night was, they’d give you some sort of chance to be in their life.

You did come all this way to find them, after all.

Simon wasn’t sure of his opinion when it came to the string tied around his finger. He didn’t care to dwell on it much. Why would he, when he had other important things to place his attention on?

In a perfect world where he lived a perfect life, he would try to find his soulmate. That was something he was sure of, but in this lifetime? He assumed it was too dangerous if he had someone outside of work, plus he wasn’t exactly sure he deserved to have one.

That being said, he finds himself frowning at the string, wondering why it feels tighter all of a sudden. It didn’t feel like those occasional tugs that it would do; the string felt like it was shorter, even more so as the seconds went by. Simon narrowed his eyes at the string as he suddenly felt uncomfortable.

“Do you ever forget you’re wearing your balaclava while you go to drink?”

Simon looked from his finger to turn his attention to Gaz, raising his brow at the question (not that anyone could really tell anyway). “Once maybe.”

After replying to Gaz, Soap came up to the two men sitting at the bar to clap their shoulders, smiling ear to ear as he drunkenly spoke. “Oi, LT! ‘Member tha’ one time ye drove—got ye drivin’ lessons fer next week!"

Ignoring Gaz’s laughter, Ghost sighed. “And you really think I’d go to that?”

Soap shrugged. “Werk on yer drivin’ fer the future. Come in handy if ye ever have a bairn.”

Ghost shook his head as Gaz got up to put an arm around Soap’s shoulders. “You’re pissed out your mind, so let’s have you sit down, yeah?”

“Pssh… Nawt tha’ plastered,” Soap mumbled, stumbling seconds afterwards. “…Nevermin’.”

Watching the sergeants go, Simon turned his attention to surveying the pub. The string wrapped around his finger was starting to agitate him, his leg bouncing up and down as his eyes darted all over the room. He couldn’t figure out why.

But it quickly became clear as his gaze landed on your figure.

Narrowing his eyes, he figured he had to deal with this problem before it became something bigger—before it became anything at all. Finishing off his drink, he stood up and began his way towards you, trying his best to mind the people around him.

You blinked, a bit dazed, at the huge man heading in your direction. He’s your soulmate? When you walked into the pub, you let the string guide you in his direction and immediately knew who he was without looking at the string for confirmation.

The way he was approaching you felt like you were being stalked by a predator. He moved with ease despite the many people around, but you suppose it isn’t that hard when you’re as confident in your steps as him. It was odd to see your soulmate in person. You weren’t sure if he was what you expected. Then again, what did you expect?

Finally standing in front of you, the man wearing the balaclava tilted his head slightly at you.

Glancing anxiously to the ground and then back to him, you weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to say now. “Hi, I’m-“

“Follow me,” he said, cutting you off.

Confused, you opened your mouth to ask, “Sorry, what?”

“Follow me.” The man pocketed his hands in his jacket, glancing towards the entrance of the pub, and gave one last look at you before he headed towards the door and left.

Feeling lost, you looked at the rest of the pub before turning back to the exit where he went through. Sighing, you quickly started to follow his empty path. You figured you already made it this far to find him, right?

 

 

 

You find him not too far from the entrance, leaning against the brick wall of the building beside the pub. You watched as he eyed his surroundings, constantly scanning everyone and everything. Noticing you approaching, he stood up straight and took off his balaclava, shoving it in the pocket of his jacket.

He clenched his jaw while you took in his face. His features were rugged and angular; you thought he looked very masculine. He had the prettiest brown eyes and hair of the same color. You glossed over the scars adorning his face; you didn’t want to seem rude and stare at them (though you did find yourself feeling intrigued at the thought of studying them more closely).

You thought he was beautiful.

“Why are you here?” he asked gruffly.

You felt disbelief at his question, and you felt the tiniest bit of shame for trying so hard to find him. “Why am I here? No name, no introduction." He stared at you with crossed arms. You didn’t know why you were even trying to continue this conversation (or lack thereof) with him. “I’m… I followed the string because I wanted to find you.”

“And that was a mistake.”

You tensed, your gaze tightening. “A mistake?” You wrapped your arms around yourself to find some semblance of comfort, your hands clutching the material of your sweater. Exhaling rigidly, “We only just met, and it’s already a mistake?”

He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say next and what words he could say to ease the slight tension. His hands flexed absentmindedly; he wasn’t sure how to put into words his opinion of soulmates, and he didn’t feel confident enough in himself to bring up what happened when he was younger.

“I meant that with my work and how I’ve grown up, I’m not entirely certain it was worth it for you to find me,” he said finally. “So for your sake, maybe you should leave.”

“I’m not,” you sighed, cutting yourself off. “Look, I’m not asking for anything but to be in your life in whatever way. Acquaintances, friends, someone you only ever see at the pub—I’ve found you, and I’m not going to just leave.”

He observed your face, releasing a slight huff. “Stubborn.”

“So is this a yes to us being acquaintances?”

Eyeing the group of drunken people exiting the club, he gave a small nod. “S’pose.” He looked awkward, like he didn’t know how to proceed after you both reached some sort of agreement.

You were the littlest bit amused at seeing him look so out of place. "You never told me your name."

He looked back at you, feeling unexpectedly clumsy at this moment.

"Simon."

[theres-a-body-here]

Unprotected hand holding

Monty x Male!reader

Happens before the events of this fic

It was rare for anyone to last more than three days as Monty's assigned caretaker, yet here you were, approaching two whole months without complaint or hesitation.

As time passed by, Monty found himself growing increasingly curious about you. Sure, he may not show it or admit it, but deep down, he secretly likes how calm you were whenever he wrecked his things.

It also helped that your phone had a gator themed wallpaper which caught his eye during one of those late work sessions. From then onwards, Monty couldn't help but feel drawn towards you somehow, even if his stubborn nature prevented him from expressing it openly.

During one of those late night work sessions, you sat on the couch working on paperwork while Monty tuned his bass guitar nearby. Every now and then, he'd sneak a glance at you when he thought you weren't paying attention, unable to resist the urge to observe you silently.

Watching you immerse yourself completely in your work, Monty couldn't help but find himself observing your habits. From the way you chewed on your pen when lost in thought to tapping your foot nervously against the floor, everything about you seemed to draw him in further. In fact, his internal fans began whirring faster as he fought against the rising warmth building within him.

Monty never thought he'd feel jealous of a pen.

Feeling bold, Monty decided to take matters into his own hands and approached the couch where you were sitting, nervousness coursing through his wires.

With a soft thud, Monty sat down beside you, careful not to disturb your concentration on the papers strewn across your lap. For several moments, neither of you spoke, merely sharing space together in comfortable silence.

Hearing the gentle humming of Monty's fans, you paused midway through signing a document and turned to face him with concern. "Is everything alright, Monty?" You asked softly, genuine worry etched into your features.

In typical Monty fashion, he replied with a gruff, "Ain't nuthin' wrong wit' me!"

The moment the words left his metal mouth he winced at how brash he sounded. He looked at you expecting to see hurt on your face, but to his surprise, you seem unphased by his demeanor.

Smiling understandingly, you returned to your work, leaving Monty alone with his thoughts once more.

After some time, Monty gathered the courage to strike. Casually yet awkwardly wrapping an arm around you, he tried his best to appear nonchalant about the whole situation. His sheer size dwarfed your frame, making it impossible for you not to notice his sudden closeness.

Feeling the movement, you glanced up at him questioningly before turning back to your paperwork nonchalantly. Embarrassment flooded Monty's core as he realized he hadn't thought this plan through very well; however, unwilling to back down now, he stammered out weakly, "Jus', uh…yeah, thought ya might be cold...."

Silence followed Monty's lame excuse, making him believe that perhaps he had crossed some sort of boundary. Just as he was about to apologize and withdraw his arm, you surprised him by scooting closer, nestling yourself comfortably against his side.

At this unexpected display of affection, Monty swore he felt his systems glitch momentarily as sparks flew throughout his wiring.

Monty took in every sensation – your softness, your warmth, and even the stark contrast between your sizes. So much input was flowing into his software that he failed to realize you had ceased working altogether, choosing instead to lay your head gently upon his chest.

His internal fans were the loudest they've ever been.

Glancing down at your delicate fingers, Monty suddenly became hyperaware of just how massive his own claws appeared next to yours. With shaking limbs, he mustered up every last bit of courage remaining within him and timidly whispered, "Hey…uh…cher? Think we could maybe…hold hands fer a sec?"

At first, there was no response save for the sound of whiring fans and breathing echoing throughout the quiet room. Then, after what felt like an eternity, you responded softly, "Oh…well, sure. If you really want," extending your hand towards him as you watched patiently.

Monty reached out slowly. His claws closed carefully around your smaller hand, holding it softly as if you were made of glass.

At this tender gesture, you snuggled even deeper into Monty's embrace, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you relished in the closeness shared between the two of you.

Unable to resist any longer, Monty pulled you in closer still, lifting your legs so that you could rest comfortably on his lap. Wrapping your arms tightly around Monty's neck, you held on firmly as he encircled his own arms around your waist, effectively trapping you within his mechanical grasp.

As Monty's digits began tracing gentle patterns along your lower back, he leaned in close and whispered softly into your ear, "Cher…is dis alright wit'cha?"

He felt your nod, hiding your face in his neck. He held you tighter as his hands continued to grope your body.

As time passed with the two of you cuddling in the couch, Monty couldn't deny the truth any longer – he was beginning to fall for you, hard.

[sister-lucifer]

You Are Loved Here

Lucifer x Gender Neutral Reader

INSPIRED BY THESE HEADCANONS 

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Reader is sick, and Lucifer has gone full caretaker mode to help them get better.

Content/Warnings: Lucifer hand feeds you if that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, Reader takes some pills cuz sick, lots of praise and comfort from Luci, just tooth rotting fluff 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio! 

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

“My love? Are you awake?” Lucifer calls from the other side of the door, prompting you to open your heavy eyes. He waits a few moments before slowly creaking the door open, sighing with a smile when he sees you looking back at him. 

He shuts the door behind him as quietly as he can before making his way over to you. He’s holding a tray with a bowl of steaming soup, a glass of water, and a couple of pills. He sets it down on your nightstand before turning his attention to you. 

“Luci…fer…” You weakly call, throat scratchy and dry. 

“Shhhh,” Lucifer replies, pulling off a glove and holding the back of his hand to your forehead. You instinctively lean into his comforting touch. 

“Your fever seems to have gone down a bit,” he remarks, “That’s good. You need to keep resting, though.” 

You nod as he retracts his hand, slipping it back into his glove. You shudder beneath your heavy blankets, pulling them up to your face. 

“Now, now…I know you’re comfortable in that little cocoon of yours, but you have to sit up to eat.” Lucifer grabs an extra pillow off of a chair, encouraging you to sit up before placing it behind your back. 

“Comfortable?”

“Mhm…” 

“Good. Here.” 

He hands you the glass of water and pushes it to your lips. You take a few sips, and he seems satisfied at this. He’s been nagging you about staying hydrated, after all.

“And these too,” He says as he takes your free hand and drops the pills into your palm. You can’t help but grimace at the sight. They’re not very big or hard to swallow, but no one likes taking medicine. 

“I know, it’s not your favorite, but you need them.” 

He’s right. You hate to admit it, but he’s right. You really should take them. 

You heave a heavy sigh before taking a drink of water, holding it in your mouth before quickly pushing in one of the pills and swallowing hard. 

“There we go,” Lucifer praises softly, “Halfway there. Now you only have to do that one more time.” 

The kind words were unexpected, but certainly delightful to hear. It wasn’t often anyone got to hear him talk like that, especially you. It was enough to ease you in taking the last pill, which went down much smoother than the first. 

“There we go…It gets easier every time, I promise.”

A soft hand came down on your side, tenderly rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lightly laid your hand atop his and gave a small squeeze. 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well, my love…” Lucifer whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to your warm forehead. 

“ ‘s okay…” You replied, matching his quiet tone, “I feel a bit better today…” 

“That’s good. Some warm soup will help.” 

Lucifer takes the glass of water from

you and sets it down on the bedside table before placing the tray in your lap. You watch with tired eyes as he lifts the bowl, stirring the spoon around for a few moments before lifting it. He carefully blows on the spoonful of soup, and you can see the hot steam disperse quickly.

“Think you can keep this down?” 

You nod, reaching out to take the spoon and bowl from him but he pulls away. 

“Please, allow me.” 

You hesitate, but allow it. Your hands fall back down to a resting position and absentmindedly toy with the edge of your blanket. Lucifer brings the spoon to your lips, and you open your mouth just enough for it to slip past your teeth. 

You weren’t expecting it to taste as amazing as it did. Maybe you’ve just forgotten what good food tastes like—seeing as you haven’t had much of an appetite—so much so that your eyes widen a bit as you swallow. Lucifer chuckles under his breath. 

“Good, isn’t it? I can’t take all the credit, though. The recipe belongs to Barbatos, I just followed it.” 

“M..More, please…” 

Lucifer gladly obliges, insisting on blowing off the next spoonful before allowing you to have it. You’re a bit more eager this time, leaning forward to accept the offering. Lucifer can’t help but smile at this, his heart fluttering at the sight of your excitement, even it if it is rather mild over something as small as good soup. 

“I’m glad to see you like it. It’s the first real food you’ve had in a while.” 

He wasn’t wrong. The past couple of days you’ve been surviving on crackers and tap water. You couldn’t keep much else down. You didn’t realize until now how hungry you’d been. 

“More, please…” You ask again, but Lucifer is already bringing up the spoon once more. 

There’s part of you that wishes this moment could last forever. Maybe not the fever or the dull ache in your head or the scratch in the back of your throat, but this unusual closeness with Lucifer. He loves you, and he tells you so every chance he gets, but to experience that love is something else entirely. With each spoonful you feel a bit more full, a bit more content. There’s a soft warmth blooming in your stomach that’s sprouting tall vines that climb up your body, wrapping around your shivering limbs and calming your heartbeat. 

Warm, but not hot. Not sweaty or restrictive or heavy. Just warm. Comfortable. 

Loving. 

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and you’ve only made it halfway through your meal before your body begins to protest. The next time he brings the spoon to your mouth, you push it away and shake your head. Lucifer pauses, and for a moment you’re worried he may be disappointed. 

Of course, he’s not. 

“Is that all for now? Well, that’s quite alright. You ate more than I thought you could. Good job.” 

There’s no denying the way the praise makes your heart skip a beat. If it weren’t for the fever hiding it, your face would surely feel hot. 

Lucifer sets the tray back down on the bedside table as he stands, brushing himself off and cracking his back with a groan. 

“I’m going to keep this in the fridge for you in case you decide you want more, and I promise to keep Beelzebub away from it at all costs.” 

Your laugh quickly devolves into a weak cough, but you smile through it all the same. Lucifer gives you one last kiss on the cheek before departing, looking back one last time before closing the door. 

“Feel better soon, my dear, and please let me know if you need anything.” 

As the door gently clicks back into place and Lucifer’s footsteps fade away, there is one prevailing thought that grows in your mind. 

You can’t help but allow yourself to feel how overwhelmingly loved you are here. 

[silverzoomies]

Honeysuckle

peter Maximoff x reader smut

chapter 2: later gator

warnings: female reader (sorry), sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, overstimulation, shameless smut, rough sex, kissing, porn with (slight) plot, canon divergence

word count: 5142

a/n: to anyone who reads, thank you for enabling my deranged bullshit,, ilysm

some more notes regarding canon divergence: idfk where peter's house was originally supposed to be set (in dofp). but in this fic, pretend it's in westchester. got it? good. also, i love the concept of pietro being his birth name so much, i had to throw it in,,

chapter 1 here.

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You showed up to Peter’s (his mom’s) doorstep a little less than an hour later. 

Now, Peter personally thought you could’ve been a lot quicker about it (what if he was dying?? Like, yeah, he sort of was). Whether he thought this because of his natural impatience, or his rambunctious, horny brain; he couldn’t tell. But Peter knew he didn’t have any right to complain. Considering the-uh…circumstances. You were the one doing him a favor.

Even if you didn’t necessarily know about said favor yet.

Raising your fist to knock at the front door, your knuckles didn’t get a chance to make contact. In less than a nanosecond’s time, you found yourself behind an entirely different door. The door to the basement. Peter’s basement (well, technically, his mom’s. But let’s ignore the logistics, he thought).

The door slammed shut behind you with an abrupt rattle. Your back was pressed hard against an amalgamation of Star Wars posters covering it, as Peter kept you trapped before him. And you stood at the very top of the basement stairs. A large hand of his clasped over your mouth, just in case you felt the need to freak out. At least his mom wasn't home to overhear anything if you did. Thank the high powers for impromptu, grocery trips.

His toned, shirtless body idled a little too close to yours. Leaning into your personal space further than he normally would. Peter was perched one or two steps down from you, keeping his head tilted up. He blinked with a dark, half-lidded gaze. And he stared into your questioning eyes with a heavy intensity. You were caged in. With his other hand next to your face, pressed flat against the door.

Peter panted breathlessly. He was an exasperated mess of burning heat and steaming sweat. Sweat which reeked of a sickly sweet smell you didn’t recognize. And you assumed it to be…perfume? Or something? You really couldn’t guess. Whatever it was, it threw you for a loop. As the sweet scent met your nose, a pleasant chill surged along your spine. Peter was so intoxicating.

Peter’s cheeks burned the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen on him. And you noticed, in his eyes, Peter’s pupils appeared impossibly big. Both were a stunning, black abyss of carnal desire.

You didn’t seem to pick up on that desire, however.

“Hey.” Peter huffed with a casual, lazy smirk. Breathless when he spoke. As he pulled his hand from your mouth, a subtle, lingering sweetness clung to your lips. You furrowed your brows, giving him a confused look. “Uhm…hi?” You shook your head, smiling uneasily with a laugh, “Are you, like, okay, dude? You look like a mess! What was up with that text, by the way? Are you sick?”

Peter blinked in a hazy, sweltering daze. And he promptly shook his head. He impatiently drummed his speedy fingers with the hand pressed against the door.

“Huh? Nah, I’m-...I’m totally bitchin’, babe. Just-” A pause, and Peter’s bright blush spread to the tips of his ears, “Actually…if I can keep it real fer a sec? I’m-uh…I don’t really feel like myself right now.”

His statement made you even more concerned. He could tell in the way your expression shifted. Your brows pressed together further, and your worried smile fell into a small frown. The rational part of Peter’s brain ached with shame, his heart twisting at the sight. The last thing he wanted to do was worry you.

But the spicier portion of his brain found your innocence way more arousing than it should’ve been. Peter slapped himself internally. Chill out, dude. Don’t be gross.

“What do you mean? Not yourself? You seem fine to me. A little sweaty, and maybe a little tired. But otherwise…” You forced a lighthearted smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair, “Same ol’ Peter.”

Peter’s heart raced to roadrunner speed in his chest, pounding rapidly. God, you were too cute. With his bangs hanging messily in his face, he let his eyes roam across your features. So soft, and so nice. An echoing voice in the far, dark recesses of his rampantly horny mind screamed at him. Begging Peter to take you right then and there on the basement stairs.

But Peter was conscious enough, that he cringed at himself for even daring to consider such a warped thought. 

“It's nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout me, kay? Probably just comin’ down with somethin’.” He lied, feigning a chillaxed grin, “Like ya said, same ol’ Peter.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight from foot to foot. If the look on your face was anything to go by; Peter knew for sure, you could see right through his bullshit. Aside from the fact that you knew him well enough? At the moment, Peter was as transparent as the shattered glass he left on the floor of Hank’s lab. 

Peter guiltily dropped his gaze from your face, and to your belly. But as his eyes dragged slowly downward, he instantly regretted this action. Prior to this moment, Peter hadn’t noticed what you were wearing. He’d been in too quick a rush to drag you into the basement. 

A tight, crop top hugged your upper body, leaving your belly exposed. The mere sight of your bare skin almost made him bust a nut in his sweatpants. Peter swallowed hard, and that honeysuckle sweetness sank down his throat. He coughed, and drummed his fingers a little faster against the door.

“Uh huh? Are you sure?” You asked, reaching up to brush Peter’s bangs out of his eyes.

At that moment, a hot, sticky wave of sexually charged static shot through Peter’s veins. He dropped his head, the messy fluff of his hair meeting your tummy. With both hands now pressed to the door on either side of you, Peter’s fingernails dug into it. He huffed a desperate laugh, and shook his head.

“Toooootally aces, babe.”

You rolled your eyes with a playful, but concerned scoff.

“Hey, Peter, seriously. Talk to me, okay? What’s wrong?”

Your tone was as sweet as the sugary taste on Peter’s tongue. Enough to give him a toothache. And in a comforting gesture, totally innocent; you brought a gentle hand up to his shoulder. Your palm rested there without flinching, even despite the feel of his sweat under your skin.

“Jeez! Honey, you’re burnin’ up! Are you sure you’re not, like, really sick?” You pressed.

Peter felt the soft touch of your hand to the top of his head. Your fingers carded through his slightly damp hair. The tickling sensation of your fingertips sent tingles down his spine. And Peter’s body set itself ablaze. These were simple touches. Your fingers in his hair, your other hand lightly squeezing his muscles. Nothing too suggestive.

But his horny, addled mind reacted instantaneously. The very second Peter sensed your fingers were close, he sucked in a harsh, ragged breath. And as you made contact, he visibly shuddered. His fingernails dug themselves deeper into the door, leaving tears in the posters there (major apologies to Luke Skywalker and the gang). Peter raised his head from your belly.

And finally, he looked up into your eyes again. Or, at least, he tried to. Immediately upon seeing your pretty face, his gaze dropped straight to your lips.

“Shiiit…lovesick, maybe...” He tiredly blinked, huffing another breathless laugh, “Damn…yer really pretty, y’know that?” Peter’s teeth dug into his lip, as he subconsciously leaned an inch closer into your space. Your heart skipped several beats in your chest, and your eyes widened. The cutest blush flooded your soft cheeks as you gasped. And Peter’s dick twitched painfully beneath the fabric of his grey sweatpants.

“Dude…what??” You asked, barely audible. Scoffing in disbelief, you giggled, “Yeah, okay, somethin’s definitely wrong with you, man. Need me to call a doctor?” And you muttered under your breath, “ Or a mental ward, maybe? ”

Peter snickered in response, his smile spreading wide and showing teeth. The corners of his mouth pressed up into his dimples. And he shook his head, embarrassed beyond all human comprehension.

Another searing wave of horny torment swarmed Peter. And this one stung like hell. Peter’s cock throbbed with an ache he couldn’t ignore, even if he tried. He exhaled shaken breaths, reeking that thick, sweet scent. And without intending to, Peter rocked his hips forward. His bulge lightly brushed against your leg.

You squeaked with a gasp, tilting your head down. And realization seemed to dawn on you suddenly, as you noticed the shape of Peter’s hard dick in his sweatpants.

The softest, little “Oh… ” was all you could muster.

Peter bolted from the stairs before you could say anything else. He quickly paced in circles through the basement. Slow enough, this time around, that he didn’t appear as a blur. Just himself, in all his sweat-drenched, obvious boner glory. His cock bounced under his sweatpants as he moved. And you had to wrestle with god himself to resist staring at it. Maybe you understood the level of stress Peter was under. Because you saved him the humiliation, and failed to mention his situation aloud. “Y-uhm…You gonna be okay?” You asked, your voice somewhat hushed. “Me?? Hell if I know! Probably!” Peter threw his hands up as he rushed around, expelling his pent up energy, “Look, I’m, like, really sorry, babe. I shouldn’t’ve-...it’s just-...I’m goin’ through a majorly weird thing, and I need-” He stammered awkwardly over his words, stopping himself with a frustrated groan.

Stepping slowly down the stairs, you came to a halt as your tennis shoes reached the basement floor. You rubbed your arm for self-reassurance, shyly looking around with an intake of breath.

“You need what? Please don’t be afraid to talk to me, dude. I’m not gonna think less of you or anything.” You spoke with a tender insistence.

Only, your sweet words flew right over Peter’s head. Straight out the basement window. Later, gator.

Peter was too busy stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes giving you a not-so-subtle once over. And the image he took in, made it ultimately harder for Peter to resist his instinctive, lustful needs.

Standing in his (his mom’s) basement, looking so vulnerable, you avoided Peter’s gaze. The crop top you wore hugged your figure a little too tight. Showing off the swell of your tits, with a collar that hanged way too low to be modest. Long, thin sleeves covered your arms. Peter shamelessly let his eyes trail even lower. Past the soft, exposed skin of your belly. Skin he wanted to mark with his teeth and cum. And down to the short skirt - Peter had to do the mother of all double takes just then - hanging over your smooth thighs. And were those thigh-high socks covering your legs, or was he just hallucinating some sexy mirage? 

Your knees bumped together as you shifted your weight, your skirt fluttering with the movement.

Somebody call 9-1-fucking-1. Alert every doctor in the Westchester area. Because Peter might’ve actually gone straight into cardiac arrest. If he were to die right now? After seeing you, looking like that? Totally worth it. Amen.

“Peter? Did you hear me, honey? Is there-...I mean…is there anything I can do to help?”

Peter didn’t, for the life of him, expect you to say something like that.

Your eyes oozed innocence and genuine kindness. And Peter wanted to roll his eyes over it. You were so ridiculously nice in the face of an awkward situation. The apples of your cheeks burned hotter with every word you spoke. And though you may not have understood what Peter was going through, you offered your help anyway. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked. Subconsciously, you swiped your tongue across your lip to wet it. And again, your sock-clad knees knocked together with the adjustment of your shy posture.

Peter fought with all his mutant might to ignore another, painful influx of heat washing over his body. But ultimately, he failed. Miserably.

“F-Fuck-” He choked.

His dilated eyes flew open wide. A fwip, and Peter appeared in front of a nearby wall, hunched over next to a Ninja Turtles: Turtles in Time arcade machine. He kept his back towards you. And through the sheen of his sweat, you could see the way his muscles flexed. His body twitched, hips subtly bucking forward. Peter braced himself with a hand against the wall, groaning a series of soft noises into his other palm.

So,-uhmmm...maybehetotallyjustblewaloadinhispantsorwhatever. No biggie.

“Peter?? Holy shit-” you called.

Worried for his well being, you quickly raced towards him. And with a low grumble of a sound, Peter banged his head lightly against the wall. Mortified and supremely embarrassed, he slowly turned, pressing his back to the wall. You were much closer now. Close enough that Peter could reach out and pull you into his body if he wanted to. And he did want to. He wanted to so fucking bad. The very last remnants of his self control told him not to.

Time to bite the silver bullet, and face the music; so to speak.

Peter placed a trembling hand on your shoulder, the palm of it massive. And you jumped at the rough strength of his touch. Peter sighed, shaking his head. He avoided your gaze. And in his eyes, he carried with him a heavy, exhausted weight. The kind of tiredness you could see from a mile away. Peter knew he probably looked like a disgusting wreck. Not his most attractive, he had to admit.

Little did he know, you thought he looked drop dead gorgeous like this.

He hesitated before speaking, struggling to let the words slip off his sugary tongue. Once Peter finally opened his mouth, he rushed through his explanation in rapid succession. And the only reason you understood, was because you’d been around Peter for a long enough span of time. Luckily enough (or unluckily, depending), you’d become accustomed to his speedy, speech patterns.

“IIIIIIIIII fucked up real bad, babe. Like, really really bad. In Beastie’s lab. There were these nerdy, science chemicals, y’know? He’s always got stuff like that lyin’ around. Which, if you ask me? Is totally hazardous. Amiright? And I may have knocked some over. Because I was goin’ too fast and I wasn’t payin’ attention. Classic me, right? Pffbbt. So, anyway, I breathed in some, like, pink stuff. Kinda tastes like - you ever try honeysuckle as a kid? It tastes like that. It’s really sorta nostalgic. Reminds me of when I was- Uhm -sorry, I’m totally off track here. So-uh…ever since that happened? I’ve been stuck like this fer hours. And I’m not gonna lie to ya. It hurts. And it’s all hot ‘n stuff. Uh-”

You interrupted his nonsensical ramblings with a wave of your hand. As if suggesting you had a thought to add. Peter tried to ignore the way your blush spread down to your neck. And any thoughts he had about dragging his tongue sloppily across it, were shoved back down into frisky hell. Where they belonged.

“Uhm. S-...So, did you try-” You started. And Peter already knew ten thousand years ahead of time, what you were about to suggest.

“Beatin’ my meat? Yeah. Only a dozen times.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Peter let out a long, awkward sigh. The exhale of it wavered with the shuddering of his overheated body, “I think-...y’know, if I had to guess? Just throwin’ whatever thoughts out there. Darts on a board. Fwoo -” He made a throwing motion with his hand, “I think I just need to-uh…like…pfffbbt… bang ‘er whatever, y’know?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. ” Peter sighed once more, throwing his head back against the wall. Clearing his throat with an unrelaxed cough, he continued, “Soooooo …ya think we could…I dunno…I don’t wanna…fuck up things between us more than I already ha-”

Peter was fast.

But even whilst carrying the oh, so sacred speedster gene, he didn't see you coming. Lost in a heated, sex-crazed haze of confusion and hesitation; Peter was completely caught by surprise when you interrupted his words with a bruising kiss. For a fraction of a second, his rational mind ran through a million questions at lightspeed. Why the heck would you kiss him? Did you have feelings for him? Were you only trying to be nice? What did this even mean to you? Did it mean anything? But before he could register a single one, his carnal instincts took over.

With the inhumanly fast beating of his heart, came fuzzy, blistering, hot desire. Peter’s cock swelled his pants, the veins intertwined through it pulsating with every beat. He growled into your mouth, kissing you in a filthy, sloppy blend of teeth and tongues. You drank down the sweet, honeysuckle taste on his lips. Thirsty for it, as if swiping your tongue across them would bring you infinite serenity.

A beat passed.

Peter had you in his bed in an instant. The ultra-fast movement shook you to your core, leaving you a little dizzy. There wasn’t a single moment to catch up, before Peter’s lips enveloped yours all over again. He kissed you with wet, deep desperation. Moaning hot puffs of air through every, abrupt pause between kisses. Your fingers rushed to graze across the skin of his chest, over his toned torso. Peter allowed you only a meager moment to feel the bump of his abs under your fingertips, before he suddenly moved.

Rolling you around swiftly amongst the sheets, Peter frantically searched for more physical contact. Desperate to be as close to your body as he could. The heat coursing through his veins heightened to a scorching blaze with your every touch. Your hands in his hair. Your lips and tongue against his. Peter let his own, trembling hands roam all over and down your body. A body he’d admired in secret for far too long a time, he now realized.

But now? You were here. In his bed. Melting into a hot, submissive puddle underneath him. And Peter, in an impatient, concupiscent state of mind…found he just couldn’t fucking hold back anymore.

“I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, I gotta have you. I gotta feel your pussy around me, babe. Please-” Peter whispered hotly into your lips, moaning with swirls of his tongue.

"P-Peter ~" You mewled his name, and he fell even weaker into your kiss.

He pulled away for a beat, his lips coated in sticky, sweet saliva. Peter jerked the collar of your crop top down, along with anything underneath. One of your tits popped out with a bounce, the nipple hardening upon exposure to the air. He palmed at your breast, leaning down to harshly sink his teeth into your neck. Peter's tongue traveled up to your ear, where he whispered with a whine.

“Look at this hot fuckin’ body. You been hidin’ all this from me? This whole time?” His thumb flicked your nipple, vibrating with a soft, superspeed buzz, "You got some bomb as hell titties, baby."

Those mild vibrations against your tit pulled quiet moans out of you. And you giggled at Peter's comment, bashfully shaking your head as you pulled him up for another kiss.

"No shit, they've been there the whole time, dumbass. All you had to do was ask." You breathed into his lips. And Peter huffed a hot laugh, lightly nipping your lip.

"Woulda asked sooner, had I known." He breathed, humming a low moan, " Sooooooo much sooner."

None of your clothes were pulled from your body. Peter was in too much of a rush to get his dick inside you. His speedy-fast brain sent itself straight into auto-pilot. There was no controlling his actions from this point onwards. Bye bye, rational thought. And using all the strength he had, Peter forced your legs apart. He threw both of your shoe-clad feet over his sweaty shoulders.

Peter’s hot fingers darted down to push your panties aside. And the instant his eyes gazed upon your righteous, angelic pussy; he choked out a whine of relief. Something instinctive. A sound he didn’t even mean to make. 

Shoving the front of his sweatpants down, Peter hastily grabbed his enlarged, aching cock. You glanced down curiously, just to have a sneaky peek at your best friend’s dick. And at the sight of it, you audibly gasped. Your cunt immediately reacted, weeping an onslaught of slick heat just for him. You also, just so happen to notice the thick, sticky cum coating his length. Which meant, Peter had quite literally creamed his pants sometime in the last five minutes or so. Your entire face lit like a match, colored strawberry red at this realization. And you couldn’t help but wonder what must have triggered such a strong reaction in him. That pink stuff Hank’s cookin’ up in his lab must be out of this world.Not a single word of warning was given, as Peter shoved his swollen, needy cock as deep into your pussy as it could go. Using his cum as lubricant, he forced his way quickly through your tight walls. Hitting your cervix in an instant. Hot, breathy moans smelling so sweet, rang out from above you. As Peter began relentlessly pounding you into oblivion. 

Your pussy was the holiest of holy sanctuaries. Fucking outrageous.  

“Fuck! Fuck, that’s it! God, baby, yer so tight. So fuckin’ wet-” Peter spilled every word, with no filter.

"P-Peter~! Ah! You feel so good, Peter~" You moaned. While plunging his cock into your dripping cunt, Peter dropped his head. Silver hairs pointed out in every direction, his bangs covering his eyes. And he posed a timid thought aloud.

"Pietro." His humid breath tickled your ear, "P-Please. "

If you could blush any further, you would have. Pleasant, tickling goosebumps erupted across your skin. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded. Your hands traveled to his hair, where you gently grabbed the sides of Peter's head to pull him up. You met his eyes with an adoring grin.

"Fuck me, Pietro. Please, fuck me fast. As fast as you wanna go, baby. I'm all yours." 

Peter nearly came, and you felt the veins of his cock vibrate against your walls as he fucked you. You threw your head back, whining with a coquettish squeak. 

Fucking you missionary wasn’t enough.

Peter hit all those spots inside you that made you squirm needily underneath him. But he wanted - no - needed to be even closer. He so badly wanted to hold you against him, while he made mindless, risky, speedy love to your perfect, little pussy. His thoughts were all the more amorous, as he felt the way your plushy walls squeezed around his cock. Choking out a groan, Peter took to pulling you with him. As he rolled around in a flash, adjusting positions.

“Gimme just a sec, princess.” He breathed.

Finally, at long last, he found something perfect. And so fucking close. Peter spooned you on the bed, wrapping his muscular arms tightly around your body. His muscles strained under his burning skin as he held you in a firm grip. And with his chest pressed to your back, he kept fucking you. Peter’s pulsating cock stretched you open so wide, pumping into your cunt at a faster pace.

Like, super speed fast. Fast enough to be so overwhelming, you couldn’t think straight (you were brainless on his dick at this point, honestly). But not so quick that he’d hurt you.

One of his big hands traveled down to your skirt, which he lifted up over your ass. Peter pressed himself even closer. Letting his pelvis meet the soft, bounce of your ass cheeks as he fucked you fast and hard. Only because you asked so nicely, and not at all because you had him completely pussy whipped. Burying his face in your neck, he inhaled your scent. And Peter peppered your skin in wet kisses.

He was close to his peak. Peter could feel it. These last, several, miserable hours had all been building up to this very moment. Dozens of nut-busting sessions later. This was definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, exactly what Peter needed. And for you to be the one to give it to him? Talk about a major fucking score.

Peter’s moans became even more desperate, more akin to pathetic cries the closer he got to release. His body flared up in a steaming heat, bracing itself for oncoming ecstasy. And Peter thrust his cock into you faster.

Faster. Faster. Faster. So much fucking faster.

“T-Too fast! Too fast, Pietr-I can’t! Please-” You suddenly cried, your cunt clamping down on Peter’s cock even tighter. If he didn’t slow down, you were surely going to squirt around his dick. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t stop, babygirl. J-Just gimme- fuck, why are you so fuckin’ tight?? Fuck -just gimme one more second, please- ”

Your pussy fluttered, pulling his cock in deep. And Peter found it then. The cusp of his agonizing, excruciating journey through rampant, horny torment. A number of things helped guide him over. Your cute, broken squeals of pleasure were the first. Peter never would have guessed that anything could make you moan like that. But, fuck, he wanted to lock the sound of your cries deep into his core memory, for the rest of his days.

“Keep going, Pietro~! You’re- ahh -so fast, you’re gonna make me cum, baby!” 

Your movements further spurred him on. Peter was completely thrown, as you met each of his thrusts with the rocking of your hips. Your ass jiggling with every bounce against his pelvis. So soft. Even despite the overwhelming speed of Peter’s thrusts, you kept going for his sake. As though you couldn’t get enough of his cock. And Peter swore to himself, he would worship the ground you walked on once this was all over.

“I-I’m cumming Pietro! Cumming just for you! FUCK!!” You cried as your eyes rolled back. Your body erupting into a brainless, blissful, quivering mess of orgasmic euphoria.

Okay. Yeah. Peter was totally gonna make you his religion after this. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum fer me, babygirl? Please cum fer me. Please -” He moaned.

Peter felt the gummy walls of your cunt squeeze him in a vice grip. And he shut his eyes tightly, emitting an obscene, filthy moan. A hot gush of your slick sprayed from your pussy with each thrust of Peter’s cock. Staining his bedsheets and coating his thighs. 

The final nail in the coffin was the moment you turned your head just so. In your own, overstimulated, post-orgasmic daze. You pressed your cheek to Peter’s in a gesture of reassurance. A silent indication that you weren’t suffering too much as he fucked you at mach speed. Peter felt his heart flutter, much like a hummingbird, at the closeness. 

Maybe he really was in love with you. Maybe he wasn’t as influenced by boner plague as he thought.

A metaphorical coil tightened deep in Peter’s gut. Pleasurable, buzzing tingles bolted through every one of his nerves. Finally, the coil snapped. Something like a volcanic eruption of blistering, syrupy ecstasy freed him. Releasing Peter from the shackles of hard cock disease. One, last plunge of his thick cock in your cunt, and Peter lost it.

He spilled his sweet, sweltering cum so deep in your pussy; you could’ve sworn you felt the heat pooling in your belly. Peter filled you up with everything he had, until there was nothing left to give.

The wavering burns that once infected Peter’s body, finally began to subside. At long last.

Peter was left with a massive headache, and painfully sore muscles. And because he was so incredibly exhausted; he didn’t pull himself away from you. Nor did he pull out. For whatever reason, he couldn’t. Peter wanted to stay there. Buried deep. Pressed against your back. Forever, if you let him.

A blissful wave of sleepiness hit Peter like a truck. And a dopey grin spread across his face. Showing off those dimples again. Peter’s dark eyes fell half-lidded, the smokey rings around them so much more evident. He dropped his head to the pillows, his hair fluffy and tousled across the fabric of them. In his sleepy, mellow haze; Peter let out the dorkiest of giggles.

“Wow…wow- fuck…I can’t believe you actually let me do that, babe…holy shit…” He laughed in breathless disbelief, "You're a goddess."

As if priding himself on what he’d done to you, Peter thrust his hips upward. Just one more time for good measure. His softening dick remained buried between your slick walls. And his face scrunched up at the overstimulation of this movement alone. Peter eventually stopped altogether, instead choosing to nuzzle his nose into your back. Breathing in your scent.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He tiredly confessed.

Through your own exasperated pants of air, you scoffed. Laughing breathlessly at Peter’s unprompted statement.

“Please. Be serious, dude.” You huffed playfully, “You’re not in love with me. You were just really fuckin’ horny, Pietr-...Peter.”

You felt him shake his head, before he buried his nose further into your back. And he hummed in content.

“Mmmmm. No, like, I’m bein’ deadly serious, baby. Totally legit. We shoulda done this wayyyy sooner. Yer really hot ‘n stuff. And yer so cool. And so nice to me all the time…” Peter pulled you tighter against him, “ Call me Pietro again. I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

A pink hue - pink like the lab substance that started this entire, degenerative ordeal - flooded your cheeks. You brought a shaky hand to Peter’s hair, letting your fingers lightly massage his scalp.

“Pietro.~” You teased in a sultry, sing-song voice, “Y’know Hank’s gonna rip you a new one the next time he sees you, right?” The only response you got, were Peter’s soft snores. An echo of the first nap he’d taken since he was a small, troublesome child. Annoyed in the most affectionate of ways, you dropped your head to the pillows. And as carefully as you could, you pulled yourself from Peter’s cuddly grasp. His soft cock withdrew itself from your pussy with your movement. You shuddered, feeling a tingle that raced all the way down to your toes. 

Before tip-toeing to the basement bathroom for a shower, you took one last glance at Peter. Your best friend in the entirety of the expansive cosmos...who also just gave you the best dicking of your life. Lying there peacefully, quietly snoring. Looking a handsome goddamn mess. In his sleep, you noticed his fingers twitch. Another way for his body to expel pent up energy, you guessed.

Leaning over the bed, you placed a feather-light kiss to his forehead.

“Watch where you’re goin’ next time, dipshit.” You whispered with a soft smile.

[lunajay33]

New World🍂Part.13

Summary: You grew up in a crappy town with one friend who kept you going, everything started to fall into place, that’s until the world ended and the dead ruled the world, now you and your best friend Daryl Dixon had to stay alive but will you finally confess?

Part.12

•Masterlist•

I was around 5 months pregnant now and everything has been going good, great actually, Daryl became even more protective and I didn’t hate it I loved when he dotted on me, what can I say I adore him and I’m gonna adore this baby just as much

“Everything feeling normal since our last check up?” Hershel asked as I laid on the bed for him to check on things, Daryl at my side

“Yeah, they’ve been kicking a bit more and I have to pee a lot more” I said making Hershel let out a little laugh

“Sounds like you’re on track, now I’ll just check the heart beat” he took his stethoscope and placed it around my belly as the room fell silent

“Well everything seems to be normal, but I should warn you, some people around the prison have caught a cough, you should steer clear just incase, you can’t afford to get sick while you’re pregnant” he said as he gave me my prenatal vitamins

“I’ll take care of her” Daryl said helping me off the bed and leading me out of his little office as another person was about to enter, we walked past and noticed them coughing up blood

“I think I’m gonna set ya up in a watch tower just in case” he said rubbing my back reassuringly

“Yeah I think it’s better to be cautious”

He pulled two of our mattresses from our block to the watchtower as I gathered some of my things, blankets, to go bag, food and water, after we worked on it the rest of the evening it looked pretty cute……well as nice as we could get it

We laid in bed, his arms wrapped around me as I laid my head on his shoulder, my hand protectively placed on my bump

“Do you want a girl or boy?” I asked tired

“Don’t matter, as long as they’re like ya” he said dragging his fingers back and forth through my hair, I still can’t believe we got to this point from being best friends to me pinning over him and now I’m pregnant

“Well if it’s a girl…….can we name her Juniper?” I kept remembering the dream I had and I feel like it was a sign of some sort

“ of course sunshine”

Hershel was right, it’s only been a week and people were dropping like flies left and right, getting more and more sick, coughing up blood, it coming out of their eyes and everything, there was an incident where a cell block had walkers from those who died at night, that’s what Daryl told me he refused to let me leave the watchtower but now that I’m pregnant I didn’t really want to now anyways, as I was looking out over the field I heard Daryl come out

“Hey sunshine how ya feeling?” He asked rubbing my back

“I’m good but I’m really craving some things I can’t even have anymore” as I said that groaning he laughed as he stood behind me and held my bump

“What’s this lil baby craving?” He asked as we both looked down to where he was caressing my belly

“I really want soft serve ice cream, spaghetti, I really crave any kind of chocolate bar OH! and a orange soda”

“Is that all?” He let out a breathy laugh as it blew a bit of my hair tickling my face

“Daryyyylll, it’s not my fault the baby wants what it wants” I whined

“Well I know it ain’t chocolate of ice cream but I brought ya some spaghetti’os and some peaches I found out on a run, wanted to keep em just for ya”

“Awe thanks D, remember that time when you came over for a whole weekend when we were like 13 and all we ate was spaghetti’os and grilled cheese” I asked remembering the good times we had together

“Ya, think of it everytime I see a can, ya know I appreciate ya fer that stuff ya use to do fer me?” I turned in his arms brushing his hair back

“What do you mean?”

“When my old man would neglect me or beat on me ya were always there fer me, yer gonna be a great mother” he said placing kisses all over my face

“Oh Daryl, I’m always gonna be here for you, you’ve made it easy, you’re the sweetest most generous man I’ve ever met, and because of that you’re going to be the best dad in this whole messed up world, I love you D, always have and always will”

“I love ya too peach, forever”

I woke up seeing Daryl had already left, judging by the sun it was probably around 12 pm, since getting pregnant I’ve needed to sleep more, always tired was a normal side effect Hershel had told me, I got up putting my hair into a ponytail, pulling in some black yoga pants and one of Daryl’s plaids that still had the sleeves on, just as I was about to drink some water an explosion happened to the watchtower across the court yard, completely destroyed and in flames, looking to where it came from and my heart dropped, the governor and a group of people, I knew this was gonna go terribly, the governor wasn’t the forgiving type

I gathered up all my food and water and threw it in my back pack that had spare clothes and baby clothes Daryl had found for me, put my holster belt around my hips carrying my gun and knife, I slung my bag over my back and ran down the stairs, some of the group were huddled around the fence watching to see if Rick could settle this

“Sunshine ya gotta get outta here” Daryl said as he squeezed my arm

“No I can’t go without you”

“Ya gotta fer the baby, if things go bad and we get separated I’ll find ya, I promise” he said giving me a hard passionate kiss signalling for me to go

“I love you Daryl Dixon” and with that I ran off into the prison informing everyone to get ready, I was about to leave when I saw her, little Judith unaware of the dangers around her, I found her baby carrier, diapers, food and clothes and put it in my back as well then strapping her in the carrier on my chest and ran when a part of the prison exploded, I ran out the back opening in the prison, going until my legs couldn’t anymore, I could here the gunshots in the distance stop, I wanted to go back but I know I can’t, I kept walking hoping to find someone from my family

It’s been a few days now, I’ve just been walking and walking and walking, everything was the same everyday, wake up from some shitty shelter I could find, feed Judith and myself with the little rations I had left, and wander hoping someone would show up……..anyone, I couldn’t do this alone, pregnant and caring for a little girl there was only so much I could do and only so long I’d be able to do it without becoming exhausted

It felt like I’d never see Daryl again, I’d think of him all day especially when the wind would pick up and blow the scent of fallen leaves across my face, I’d picture his scruff and the feeling of it against my neck and shoulder where he’d be cuddled against me in the morning, and the way he’d glance at me with those blue eyes it made my world brighter, or how excited we were for this baby but now we may never be a family

As I was walking, reminiscing my lost love I came across a graveyard feeling fit with how empty and broken inside I felt, there was a house in the distance and decided to stay there for the night if it was all clear, I swept the house thankful for no walkers, Judith was getting fussy so I checked the cabinets and they were completely filled, I took a jar of jam and crackers and sat feeding Judith them myself until all the crackers were gone, it felt so good to have a full ish stomach, I hadn’t been starving on the road but it wasn’t enough, after we settled and the sun was setting I decided to sit on the porch steps to rock Judith to sleep hoping the fresh air would help, I leaned my head against the banister looking out over the graveyard, it was silent from walker groans only the sound of wind rustling through the leaves and crickets, it felt like old times when Daryl and I would stay out late and just watch the sky

All of a sudden there were a figure in the distance running closer to the house, I stood up securing Judith and taking out my gun but the closer they got the clearer they became

DARYL

I dropped my gun as I walked down the porch, he finally noticed me and Daryl ran even faster, I could feel the knot in my throat and the tears cascading down my face, I tried to speak but all that came out we gasps, he was here, he found me like he said, he finally reached me throwing his arms around me and holding my head to his chest as I cried harder then ever before

“I found ya, are ya alright?” He asked pulling and looking over my body

“I’m……..I’m okay now” he held my face looking deep in my eyes and that scent of musky woods crossed my senses and I breathed in deeply

“You found us” he finally looked down noticing a completely knocked out Judith

“Ya got her, got lil asskicker……..and how’s the baby?” He asked rubbing my belly

“I think they’re fine, I need more food though but I got that covered now” I took his hand and led him inside showing him the gift that was the kitchen cabinets

We lit some candles and chowed down for the rest of the night until we went upstairs settling in the bed after Daryl had secured all the points of entry

We found some clothes and changed into the fresh ones and slid into bed, his chest secure to my back as he held me close, arms and legs entangled, lil asskicker in my arms

“I thought I’d never see you again………I was so scared” I felt his arms tighten around me

“I ain’t leavin now, I thought of ya everyday”

“I can’t do this anymore Daryl” I whimpered as my bottom lip quivered, I needed a home that was secure and safe and peaceful I couldn’t have a baby where it was at risk every second

“I know baby, I’ll find it fer us, all of us”

“Did you see anyone get out?”

“Nah, too much was happening but…..Hershel’s dead”

“The governor?” My heart ached for Hershel he was the sweetest giving man

I just felt him nod as he started rubbing my belly, knowing how much it calmed him down

“I love you more than life Daryl” I said turning my head so I could kiss him gently

“Love ya too, I wish I could give ya everything we coulda had, it may not be everything but I’ll try”

Lmk your thoughts on this chapters, if you’d like to be added to the taglist comment!!:)

Taglist: @deansapplepie @ghostboneswrites2 @willowshadenox @thebadbatch2022 @writer-ann-artist @i-wear-wet-socks313 @thestonedwriter

[leilani-lily]

~Oh Deer~ (Chapter 9)

A thousand apologies my dearest does and bucks ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

This took much longer than anticipated; I hit a bit of a wall, and time escaped from me. But we're here! We trekkin' on! The story continues \( ᐖ)/

.... And we're actually splitting this into 3 rather than 2 because over 6k later and we're still not done yet so ahaha! Whoopsies~ (´∀｀);

｡°⚠︎°｡ Final note. This is a WARNING that this chapter includes mention of VIOLENCE, GORE, and SEXUAL ASSAULT so please read with caution if this is a trigger for you!! ｡°⚠︎°｡

Thank you all for your love and support, honestly ꨄ I've been feeling down lately and re-reading comments has really helped to boost my spirits and push me to keep going! I love y'all dearly ( •̯́ v •̯̀)♡

OK! Without further ado~ SYNOPSIS: AroAce! Alastor x Chef!Singer! Reader. You venture off on your own to grab Alastor's gift, unaware of the dangers to follow... Word Count: 6.2k Chapter under the cut! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Your feet pounded on the pavement below you and you jogged towards the coffee stall. Your eyes were sharp and alert and your grip on Alastor’s microphone tight. You knew you had to be quick and extra careful now being on your own. But surprisingly enough, you weren’t afraid. Your blood was pumping with adrenaline, and with Alastor’s staff, you felt more powerful than you ever had in your entire life. It was exhilarating, to say the least.

Dodging in between sinners and recognizing landmarks, you were able to find the vendor in question without any problems. You breathed a sigh of relief, coming to a stop in front of the display table and taking a moment to catch your breath. A large, older imp with a white goatee raised an eyebrow at you questioningly from behind the counter. Finally, you stand up straight and give him a quick smile before your eyes flickered over everything he had to offer. 

As much as you enjoyed some of the quirky mugs on display, you knew in your heart what you really wanted. The problem is, you only knew the bare basics about coffee; you had no idea what made a good machine or not. You glanced around at all of the modern tech and felt your shoulders sag. Alastor would hate all of these; you needed something from his time; something more classical. 

“Somethin’ ya looking fer in pa’ticular dollface?”

You lifted your head to the imp across from you. He was leaning against the table with his other hand on his hip, his eyes tired and dull. You gave him a sheepish grin, clearing your throat quickly. 

“Ah, yes please…” you start, “This might sound weird. I’m looking for something from the 30’s that helps to brew coffee.” a thought crossed your mind, and you could feel yourself beginning to sweat, “I… uh. Actually. I don’t even know what they used back then… A kettle? Or some sort of special press…?” Your eyes drifted down awkwardly. Satan’s Ass, you have no idea what the Hell you’re looking for. This guy’s gonna think you’re an idiot. 

To your relief the imp said nothing, but you could tell he was judging you hard. He looked you up and down before simply shrugging off the table and turning on the spot. He began to shuffle through the shelving unit behind him, tea kettles and mugs clattering as he searched. The imp spoke to you over his shoulder.

“Ehhh, I don’ know girlie. I know I had somethin’ a while ago, but might’ve been snatched already.” he shuffled some more, “Antiques like dat are hard ta find, n’ when ya do, dey sell pretty quickly. Humans n’ nostalgia n’ all ‘at.” 

You could feel your fingers fidgeting nervously; you really hoped you didn’t just risk your safety for nothing. The excitement from earlier was beginning to fizzle out with the thought of not being successful. Maybe you could get him a nice mug instead? Or maybe one of those cute, little stirring spoons…

“Well I’ll be blessed th’n damned again…”

You looked up to the seller to see him turn around, a crooked smile on his face as he held what looked like two glass pots connected like an hour-glass. Your eyes widened in amazement at the strange looking contraption. 

“Called a ‘Silex Vacuum Siphon’. D’know what year it’s from, but ya ain't gonna find something more vintage den dis, I can guarantee.”

You tucked Alastor’s mike under your arm as you carefully took the glass contraption in your hands. It was definitely used, and could use a good cleaning. But there were no cracks or chips to be seen, no major damage that could affect its ability to brew. Given it was nearly a century old, it was in fairly good condition.

“It’s perfect.” you breathed, thumb grazing over the glass tenderly as your heart pittered excitedly. Alastor would absolutely love this, you just knew it. You had to get it for him, it was like it was destiny. Your head whipped up to the seller.

“How much?”

Said imp looked you up and down for a moment before his eyes landed near your arm. A sly smile crept up his mouth as his pupils flicked back up to your face.

“How ‘bout that fancy lookin’ cane o’ yours?”

Immediately you placed the siphon back down and clutched the microphone close to your chest, shooting daggers at the creature in front of you. “Absolutely not.”

To your relief, the imp just smiled and shrugged his shoulders, “Eh. Was woith a shot.” he chuckled, helping your tense shoulders to slowly relax. His eyes darted between you and the siphon, clearly deep in thought before crossing his arms.

“400”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. For fuck sakes, you figured it would be expensive, but this was highway robbery. And you knew very well that he knew that too; he was totally upping the price knowing how desperate you are. And as much as you needed it, you didn’t have enough on you. A thought crossed your mind, something you had observed when you explored the market. With as much confidence as you could muster, you laid your hands flat on the table and leaned in, giving him a very serious look.

“200”

The imp’s smile creaked up to his ears. “375”

You had to stop yourself from smiling and breaking the facade. It was working. Thank God, he seemed like the type who enjoyed a little haggling. If you could just get him down a little more, maybe you could actually pull this off.

“250”

“350”

“300” You finally declare, before quickly adding, “And! you wrap it up nicely for me.” you stare him down, leaning back up and crossing your arms in front of you. “That’s my final offer.”

The background noise of the market droned on as you both glared at each other across the booth. Eventually, the imp’s lips curled up devilishly before giving a sigh and shaking his head.

“Ya drive a hard bargain toots. Deal.” He cocked an eyebrow and reached a clawed hand out. You shook his hand coolly, but it was so hard to contain the excitement bouncing around in your chest. There was something exhilarating about negotiating prices; you could see why some demons got such a high off of coming to markets like these. Of course, this purchase was still going to drain you of all your cash, but it was well worth it. 

While he got to work bubble wrapping the siphon, you basically dumped your purse out and gave him every cent you had. He made sure to cushion the glass carefully and even found an empty box to place it in for double security. You honestly didn’t know how this interaction would've gone; you were initially worried he would’ve robbed you blind or threatened you. But as he handed you the bag with the goods and gave a final nod, you were beyond relieved to find that he actually seemed to be a decent guy. Maybe this market wasn’t completely full of thieves and swindlers like you had thought. 

You were practically skipping down the alley, one hand tight around Alastor’s microphone and the other holding your precious gift (but careful not to swing it around too much). You couldn’t wait to give this to him. You could feel your whole body tingling with anticipation. You really hoped that it did make a good cup of coffee; it would be a shame if it didn’t. Even so, it was such a funky looking thing, at the very least it could make for a cool decoration and hopefully bring back fond memories… You wondered how much of a difference there was between drinking coffee from a coffee machine or a siphon. You’d have to brew a pot with him tomorrow morning and-!

Your daydreaming was instantly snatched away as you were quickly dragged into the darkness of the ally beside you.

You went to scream but a large paw had clamped around your mouth before you could utter a sound. The bag slipped from your grasp and fell to the ground with a clatter, but thankfully you kept your grip on the staff tight. You immediately went to swing your arms, but both your wrists were grabbed, looking like mere toothpicks in the claws of the Hell Hounds that pulled you in. You kicked your feet up in protest as your yells were muffled, but you were no match for the sheer strength these creatures had as they dragged you further into the darkness and away from the crowds. They hauled you backwards until you felt your heels no longer dragged, indicating you had stopped, but you were barely aware of your surroundings. You continue to thrash your shoulders around and kick your feet up, desperately trying to escape like a caged wild animal. 

“Now now, there’s no reason to cause such a ruckus.”

Your eyes flash open and whip to the deep voice ahead of you. Your eyes fall onto a large silhouette leaning against the wall to your right, the brightness of the market ahead of you shading your captor’s full appearance. But as he pushed off and stepped closer, your eyes adjusted and were finally able to take in the finer details. Dripped in a rugged leather jacket and ripped jeans, the wolf looking Hell Hound sauntered towards you. His grin was fierce, and neon-yellow eyes practically glowed in the darkness. You could feel your mouth go dry and your legs turn to jelly. 

Your initial frenzied shock subsiding, you took a moment to look up at your two captors holding you back, One seemed to be a tall, muscular Mastiff with a slobbery snarl, his paws holding your right wrist and shoulder. The other was a Doberman type with cropped ears and sharp eyes, gripping tightly to your mouth and other wrist. You mumble out a pathetic plea and shimmy your shoulders again, trying to get their attention and hope that they take pity, but they pay you no mind, focusing instead on their alpha. 

“Don’t even bother chickie,” the silver dog snarked, making you turn your attention back to him, “We Hounds are very loyal to our pack; they’ll only listen to me.” Your eyes narrowed into angry slits, shooting daggers at the alpha. He merely snickered in reply. 

“You’re probably wondering who we are,” he mused, putting his hands behind his back and calmly pacing in front of you.  “Wondering what we want, why you’re here, ‘yadda yadda ya…” the dog babbled, making a yapping motion with his claws. He turned to you and gave you a cocky grin. “You should know that we don’t usually do this kind of thing… we’re actually nice guys once you get to know us!”

The two dogs behind you chuckle darkly, not at all making you feel reassured. 

“We’re nothing but humble thieves,” the wolf continued, sauntering back over to you, “Steal enough to make a humble living. Only take what we need. Provide for the pack. Today was supposed to be like any other…” 

The alpha’s yellow eyes suddenly grew dull, his smug smile slowly falling to a sneer as he stopped in front of you. The look on his face made a nervous shudder crawl down your spine. 

“... Until that ugly ass, bob-cut bastard stepped in.”

Bob-cut…? What in the Hell is he-

“Tyrion was so sneaky about it too, I was sure the wallet was as good as ours.” the wolf continued, his voice a mix of sorrow and venom. “But then that red-clad fucker saw him and…” you noticed his paws clench into tight fists, his eyes narrowing angrily. 

Red-clad… Oh god… could he mean?

“I saw it with my own eyes. That mad-man butchered him like a pig. Didn’t even give him a chance to apologize or make amends.” His nose was scrunched up in rage before it softened, his eyes holding the tiniest bit of horror, “But I think what was the most haunting was the way that creep smiled the entire time. Almost as if he was enjoying it.”

… God fucking damnit Alastor. 

“You seemed like such an easy target too.” the alpha’s neon eyes flicked up to you. “We didn’t realize what kind of monster you had on a leash.”

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as you recalled that wild look in Alastor's eyes earlier, the way his smile seemed sharper... Damnit, you felt so stupid now. How did you not notice? Dear God, how many others had died today by Alastor’s hands? It was clear that this ‘Tyrian’ was trying to steal from you, but did that really warrant death? You felt a twinge of guilt settling in your stomach. 

“So when my boy’s noticed you gallivanting on your own, I couldn’t believe our luck.” the wolf chuckled, leaning in closer until you were face to face, “You seriously made our job so much easier.”

Your cast-down gaze immediately scrunched into one of distrust, feeling your body become on-edge as you focused back on your captor. The wolf smirked at your helplessness, eyeing you up and down before his gaze fell to your left hand. His eyebrows shot up in interest.

“And look at this!” He taunted, leaning back up and reaching for Alastor’s staff, “You even brought us an apology gift! What a nice little girl~”

Your eyes widened in horror, trying to jerk your hand away from the wolf’s grasp. But the Doberman held your wrist tight, making it near impossible for you to do anything as the alpha grabbed hold of the microphone and ripped it from your grasp. You let out a whimper of despair as it left your hand, to which the silver dog’s ears perked, and turned to give you a hungry look.

“Hmmm, what a pretty sound. Almost makes me want to hear it again~”

You could feel your blood boiling at his words, and in a fit of rage, you kick your feet up aggressively. To your dismay, the leader jumped out of the way in time, a joyous laugh escaping his muzzle as he hopped to the side. The two dogs holding you immediately tightened their grip on you, pulling you back and holding you more securely. You huffed through your nose like an angry bull, shooting the wolf a venomous glare as he howled and dusted off his jacket. 

“Wooh! And feisty too. Gotta admit, that just turns me on more~” he grinned, showcasing his sharp fangs and blackened gums. His pupils flicked between his friends, “Do me a favor boys, secure those legs of hers so she doesn’t do that again.” 

Almost immediately, the two henchmen each step on your feet with their large paws, pinning your feet underneath theirs. You try to lift your legs up and away to test your mobility, but sure enough, your feet were locked in place. Panic started to settle now realizing just how much trouble you were in, and instinctively, you jut your shoulders out aggressively to try and once again escape. The wolf snickered at your struggles, slowly moving closer to you. 

“Now originally, we were just going to kill you and leave it at that.��� the alpha hummed, eyes slowly grazing your body, “But hey, why stop there? Why waste a perfectly good meal without getting the chance to have a bite~”

Faster than lightning, his free paw came up and slashed at your chest, making you cry out in pure agony underneath the Doberman's paw. White specs blotted your sight as your mind froze in shock. You didn’t have to look to know; you could feel what he had done. Your body felt both cold and hot, from where your dress was torn and your body exposed to the air, and from where you could feel your blood begin to soak into what remained of your dress. You tried so hard to not make too many noises after the wolf's disgusting words, but the way your skin was burning, it was hard not to. Your eyes were beginning to water as you focused your attention back on the leader. Guilt be damned, you didn’t feel a thing for these bastards anymore. You wanted to make them hurt the way they hurt you. 

Outrage helped you find the strength to thrash around again, desperately trying to free your limbs so you could land a punch, a kick, anything. The Hell Hound took a step back to avoid your violent thrashing, chuckling at your display and licking his lips.

“Calm down now Sheila, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. It will be over before you know it…” He began his advance again, and you could feel your skin begin to prickle with panic. You continue your thrashing, lifting your legs and pulling at your arms, hoping that something would give way before it was too late.

And by the grace of God above, you felt your left shoe loosen under the paw of the Doberman.

An opportunity.

You spring into action, giving your left knee one final thrust upwards, making your foot pop out of your shoe and free from its confinement. Without even thinking, you slam it down hard into the Doberman’s bottom foot, making sure to dig your heel in deep. The skinny dog howled in agony, his grip on your arm and mouth loosened, giving you the chance you needed to act. As he bends over to grab at his tender paw, you bring your left arm across your chest and swiftly ram your elbow right into his muzzle. The force, along with his now injured foot, is enough to send him toppling over and slamming onto the ground, clutching his now bloodied nose.

Not wasting a precious second, you take the momentum from your left elbow and swing it over to your right, turning your body and socking the Mastif right in the face. He too yelps in pain, letting go of your right arm and freeing your other foot. As he steps back, distracted by the punch you landed, you grab him by the shoulders and lunge your left knee square into his groin. The Hell Hound let out a pathetic squeak as he immediately crumpled to the ground, curling into fetal position as he cradled his tenders.

Two down. One to go.

“Oh you BITCH!”

Right as you turn to face the wolf, his arm was already raised and ready to strike, swiftly bringing it down and backhanding your cheek. You cry out in pain, the sheer strength knocking you off your feet and making you fall harshly on your backside, cracking your head on the pavement. Your bun had come undone, your hair curtaining your glassy gaze as you watched the alpha throw the microphone to the side and stomp towards you. Too dazed by the blow, you felt him come down on you and straddle your hips, bringing his paws down over your throat.

“You think you’re tough shit girlie?” he snarled, his grip on your neck tightening, “Let’s see how tough you are once you beg for mercy.” 

You gasped for air desperately, your hands clawing at his paws and legs kicking out behind him. Your heart was racing anxiously, eyes darting all around you to see if there was anything around that could help you. A shimmer of light catches your eye, and you're just able to turn your head ever so slightly to your right. Your silver hair pin glistened in the light beside you, like a gift from God himself. 

You turn your attention back to the wolf, not wanting to reveal your plan to him. You could feel your vision begin to spot from lack of oxygen, but you stretch out your right arm, desperately trying to reach the pin without making it obvious. You felt the cool metal suddenly come in contact with your fingertips, rolling it closer to you into it finally was tight in your fist. With as much strength as you could muster, you swing your arm up and over, stabbing your assaulter right where his shoulders met his neck.

The wolf immediately howled in pain, rolling to his side and off you to grasp at the makeshift weapon lodged in his neck. You gasped for breath, feeling your blurry vision slowly speckle back as you choked in air. Exhaustion was taking over at this point; your head felt heavy from all the blows, and you could feel your body becoming numb from the blood-loss. Your eyes lazily scanned the area until they locked on Alastor’s mike, and you knew this would be your last chance if you wanted to survive this. 

You force your weak body to move, crawling on the ground as quick as you could towards the staff, scratching your arms and stomach as you went. You whimpered in agony, wishing to just give up and let sleep take over. But Alastor was waiting for you. Your friends back at the hotel were waiting. You couldn’t give up, not after coming this far.

Finally, you manage to stretch out and grab the mike, pulling it close to your mouth and taking a big breath.

“ALAS-!”

A fuzzy hand gripped your ankle and yanked you whole body away, making you cry out in fear as your plea was cut off. Your body scrapped painfully on the ground, dirt and tiny rocks grating against your open wounds. You whip your body around, cane still tight in hand and flinging it over to strike your opponent. But the wolf caught it skillfully in his paw, his pupils constricted and baring his fangs, the fur on his neck now sticky and tainted red. 

“Enough of this shit.”

The hound threw the staff out of your grasp and to the side, straddling you once again, but this time pinning both your arms over your head with one arm and leaning over you dangerously. You sobbed out in agony, your mind desperately telling your body to fight, but too exhausted to react. The alpha sneered down at you, panting and eyes wild with fury.

“Believe me when I say I find no pleasure in killing.” he growled, his hot breath hitting your face and making you whine out in dread. “But now…” The dog began to raise his free arm high in the air, his claws extracting with a sharp sound. 

“I’m gonna enjoy watching you bleed out.” 

A sob escaped your throat, tears streaming down your face in thick streams. This was it. This was going to be how you died. You had never actually died in Hell yet, and a part of you was scared. How long until you came back to life? Would you remember any of this… Fuck, would you remember anything at all? You couldn’t imagine a life outside of the hotel, not now. Not without the friends you've made. Certainly not without Alastor. The thought was unbearable. 

His arm came down swiftly, and you cried out in terror, shutting your eyes tight and turning your head, trying to block out the nightmare in front of you. You heard a slash of skin being torn and felt your whole body tense at the sound. You waited for the searing pain, for the blood to gush out from you until you became numb. 

But oddly enough, you didn’t feel anything.

You dared to peek up at the wolf on top of you, a peculiar look on his face as he was frozen in mid swing. His eyelid twitched, mouth partially open before his top half suddenly began to … slide?

“Funny you should say that, I was thinking ₮ⱧɆ ɆӾ₳₵₮ ₴₳₥Ɇ ₮Ⱨł₦₲.” 

Before you could comprehend where the voice came from, the wolf's upper body slid clean off his waist, toppling to the side and beside you on the ground. You slowly sat up, unable to speak as blood began to pool around you, both from his severed chest and his hips and legs. A large black tentacle came up from behind you and grabbed onto one of the wolf's ankles, picking up the severed lower section and flinging it off of your body. You blink in recognition, feeling your  initial shock subside and your chest tighten with hope. You turned around towards your saviour, but had to hold in your gasp at the creature behind you.

Microphone once again tight in his grasp, this demon was as tall as the buildings surrounding you; body barely able to fit between the narrow alleyway as he bent over you. Horns tripled in size and much more resembled deer antlers, black tentacles splayed from his back and writhing around, huge hands and talons sharp, eyes black as night and scarlet pupils in the shape of  dials, and a red ‘x’ on his forehead burning brightly. 

You had never seen Alastor in this state; in his true demonic form. You almost didn’t believe it was him. But his characteristic smile was ever present, your skin feeling that familiar buzz of electricity from his sound waves. You knew just how powerful he was, but to witness him at his full potential, it truly was a sight to behold. 

The giant form was watching you this whole time, dials flickering over your tiny body below him. From your face, to your torn chest and dress, to your bloodied legs, and back up to you. You felt a chill crawl down your spine as you locked eyes, your breath catching in your throat. Any other person would have been terrified looking up at such a creature, but oddly enough, you felt the safest you had ever been. Though you could feel the outrage that was emanating from his very body, you could sense the recognition in his eyes, the kindness deep within those haunting eyes.

The clatter of a loose can snapped you both out of your gaze, Alastor whipping his giant head up and forward, once again sharp and on alert. You heard a whimper of fright and manage to notice the Mastiff tumble out from the shadows and begin to run, yelling like a child and scrambling to get as far away as possible. There was a sudden buzz in the air, the Radio Demon’s smile curling up on his face and drooling blood. A chilling laugh escaped his throat, his jaw practically unhinging like a snake. 

“Well that was not a wise decision on your part…” Alastor growled, his voice deeper and booming as the sound practically shook the ground beneath you. His large body began to move forward, crawling like an animal and the screeching of static ringing out in the air.

“Don’t you know a hunter ⱤɆⱠł₴ⱧɆ₴ ł₦ ₳ ₲ØØĐ ₵Ⱨ₳₴Ɇ??”

The Overlord pounds forward, surprisingly fast for his size as the Hell Hound screeches in horror, sprinting further into the darkness of the alleyway ahead. You sat in the pool of the alpha’s blood, still stunned at the events of this afternoon and unable to do anything other than sit and stare. You numbly look over to the severed wolf beside you, his eyes already glossy and deprived of any life.

One.

You look back up to the large lanky demon stomping forward, laughing maniacally as whimpered screams of the Mastiff could be heard bouncing off the brick walls.

Two.

You blinked for a moment, your brain slow to process, but eventually catching up to the current events and what seemed wrong about this picture.

Fuck. 

Where was the Doberman. 

You heard some shuffling from behind a dumpster and whip your head over, your previous question instantly being answered. The skinny dog limped forward, eyes locked on Alastor and unaware of you watching him. He limped forward, his right paw still sore from you stomping on it. But his arm was tucked into his jacket suspiciously, and you felt your eyes narrow dubiously. A soft click snapped from inside the cloth, and the Doberman pulled out what appeared to be a gun, pointing it right at Alastor’s back. 

But there was something about this weapon that made you feel uneasy. The silver finishes that swirled around it, the way it practically radiated light in the darkness. There was something about this weapon that felt unnatural; like it didn’t belong in this world.

It seemed almost… Holy… 

You felt your blood run cold. 

It was all a blur. Rage and fear had taken full control of your body. Whatever exhaustion you had felt earlier was forgotten, whatever aches and pains slowing you down were no longer a hindrance. Completely fuelled with adrenaline and desperation, you scramble forward, bending over and grabbing your hair pin splayed on the ground. You sprint at a speed in which you never had before, screeching out Alastor’s name in warning before leaping onto the hound from behind.

The Doberman shouted in protest, raising his arms in defense and misfiring. The sound ricocheted off the walls, causing the Radio Demon to whip his head around, mouth half full of the Mastiff to a sight truly unbeheld. 

Your legs tight around the Dobermans waist, your one hand gripped at his head while the other continuously stabbed him in the neck. The dog clawed away at your arms desperately, howling out in pain as blood began to gush from his throat. But his screams were nothing compared to yours. Like a wild animal, you shrieked in fury, holding him tight and eyes feral as you punctured his neck again and again. The Doberman’s eyes eventually rolled to the back of his head, falling to his knees and landing face first on the ground. But as you went down with him, you continued your assault, kneeling over him with both arms overhead and slamming the hair pin into his back again and again and again.

Alastor watched from afar, jaw hanging open and the Mastiff’s carcass falling out from between his razor teeth. Never had he imagined he would see a spectacle such as this, certainly not from the likes of you. Not the girl who sang jazz in the kitchen, laughed at his horrendous puns, and slept so peacefully in his presence. He was convinced you were an angel in disguise, too pure for this damned world. 

And yet.

Here you were, stabbing and slashing and drenched in another's blood.

And he got to witness it.

Your furious screams started sputtering into sobs, and Alastor immediately snapped out of his thoughts. He immediately shifted into the shadows, slithering to you at lightning speed and emerging beside you, back to his regular appearance and hesitating a moment before gently placing both his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n,” he spoke tenderly, “Y/n, darling. It’s ok. He’s gone. You’re safe.”

The sound of his voice made you whip your head up to him, snapping you out of your daze. Your eyes were wide with horror making Alastor flinch, unsure how you were going to react. Immediately, you turn your upper body to him, grabbing onto his cheeks with bloodied hands and inspecting his face all over.

“Are you ok??” you sob, eyes panicked and looking all over his body, “you didn’t get hit, did you?? God please tell me you’re ok!”

Alastor blinked back his confusion, his eyebrows furrowing at your words. “Of course I’m alright my dear, whatever do you-!”

A glimmer of light caught his eye, and his gaze was momentarily pulled away from your frantic face. Upon laying eyes over the peculiar weapon, he felt his eyes widen in recognition. There was no mistaking the silver swirls decorating the gun. He had heard rumours of such weapons, not yet having the pleasure of seeing anything of the like in real life. 

He had heard the gunshot earlier, and was worried you were on the other end of the rifle which had triggered him to turn. But he hadn’t considered that the bullet was intended for him. Of course, a regular bullet wound was of no concern to him, he had survived much worse. 

But a bullet from an angelic weapon? 

As he formed the picture in his head, you calling out his name desperately and your sudden panic for his well being, it didn’t take him long to put the pieces together. 

You didn’t kill out of self defense.

You had killed to protect him.

You had killed for him. 

His mind was tumbling with this new wave of information and emotions, something that he didn’t often struggle with. But he felt your hands slip away from his face, causing him to focus back on you. Your head was bent down, hair draping over and covering your face, and soon your shoulders began to tremble. The distinct sound of you crying caused a jolt to shoot up Alastor’s spine, and immediately he lowered a hand under your chin to tilt your head up towards him. Sure enough, big salty tears were streaming down your face. But what caught him the most off guard was the weepy smile spread across your face. 

“Thank God.” you wept, your voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it, “I-I was so worried… I couldn’t live with myself if…” your lip trembled as you burst into tears. Whether they were tears of relief or fear, he wasn’t sure, but one thing was for certain.

Alastor had never seen someone so shaken at the thought of him dying.

And that made him feel… something. 

But he didn’t have time to delve into that. Not right now. He had to address this situation before he could dissect his thoughts. He knelt beside you, truly taking in your state of dress and being. Your dress was torn to shreds and blood-soaked, your chest bearing deep claw marks, the side of your head had dried blood spilling from your hairline, cheek swollen, scrapped stomach and legs, and bruises scattered all over your body. 

Rage swelled up in his body. Furious at the hounds who did this to you. Bitter at you for thinking that going off on your own was a good idea. And most of all, outraged at himself for allowing this to have happened in the first place. And when that last thought trickled into his brain, he felt something else slither in his mind to replace that anger. An ancient feeling he hadn’t felt in a very long time; ever since he was alive. 

Guilt.

What a terrible emotion. He hated it with every fiber of his being. He never felt regret or sorrow for the actions he took since descending to Hell. Why would he when dealing with demons and creatures alike that he saw as mere obstacles in his way? But as he looked down at your crumpled form, his usual sunny sparrow clipped of her wings and trembling before him. Knowing that he had broken his promise of protecting you… 

His eyebrows furrowed, ears falling flat on his head as his jaw clenched tightly. 

Of course, you weren’t at all aware of the torment currently happening in Alastor’s mind. You were just so damn relieved he was ok, and that you were alive to tell the tale. Your choked sobs were slowly lessening, trying to focus on your breathing and just so freaking grateful to still have oxygen in your lungs. As you took deep breaths to calm your racing heart, you could feel your eyes growing tired, body slowly relaxing finally knowing the horror was over. The aches and pains were coming back to life, your chest especially burning painfully and your dress sticky with blood. Whatever adrenaline that was pumping through your veins was fastly subsiding, blood loss making your head heavy and limbs numb. 

You didn’t even realize you were falling over until you felt long arms catch you, holding you up so you didn’t hit the ground. You could hear the familiar buzz of Alastor’s radio-like voice speaking to you, but your head was swimming, and your ears weren’t able to pick up what he was saying. You tried to look up at him, but your vision was so blurred, he was just a red fuzz in your eyes. You were so tired; you just wanted to sleep. And Alastor’s body was so warm and familiar, it was like a comforting blanket. You leaned in closer to his body, desperate for that feeling after such a harrowing event.  

You could feel yourself fading fast, and a single thought emerged that made you panic a moment. The bag. The present. You can’t leave that damned thing behind. You reached out a hand and lazily padded at Alastor’s chest, mumbling out a string of words that you prayed made sense. The red blob tilted to the side, and you knew he was confused, but you couldn’t fully explain yourself. He was smart, you knew he would figure it out. And you knew he would take care of you; you were in safe hands now. 

You could finally allow yourself to sleep. 

Your vision was quickly dimming, darkness beginning to surround you until eventually your eyelids fell shut and you blacked out completely.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

FIRST PREVIOUS NEXT

My beautiful does and bucks: @saccharine-nectarine @doowopshewop @mysterypotatoink @wendds @crispybelieverworld @raicomme ((WE GOT MORE BEAUTIFUL SINNERS YAY ꨄ ))

[maltmealo]

Chapter 19: Three-to-three ratio

"Ha... look at that, he's actually alive."

"Thats kinda the point of... all of this."

"Don't be rude, they're exhausted and probably in shock."

A laugh woke you up from your dreamless state. Children’s giggles bouncing around in your head and making it hard to fall back into the thick embrace of sleep. Blueberries and raspberries filled your mouth, the fruity taste coupled by a citrusy scent that was so similar to someone.

“Who are you?” The childish voice makes you snap awake, a dusty red and dark purple swirling together in your vision until the colors slowly morphed into child-like shapes standing above you. You slowly push yourself off the bed and the light children give you space, stepping away from your awakening form.

“(Y/N),” you respond, getting to your feet only to realize you were standing on a pile of blankets. you carefully step out of the blankets, stepping onto the hard metal floor below. The children again follow, giggling and muttering to each other. They were barely above your waist, almost looking like a toddler with the proportion of an adult.

“How’d ya get here?” the red one asks, stepping forward to face you, well, sort of face you, they had no face, only a blank red slate where their voice was coming from. “This place is fer us, not you.”

“Well… I apologize for invading your privacy,” you answer, glancing around the room lightly before finding that too invasive and instead looking down at the child again. “I don’t know how I got here, I was with my friend a little bit ago.”

“Friend, huh? Well I'm going to put my friend up your-” The angry red light-child is cut off by the purple one, they whisper something into the red one’s ear. The red one pauses, their shoulders dropping and visibly relaxing.

“Sorry ‘bout him, he’s just protective,” the purple one says, stepping forward and grabbing your wrist. The red one takes a place on the other side of you, taking your other wrist and tugging you out of the room.

“I’m Rumble and he’s Frenzy,” The purple one proclaims happily, jerking a thumb in the direction of the red one. They slow down once they pull you out of the room, weaving through countless bright white lights that wander around you.

“Don’t worry, we know who you're looking fer,” Frenzy laughs, pushing past one of the lights and it makes a noise similar to a low grumble, “Come on!”

Frenzy pushes open a door and a loud roaring slams into your ears as soon as he pulls you in, Rumble follows quickly, taking the lead and pulling you towards the railing. The bright light fills your vision, temporarily blinding you.

When your eyes adjusted, you could see what the cheering was for, an arena. A whole ass gladiator arena, with two people fighting in it. The seats were crowded with bright lights of all different colors, some mixing and some fading in and out. The cheering was boisterous and heavy, all but forcing your head down to watch the fight in the middle.

Before you could even squint to try and see who the two fighting were, Frenzy jumped onto the railing, almost hanging over the unsteady protective metal as he shouted at the top of his lungs.

“GET HIS AFT!” He screamed just as you grabbed his arm to prevent him from falling. He instead dragged you and Rumble closer, his shouting becoming incomprehensible shouting.

“There!” Rumble shouted as well, pointing to the fighter that had a purple haze around him.

You squint your eyes to see, and it was none other than Doctor Sowa, no longer in a lab coat but instead in black and purple clothes. He was fighting a dark cloud, tendrils of shadows whipping out from the cloud as it fought against your dear doctor.

You gasp as one of the cloud’s attacks landed, sending him flying back into the arena wall. You lean on the rails with Frenzy, now in worry for your friend's life.

“We need to stop this, he's going to die!” You shout, trying to pull away to find someone that could stop this death match but the two children stop you.

“No, no!” They say in unison, dragging you back to the railing and pointing down.

“Don’t you worry, he always wins, this piece of scrap is nuthing to him!” Rumble explains, eagerly watching as Doctor Sowa gets pinned down at the cloud.

You could only close your eyes and bite your tongue, expecting the worst to become of him. A loud ‘CHOOM’ echoes through as the arena is silenced, only a faint buzzing lingering in the air. You crack your eyes open, only to see the same blue fire only a few feet behind the fading black cloud.

Sowa was still standing, unphased by the impact he had taken. The crowd broke out in a cheer, the boo’s of whoever was around quickly being quieted by the unholy shriek of victory from Rumble. Suddenly you were being dragged away again, your heels scraping against the ground as the two light children all but carried you down a flight of stairs to the side.

“Where are we going?” You ask just as your feet finally get the message and start to move with the kids. They let your elbows go for just long enough that you weren't walking backwards before they grabbed your arm again and dragged.

“To see him,” Frenzy answered curtly, kicking open an old door with his foot and leaving a dark green light flashing and jumping back before it could hit him.

“Doctor Sowa?”

“Um… no,” Frenzy said, looking up at you. You could only assume he was confused but since he was faceless it could have been any range of emotion.

“He ain’t a doctor, he’s the best fighter ever!” Rumble chirped, stopping at a door before letting your elbow go. Frenzy followed suit, opening the door and walking in calmly.

Rumble pushed you in and the unbearable roar of the crowd was instantly muted, replaced with a soft humming of the man sitting in a chair.

“Sowa,” You say in relief, before you could even open your mouth again he gestured for you to sit. You did, taking place in an old metal chair that was rusted and slightly blue.

He nodded and took off the face mask, revealing scarred lips covered in blood and flickering purple lights. Rumble and Frenzy were now by Sowa’s side, gripping onto his pant legs and muttering amongst themselves again.

“Where are we?” You asked after a moment of enjoying the quiet, leaning back against the chair to look Sowa in the eyes.

“A memory,” His voice came out hoarsely, like a sound not spoken in eons, an echoing sound of an old pipe filled with holes. It was slightly monotone, yet you felt everything he felt. A deep calm washed over you as you spoke, “a good one.”

“You’re talking.”

“I am, this was a time before I took my vow of silence.”

“Are these your-”

“Children… yes, you seem to already be well acquainted,” he says in the same tone, watching the children as they run off to the corner and start tumbling around,

You watch them as well, unsure of where to go off of this before finally speaking up again, “I thought you said…”

“This is a memory, (Y/N), they have long since been… extinguished,” His voice gets solemn and Rumble tackles Frenzy into a pile of rubber scraps. They burst out into a fit of laughter as they grab handfuls of rubber and hurl it at one another. “They are the reason for my silence.”

One of the handfuls hits you square in the face, the black pieces falling into your lap. The children, blissfully aware of the faceful of old rubber you had just received, continued to play.

“Why am I here?” You ask, beginning to collect the pieces of rubber that had fallen into your lap. You place them in your palm one by one, the sides fitting together like a puzzle piece.

“You’re injured,” he states simply, standing up and plucking bits of it out of your hair.

“It’s rubber, not acid,” you chuckle, looking down at the deformed puzzle in your palm. It vaguely resembles a sharper version of the Autobots symbol.

“Your spark,” he reached out, pressing his palm flat against your chest. You could feel your heart beating through your body, a constant and rhythmic bump-bumping that almost made your head hurt, “You’re drained, you shouldn’t have gone with the Autobot.”

“Cliffjumper?” You ask, your head jerking up from your palm to look in the face, “is he okay? Did the others manage to find him?”

He stayed silent. With the other hand, he reached down and curled your palm up, the rubber symbol crumbling and falling to the floor. He took his hand away from your chest, pushing up and away from you as he went over to pull the two fighting children away from each other.

Before you could even speak to ask again, a cat jumped up on your lap. Well… it wasn’t really a cat, only a dark purple light in the shape of a cat, but it purred as it settled down onto your lap.

“That is Ravage,” he sits back down, both the children under each arm and dangling limply as they mutter angrily to one another.

You run your hand over the light, it didn't feel like fur instead like… scratchy carpet. You cringe, the sensation sending chills down your spine but the cat was purring even louder so you continued, “He’s cute.”

He nodded, switching the children to sit on his lap. He looked down at the two children, now happily leaning against their father and falling asleep, a day of screaming and dragging around a grown human would do that to a child.

“Is he gone?”

He stays silent, still looking down at the two children and at your lap.

“Doctor, is Cliffjumper gone?”

“It is… not known yet,” he says quietly, standing up and walking over to the rubber pile, setting the two children down in it before turning back to you, “I believe you say that it is ‘up for debate’.”

“Yeah for something like parents arguing or what to eat for dinner not… a friend dying,” you say quietly, picking up Ravage and hugging him against your chest.

He stays silent again looking for the words.

“You cared for him.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand… You barely knew him, he was nothing more then your caretaker,” he starts, his voice gurgling into something robotic as the lights flickered, “you care for someone you know nothing about.”

“So? He was still a person, and he cared for me, and nobody deserves to die just for trying to survive,” You whisper. Ravage meows in your arms, squirming in discomfort at your harsh pets. You ease up on the pets, your gaze locking with the ground.

“It’s a war, he was bound to die eventually.”

“So are you, but you don’t have to be an ass about it,” You snap, letting Ravage shimmy out of your arms and watching him as he crawls up on Sowa’s lap, “And even if you were right, wars are stupid, nobody deserves to be in a war.”

He didn’t answer, instead standing up and letting Ravage scale up to his shoulder as he walked to the foam pit and set down the two kids. They groan, mildly protesting before letting go and holding onto each other instead. Ravage joined them, resting at their heads and purring quietly.

“You are more kind than many people, perhaps this war could have been avoided if you were there,” he said lowly, kneeling in front of you and taking your hand, “but it is doubtful your opinion would have stopped the two factions from fighting.”

“Thanks I feel so much better,” You pull away from Sowa and stand up, dragging your hand down your face as you walk to the wall.

You rest your head against the wall, closing your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself in a pseudo hug. He was right, you were one person, even if you had been there, what would a little human do to stop a war? What could one person do to stop a war?

Two arms wrapped around you, keeping you firmly pressed against his chest as Sowa sighed. He rested his head on your shoulder, keeping silent for a moment before squeezing you gently.

“It’s not your fault, and you're not even supposed to be involved in this, you cannot feel guilty for a war and death that was inevitable,” He muttered, pulling away and turning you back to look at him, his lips pressed into a thin line and he reached up and wiped away the wet from your cheek.

“I have to.” Your voice comes out weak and cracked. You had to, they were people too, people who had dreams, had ambitions, had friends and families. Bumblebee had known nothing but war, he didn’t know what peace meant.

“No, you don’t, this doesn’t involve you.” He mimicked your volume, “This is a memory, my memory, this was what I experienced before the war, I would give many things to have this moment back.”

He gestured to the three in the foam pit, soundly asleep and snoring softly. He turned back to you and cupped your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb over it.

“You are a smart and capable human, you can make a new life until I find a way for you to go home,” he whispered, slowly moving you towards the foam pit, “You cannot stay with the autobots.”

Before you could protest, he brought you down into the foam pit next to the three sleeping. He sits down beside you, awkwardly bending his lanky legs to fit in the pile of foam.

“I can’t leave the Autobots, they said they’d get me home once the war was over-”

“This war will never be over until we destroy each other,if you get more involved with this then you already are, the Decepticons would not hesitate to kill you and go to your home as well.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer.

His body radiated a heat that almost burned you, making you close your eyes as the intense waves of heat rolled off him. He let out a breath, his chest heaving up and down. The heat died down a little, but didn’t leave.

“My Children died in this war, I only have one left, I do not wish for you to suffer as I have,” he says softly, squeezing you tightly, “You have no one you need to protect, you need to be protected.”

“I…I can’t just leave, Sowa, I care for these people and I might be able to help,” you try to explain, opening your eyes and looking up at him. He was looking down at you, his eyes locking onto yours before he nodded slowly.

“I can’t force you,” he said quietly, his arm loosening around you, “just please, think about it.”

Little hands grabbed your shirt, a quiet groan coming from the faces now buried in your stomach from the two dimmed lights that had somehow managed to roll over to where you were without you noticing.

“Are ya leavin’?” Rumble mutters, tiredly rubbing his face as he looks up at you. He grabbed another handful of your shirt and yanked you to lay down, snuggling into your side, “Please don’t, I like ya, ya sound nice an’ we don’t got a carrier.”

He shoved the side of his head against your chest and Frenzy did the same to your back, effectively trapping you with their tiny, ungodly strong hands.

“Aw honey, I'm sorry but I gotta go eventually,” You say, softening at the child's plea for your company.

“Pleaseee, I promise we’ll be good,” Frenzy whines, his arms tightening almost painfully around your chest.

Another pair of arms wrap around the three of you, pulling you deeper into the pile of foam. Sowa curled around you three, carefully making sure to set Ravage on your side.

“Stay, sleep for a bit, you’ll be okay when you wake up just… think about what I said.”

The purple haze washes over you again, mixed with the lights of Rumble, Frenzy, and Ravages. It was warm, the comforting fog of the family made you sink further into your mind. Away from worry, away from war, away from the Autobots and Decepticons. The sting of your broken soul faded away, filled with his instead. He was supporting you, keeping you from falling back down.

“I’m so sorry for what has happened to you, but I will not let you fade,” he promised. The promise was a lock, the citrusy smell digging into your smell and anchoring it there. He urged you to sleep, they all did.

Stay.

Sleep.

Please just be with us.

Your eyes closed, you were safe in his arms, in his memories you would never leave. A permanent resident of his happiest time. The sparks of the many he had created along with one he had saved. He was happy here, you were happy here.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Panicked noises woke up, beeping, the roaring of fire, the slamming windchimes, rain, the beating of a heart- it was to much- too much-

A cowbell.

A guitar string.

And a steady faucet drip.

They were new, they were… odd, almost as panicked as the others but in a strange way, scared.

Little hands touched your arm and the dinging got louder, A gentle shake tried to rouse you from your sleep. Another rougher grasp took hold of your arm, viciously shakily you as the thrumming got more frequent. The rougher hand was pulled away by the water, a mutter broke through the barrage of worried noise.

“Stop…. Hurt….”

The three new sounds were pulled away as the windchimes came closer. The ground left your back and was replaced by warm metal digits that trembled lightly.The three sounds quickly came back, clambering onto the servo with you, getting quieter in the presence of the windchimes.

“Wake up, please.”

The genuinity of the voice made it hard to resist its plea. As much as you wanted to stay with the pleasant feel of the four who had asked so nicely for you to stay, the panicking voice of Ratchet made it hard to stay.

Your eyes cracked open and the usually blinding light was replaced with the several bright blue lights of your inhuman friends and the softer eyes of three humans hovering above you.

“Look! Street girl’s waking up!”