#tiny house workshop | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

smileysuh · 4 days ago

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sage & stardust

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment. You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu holds y/n down by the wrists, size kink, mentions of possible bondage kink, heavy petting, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple sucking, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, oral (f receiving), praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 9.6k

🍭 aus. Fairy au, fantasy au, non idol.

☀️ mlist + an. Okay, so, I’ve written sooo many fics on this blog, and lately I’ve been wanting to try things I haven’t done before. I’ve never done a legit small man fairy dude (who does become normal/large sized later) x yn in a fic before, so bare with me, because these two are such a delightfully domestic pairing. Without further adieu, I give you: blue-collar fairy Mingyu.

Prologue

Pandora lives in a little cottage in the forest. Even though she’s young, she knows the trees and ferns, the mushrooms and flowers. Who needs mundane playthings when you have four entire acres of wilderness to keep you entertained?

Her mother is an artist, and steady hands run in the family. Pandora spends her evenings carefully painting a dollhouse model of the cottage that her father had crafted for her in his little workshop shed outside.

All in all, it’s a peaceful existence, and things are very predictable. Mother is in the studio solarium room, fingers covered in inks and colorful spots. Father is crafting something in his shed, fixing up the house as he engages in an endless war against the elements of the forest.

Pandora flutters around, checking in on her parents, and exploring the immediate grounds around the cottage. Today, she’s following a particularly beautiful butterfly as it glides amongst the trees down by the pond. She’s so enamored with the pretty wings, that she almost doesn’t notice the fairy ring.

A circle of mushrooms, one she’s scouted out before, is along the bank of the murky water. Pandora has heard tales of fairies and pixies, and has been warned not to enter circles like this. She sidesteps the ring, and that’s when she notices something out of place, something that hadn’t been there yesterday.

Just outside of the little circle, is a small creature. At first glance, the glossy wings look butterfly-like, but Pandora has never seen sage green wings like these on a bug. The small child pauses, hiking up her dress and kneeling down to get a better look.

Definitely not a butterfly. Where an insect would have a thorax at the joining of wings, this creature has a tiny little man. Well, he’s bigger than a butterfly would be, but it’s clear to the young girl that she’s looking at a fairy, and as she inspects him further, she notices one of his wings is torn.

Pandora has mended butterfly wings with her father before- she knows what to do, but she’s hesitant. Should she help this small fairy, as she’s helped many bugs before him? Is he simply resting and not in immediate danger?

She looks around, noting any predators in the surrounding area. A large bird circles overhead, and Pandora decides she has to act. Reaching for a leaf, she scoops the tiny fairy's body into the greenery, carefully carrying him back toward the cottage.

As she gets there, she sees her father getting into his work truck to head to town, and Pandora knows better than to stop him. She also knows better than to go interrupt her mother, who is on a deadline for a piece and has asked not to be disturbed.

No, Pandora will have to do this rescue mission herself, and she heads into her father’s workshop to find the glue.

She does her best to be gentle, even with her pudgy fingers, as she mends the torn wing. When she’s done, Pandora finds one of the many small boxes her father has made. It’s a cedar box, with a small, iron latch.

Leaving the fairy, she goes outside, collecting a little nest of moss to put into the box.

When everything is finished, she sets the fairy into the box, carefully closing it and latching it shut. He needs some rest, and as far as the small child is concerned, he’s safer in her little box than lying in the grass where big predators might hurt him.

One:

“I’m sure it’s no surprise that your grandmother left you the cottage,” the lawyer in charge of the estate tells you as he looks over the papers on his desk. “As you are the only artist in the family, Pandora wrote that she hopes the solace will inspire, as it had inspired her, and her mother before her.”

You nod solemnly. It’s a monumental gift, one your cousins would kill you for- but alas, you’d spent the most time with your grandmother in her later days, and the solarium studio is already set up as your own. To be young, and a homeowner now- this had never been your intention in spending time with her, but perhaps it’s a happy outcome, given the dire situation of her passing.

“She also wanted me to tell you, that you can finally open the box.” The lawyer looks at you expectantly, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Do you know what she was referring to?”

“Yes,” you respond. “She’d kept this small cedar box. Her father had made it for her when she was a child. It’s on her nightstand, but she’s never opened it.”

“Well, that’s… interesting.”

“Yeah, Pandora’s Box, I know the story,” you let out a sad chuckle. “Part of me doesn’t want to open it, she always told me not to, I guess I made it this big bad thing in my head as a kid.”

“I’m sure it’s just jewelry or something of the sort,” the lawyer assures you, and you remind yourself that men of the law are never the superstitious type.

Two:

You’re a few glasses deep into your bottle of wine, and you find yourself looking at your grandmother’s small cedar box. Curiosity is getting the better of you, and liquid courage is doing wonders to calm your superstitions.

There can’t be anything dangerous in the box, or your grandma wouldn’t have left it for you… right?

Taking a breath, you approach the box. It’s sitting on your dining room table, you’d gingerly carried it from the bedroom earlier, with the intention of opening it, and now, you will.

You sit, staring at it for a few moments. Your hands shake when you reach for it, but you push away your anxiety. The iron latch is old and worn, but it clicks open after a bit of work. Taking another deep breath, you lift the cedar lid.

Nothing happens, no surge of dark spirits releasing the worst of humanity, no hurricane or pestilence-

You lean forward, looking into the box, and you’re shocked by what you find there.

Half buried in a nest of mossy greens that looked like they were only picked hours ago, is a small winged man. It’s a fairy, you realize, with glossy wings-

He stirs a little, stretching his arms above his head and yawning.

How could this be? Ignoring the moss that’s apparently been preserved for over seventy years, how is this tiny creature still alive after being shut away for a lifetime?

Part of you wants to close the box, to forget about it- but then the tiny man’s eyes open, and he stares up at you. You freeze immediately, as if paralyzed, your mind going blank in the face of the supernatural.

The fairy rubs his eyes, sitting up amongst the bed of moss. His hair is all messy, but in a way that’s kind of adorable. He gazes up at you, and then, he speaks. “Hello?”

“Hi?” It comes out a question, and you’re unsure how to proceed, so you say nothing else.

“Sorry, this is embarrassing,” he laughs, and you note the way his skin has turned pink. “Did you save me?”

“As horrible as this sounds, I uh… inherited you?”

“I don’t even know what that means,” the tiny man muses. “I remember being attacked by a large bird in my realm, my wing was damaged, I made my way to a fairy ring to come to your world and recuperate, but I must have passed out.”

You consider his words for a moment. “My grandma used to fix butterfly wings, is it possible she found you and fixed yours?”

The fairy extends one of his sage appendages, inspecting it. “It definitely looks repaired… Your grandma, you said?”

“Yes.” You nod. “I was told she’d had this box since she was a girl… have you been in here for a long time?”

“I was in hibernation, the dark and the moss- it was healing, I awoke because of the light.”

“So you have been in there for years,” you conclude, shocked. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“How many years is ‘years?’ You humans have a different view of time than I do.”

“Probably seventy or eighty?” you suggest.

“It didn’t feel like that long.” He cocks his head to the side, clearly thinking, then he looks up at you again. “How long have you had me?”

“I uh…” you swallow thickly at the question. “Well, I just inherited the cottage, and my grandma left the box to me in her will too… so, only two days.”

He nods, looking down, continuing to think hard about whatever it is that fairies ponder deeply on.

“How… how do you feel?”

“Well rested,” he smiles, breaking the look of deep concentration. “I’m ready to get back to tinkering.”

Tinkering… that definitely sounds like a fairy word, and you don’t question him further.

“Please don’t let me stop you from getting back to your home,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience of my grandmother keeping you in this box all this time.”

“It’s alright,” he yawns again, then pushes himself up from the moss. He’s dressed in a little green fairy outfit, and you do your best to commit him to your memory. His wings are truly beautiful, the way they shimmer even in the electric light of your kitchen. “I remember a pond.”

“Yes, there’s one right out the back way, must be a fairy circle there,” you nod.

“Thank you for the directions,” he smiles sincerely, and then, he begins to fly. You wonder how such delicate-looking wings could carry his body weight as he heads toward your open kitchen window. He lands on the ledge there, turning to give you one final nod of farewell, and then the fairy is gone.

You sit there for a few minutes, staring after him in shock.

How much wine did you have to drink?

Three:

It’s a Thursday like any other. You’re getting used to living in this cute cottage in the woods, spending your mornings waking up with the sun, heating a kettle for tea, and letting the creative juices flow in your mind before you ease your way to the studio to paint.

It’s the end of spring, and the promise of summer warmth is looming on the horizon.

You’re just beginning to contemplate breakfast when there’s a knock at your door, and it makes your heart freeze in your chest.

Although you might be getting somewhat accustomed to the seclusion, there are still very real dangers of being a single woman out on a large property alone in the woods, and this fact makes you hesitant as you head to your front door.

You can make out a large man through the glass, and you take a breath before peaking your head out. “Hello?”

It takes you a moment to recognize the man, as he’s substantially larger than the last time you saw him. The fairy is no longer palm-sized, instead, he’s well over six foot, and he flashes an awkward smile down at you. “Hi.”

You take in his attire, the worn jeans and the green flannel… you also note that he’s barefooted. “You’re wearing my grandpa's clothes.”

“Yeah, I uh… noticed the box in your truck, figured you might be getting rid of them anyways, so I slipped in through a crack in the window. I couldn’t just show up naked.”

Good point. “You’re big now,” you point out.

“Can I uh… can I come in?” He rubs the back of his neck nervously, surveying your front porch.

You take a breath. Part of you says this is a bad idea, but part of you is also saying that this is a fairy the size of a human man, and if you don’t hear him out, you’ll be wondering what could have been for the rest of your life.

You push your door open for him. “I just made some tea, follow me.”

The fairy’s footsteps are loud on your wooden floors as he shadows you to the kitchen. You give him your cup, pouring a second one for yourself before leaning back against your sink.

“I don’t even know where to start,” the fairy sighs, taking a seat at your small dining table. He cups his large hands around the mug of tea, as if warming himself.

“Well, I’m y/n,” you tell him.

He smiles thankfully. “Mingyu.”

“Nice to meet you again, Mingyu, how about you tell me how you’re human-sized and your wings are gone?”

“Fairies can transform. In my own realm, keeping my smaller shape is easier, but here- it takes less energy to just… blend in. It’s a sort of, um, adaptation, for survival, I guess.”

“It doesn’t make sense how you can go from tiny to massive,” you point out.

“Well, you see, I’m big for a fairy,” Mingyu laughs nervously. “It’s part of the reason I never fit in that well with others of my kind.”

You frown at his words, giving him the space to continue.

“Yeah, so anyways, I went back home, and I had been gone a while, and it just felt weird. I hadn’t fit in before, and I didn’t fit in when I got back, and I guess I just figured… you’re a girl, and you’re here alone, in the forest- I mentioned I’m a tinkerer right? I fix things? Was thinking maybe I could help fix up your place.”

Is he seriously offering to fix your house? You stare at him in shock. “I’ve never really thought about fairies being blue-collared.”

“Blue-collared?” he looks down at his flannel in confusion.

“Never mind, it’s uh, it’s a phrase, it means you’re a worker, you do building and stuff.”

“I’m really good at building and fixing things,” he nods solemnly.

“So… you want to stay here with me? Room, board, food… in return, you’ll fix up the cottage?” you clarify.

“I guess.”

You study him. “I’ve heard about pixies and fairies who try to lure people into fairy rings-”

“It’s not like that, I promise.” He meets your gaze. “Look, what if I fix your little shed workshop thing, show you what I can do, and you can decide later?”

You consider it for a moment. “I guess that could work, but first, you’ll need some workboots.”

“If you think that’s best.”

God, he probably does most of his tinkering while fairy-sized and barely wearing clothes… which isn’t something you want to think about.

Setting your tea down, you head to one of the back closets, where you’d stashed away a few of your grandfather’s possessions, the important things, unlike the donation box currently in your truck.

You find Mingyu some shoes, and when you go give them to him, he flashes you a smile and heads outside to get to work.

Four:

You’re doing your best to focus on painting, but your solarium gives you a perfect view of your grandfather's old work shed, where Mingyu is currently tinkering around.

He’s fast, and it’s clear he knows what he’s doing.

Your grandfather’s shed has a whole stash of tools, shingles, and wood, and Mingyu has already redone the roof, ripped a few worn boards off to replace them along the sides, and completed general tidying work.

He’s even weed-whacked the tall grass around the workstation, and as lunch turns into evening, he comes back from the woods with a small tree on his shoulder, which he then begins to chop for firewood.

You can definitely see how he’d be helpful to have around… and you can afford to feed him if he’s going to fix up your home. He’s probably already done a couple hundred dollars of work, maybe even a thousand- work that you’d been meaning to hire someone to deal with once you’d settled in a little more.

You get started on dinner. You’d planned on rice bowls, and it’s easy enough to make a plate for him. Then, you go outside, calling him toward you.

Mingyu’s sweaty, and he’s got some sawdust on his jeans- but God, does he look handsome and chipper.

“I made dinner,” you tell him.

He nods, smiling before following you inside. You note the way he takes off his boots at your door, brushing off his pants, careful not to bring any dirt into your otherwise tidy house.

The two of you sit down to eat, and he’s extremely verbal about how thankful he is for the food, and how good it tastes-

You come up with an avenue of discussion to distract him from his praises. “What would you living here entail?”

He pauses. “I hadn’t thought too hard about it.”

“I feed you, you do work, you live here?”

“Something like that.”

“How long do you keep your human shape?”

Mingyu takes a breath, setting down his spoon. “I’ll be honest with you, whether you see it this way or not, your grandmother saved me. I was wounded, I came to your realm, anything could have gotten me, but your grandma saved me, glued my wing, and kept me safe so I could hibernate and heal. I owe your family. My home isn’t my home anymore, please let me help you make this cottage your home.”

“No, I-” you release the tension in your shoulders, “you can stay, but, seriously, how long do you keep your human shape?”

“Is it a space thing?” Mingyu looks around. “I can be small when I sleep if it’s a space thing-”

“I mean, my grandma has a replica doll house of the cottage that her dad made for her, was going to offer that up for you.” It’s meant to be a joke, but Mingyu takes it completely seriously, nodding diligently.

“That works, I just have to go collect some moss to make a bed-”

“Are you being for real?” you ask, blinking at him.

“I should probably go back to my normal size when I sleep, it makes sense and takes up less space,” Mingyu nods.

“If you change your mind, I do have a spare bedroom.”

“Nope,” the man-sized fairy shakes his head, “the doll house works.”

“Well… if you want to go get some moss, I can grab the box of clothes from my truck,” you suggest.

“Let’s do it.” Mingyu is so easy, he just agrees to everything.

Soon the two of you are reconvening at your front door, you with a box, him with a palm full of moss. “The doll house is in the studio, I was planning to paint it.” Mingyu follows you to the solarium. In the dark of the evening, you have to turn on the fairy lights you’d strung up, and Mingyu lets out a breath.

Even you have to admit the space has ambiance. The solarium studio is a lovely part of the house, your favorite in fact, although, tonight, you’re feeling a little shy about your art strewn about.

“Did you paint all of these?” Mingyu asks, approaching your most recent work.

“Yeah, they’re uh, abstracts,” you explain. “I mean, I gather a lot of inspiration from nature, but it’s more a feeling than a specific thing that I like to paint, if that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Mingyu nods, leaning down to get a better look at your art.

“My grandma, she uh, she was an artist too, and so was her mother, and she gave me the house because she knew I needed inspiration-”

“Maybe that’s why she gave you me too.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and you blink up at the tall man. “Uh… maybe.”

“So this cottage has a long line of artists and tinkerers,” Mingyu concludes.

“The line ended in my mother’s generation,” you sigh.

“That’s not true.” Mingyu looks down at you. “We’re here now.”

Five:

You wake up feeling as refreshed and well-rested as ever. It’s odd how much of a difference having a male presence in the house can make, even if he was the size of your palm while you were sleeping.

You’ve been here over a month, but you’ve not yet gotten used to the seclusion, the feeling of being alone. Mingyu is an unexpected comfort, and you quietly tiptoe to your solarium to see if he’s awake.

The nest of moss in the dollhouse is empty, and you move to your kitchen, getting a kettle started before looking out the window. Mingyu’s lumbering around in the tree line. He’s dressed in a white shirt and blue jeans, and damn does it look good.

You turn on some music, quietly making breakfast for two while trying to fight the urge to watch the beautiful man.

You’d slept in more than normal, another byproduct of feeling safe, and due to that, by the time you’re taking two plates of food outside, the temperature of the late spring air is already warming with the noon sun.

“Mingyu,” you call, finding him by the workshed, “breakfast!”

He bounds over like a puppy, and you set the plates down on a small circular table. The metal lawn set can be a bit rough, and you’ve tried to soften it with comfy pillows. Mingyu doesn’t seem to mind as he plops down, grabbing the bacon sandwich you’d prepared.

“Smells delicious,” he tells you, taking the largest bite of food you’ve ever seen.

You watch him, amused. “Did you get up early?”

“Yeah, I don’t need much sleep. Just spent eighty years sleeping, or so you tell me.” Mingyu smiles at you, a tight-lipped smile to hide the food in his mouth, you’re sure.

“It’s a nice day,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair and looking at the world around you.

The sun is out, it’s a little cold, but the sky is clear. Dew drops are in the last stages of evaporation, clinging to the green strands of grass along the hillside area that leads down to the pond.

“Every day is a good day for tinkering,” Mingyu agrees. “Which, I meant to ask- is there anything you wanted me to do?”

“Uh… like what?”

“I’ll finish the shed soon,” Mingyu promises. “I already have ideas about extending it, but, if you wanted me to paint the house, fix anything inside that’s a little wonky and in need of tinkering-”

“I think you should focus on the shed, if you want to extend it, you should.” For some reason, you’re apprehensive about him coming into the house just yet- you need to… acclimatize to his presence, and right now, having a wall of glass between the two of you is keeping your heart from exploding every time you look at him. “Do you uh… do you need anything to build your addition?”

“Your grandfather kept a lot of tools, nails, screws- and we’re surrounded by trees. He had loads of extra shingles, enough for years of repairs to the cottage and the shed.” Mingyu smiles at you. “I think I’ll manage… but, when it comes time to paint it, maybe we could paint it together?”

“Maybe.” You can feel your skin heating at the idea. “Anyways, I wanted to bring you some food, now I’ve gotta go inside my studio and get to work.”

“Sounds good, tinkering calls, thanks for breakfast.” Mingyu pushes the last massive bite of his sandwich into his mouth before standing up.

He nods to you and then you watch him go, sneaking a look at his butt before you tear your eyes away.

This could either be the best idea of your life, or the worst.

Six:

Mingyu had taken his time with the shed. He’d made it twice the size, and added more windows that your grandfather had left sitting around in the original structure- it’s crazy how much he’s accomplished using only the things that are left over and semi discarded.

Then, Mingyu had taken to restoring the inside. He’d spent two days just moving stuff around, tidying and dusting- and another day just cutting wood to fill up his firewood stash.

Now, a week after showing up at your door, he’s finally come inside to begin tinkering with old hinges and loose screws. He’s going over every inch of your cottage to make sure it’s up to his fairy standards, and you’re extremely aware of him, especially when he makes it to the solarium to begin to work.

The french doors have been a little off for years, one hinge is a little wonky- and it’s hard to focus on your painting while Mingyu’s standing there and fiddling- or, scratch that, tinkering.

“Watcha working on?” Mingyu asks, and you suppose he must have caught you staring.

“Oh, uh… it’s a new project, and starting is always the hardest part.”

Mingyu comes around your easel, looking at the new blank canvas you had pulled out just an hour ago.

“Do you have any ideas?” he questions.

“I mean… one or two.”

Mingyu cocks his head at you. “Tell me.”

You release a deep sigh. “I guess… I was wondering if maybe… maybe I could paint your wings sometime, in an abstract sort of way.”

Mingyu is quiet for a few moments, and you immediately try to backpedal, but he stops you. “No, it’s okay, sorry, I was just- I’ve never been someone’s muse before.”

“You haven’t?”

He shakes his head. “In uh… where I come from, my wings aren’t exactly that extraordinary.”

“Really?” you ask in shock.

“Yeah, they’re just green. I know a lot of fairies with all sorts of colored wings, pinks, purples- every color of the rainbow. Green is… well, it’s bland, it’s like everything else in the forest.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “You seem to forget that I came to the forest for inspiration- the greens here are beautiful. If I remember correctly, your wings are like… sage and stardust.”

“Sage and stardust,” Mingyu repeats, his voice like a whisper. He cracks a smile. “I like that.”

“So you’ll let me paint them?”

“If it would make you happy.”

“It would.”

“Then yes, you can paint by wings.”

Seven:

Mingyu’s continued his daily tinkerings, but now, your evenings are spent in your solarium. You’d found one of your grandmother’s magnifying glasses, the type she used for butterfly wing repair, and Mingyu is the perfect muse, sitting patiently and letting you inspect him.

You’d spent half an hour just trying to get the color of his wings right, and now, you’re doing long brush strokes against the cream canvas. You’d found some glitter too, and while Mingyu spends most of the time sitting on your shoulder while you’re painting, he also offers to douse his hands in sparkles and do the small details for you.

It’s odd, thirsting for this large, beefy man during the day, only for him to downsize and nuzzle into your hair at night- he’s still so cute as a fairy, and his wings are truly beautiful.

“You see me like this?” Mingyu asks, fluttering off your shoulder to gaze at the painting. He’s so small in comparison to the large canvas. “These are really my wings?”

“They’re beautiful, Gyu,” you tell him, giving him a nickname without a second thought.

“Gyu,” Mingyu repeats, turning to look at you. “I like that.”

You hold out your paint brush, and he flutters over to it, balancing on the wooden handle.

It’s crazy how you’re already getting used to him- to the little things, Mingyu included.

Eight:

It’s gotten to the point where Mingyu wants to paint the shed, so the two of you decide to head into town together. It’s a small population, and you know that the sight of the two of you is raising a few eyebrows as you enter the paint store.

Mingyu sticks out, not only for his size, but his beauty as well. He truly is stunning, and you notice multiple women staring as the two of you wander around the store.

“So what coloring are you thinking?” Mingyu asks, heading to a wall of paint swatches.

“I mean… I just sort of figured we’d repaint it to match the house again?” you suggest.

“Well… it’s your house now,” Mingyu points out. “What are your dream colors?”

“My dream colors?”

“Yeah, I promised you I’d help you make it your dream home, didn’t I?”

Your heart melts as you stare up at this gorgeous man. He has such a soft heart, you can’t believe how much you care for him after only two weeks, how much he clearly cares for you- but you try not to read into it too deeply.

You turn to look at the paint swatches, truly considering what your dream home would look like.

You choose a pallet, showing it to Mingyu, and he nods. “This will be great.”

The two of you go to get the paint, and soon, you’re back in your truck. You try to play the radio, but it doesn’t drown out your thoughts, so you turn the music down.

“Did you notice how many people were looking at you today?” you ask.

“Hmm?” Mingyu tears his gaze from the trees moving by.

“Girls, a lot were staring.”

“Were you staring?”

You flash a glimpse at Mingyu and find him grinning at you… is there a mutual attraction here? Does he like you the way you like him?

Things are just so easy. Choosing paint with him for your house, letting him make your house your dream house- it all just feels so domestic, not to mention the fact that you generally don’t like people watching you work on your art, but you feel comfortable with him.

“I, uh… yeah, I look at you, we’re friends.” You cough, forcing your eyes back to the road.

“Close friends,” Mingyu confirms.

You turn the radio back up, and Mingyu looks out at the trees again, but he doesn’t stop smiling, and your heart doesn’t stop racing either.

Nine:

It’s hard to sleep. You can’t help but think about the car ride with Mingyu earlier.

He has to be attracted to you… right?

He’s been more touchy during your late-night painting sessions, and less afraid to cuddle up in your hair. You’ve noticed him watching you too… often when you look at him, you catch his gaze already on you.

Cohabitation with a man as fine as he is- well, you know where it leads, and you’re a little shocked you’ve gotten this far without breaking first.

You toss and turn in your bed, groaning.

God, when was the last time you were this horny?

Can you… can you touch yourself with him right downstairs? Is that weird? What if he catches you? Mingyu said it himself, he doesn’t sleep much- and… is his hearing better as a fairy? You don’t actually know much about his abilities when he has wings… maybe these are things you should ask.

You let out a sigh, bringing your hand to your breast through your sleeping shirt. In no time at all, your nipple is pebbled against your touch. You release another breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Mingyu.

You search through your memories, deciding to focus on the thought of him chopping wood. God, in his little tank top, his muscles all bulging and glorious- the way his sweat begins to drip, making the fabric stick to his skin, showing off his abdominal muscles-

You can feel your pussy getting wet, and you begin to glide a hand down between your legs-

You stop, opening your eyes. Fuck, you can’t do this. It feels dirty, sinful- and not in a fun flirty way.

This isn’t something that you can continue with- you can’t keep feeling this way. You have to tell Mingyu how you feel. If it ruins everything then it ruins everything, but you can’t keep this cohabitation agreement up if you’re falling in love with the man- or, should you say, fairy.

God, maybe you should have never opened Pandora’s Box. It wasn’t a flurry of chaos, not one you could see anyway, but you’re beginning to feel chaotic inside, and coming clean to Mingyu is the only way to get it settled.

Ten:

When you wake up the next morning, you move slowly. You have a shower, make some tea, and then, after going through an internal script numerous times, you decide to go outside to tell Mingyu how you feel.

He’s been painting the shed all morning, that much is obvious from how much he’s completed- and to make matters worse for yourself, he’s shirtless.

You almost turn and go right back inside, but instead, you pull up your big girl panties, taking a few deep breaths.

You have to do this, you’ll regret it if you don’t- just as you knew you’d regret it if you hadn’t let Mingyu inside a few weeks ago to hear him out.

“Gyu?” you call.

“Oh, hi!” he waves, and you watch paint splatter everywhere from the brush in his hand. “Oops!”

God, he’s so- he’s so- he’s a big dork, in the best way possible.

You watch Mingyu wipe his hand across his abdomen, clearing the splatter stain there. “Had to take my shirt off, painting isn’t my strong suit sometimes,” he explains, putting the brush back into the can before he approaches you. “What’s up?”

Suddenly, everything you’d planned to say to him just disappears from your mind.

“Are you thirsty?” you ask, voice cracking.

“Could use some water,” he nods.

“Come inside,” you instruct, tearing your gaze away from Mingyu’s perfect body to lead him back into your cottage.

He follows you like a good boy, taking his boots off on your deck before joining you in the kitchen where you have a cup of water waiting for him.

Your hand is practically shaking as you give him the cup, and he looks you up and down, an expression of concern appearing on his face. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You swallow thickly, shaking your head. “Just… a little jittery.”

“Is there something on your mind?” Mingyu questions, taking a sip of his water.

God, he’s still shirtless, and it’s as if he doesn’t even realize it! It’s as if being half naked in your kitchen is the most normal thing in the world to him!

You take a deep breath, doing your best to hype yourself up. “I like you,” you say finally.

“I like you too,” Mingyu grins.

“No, I… I like like you.”

“Like like?” he repeats, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

“As in… I think you’re really amazing and good with your hands, and you’re handsome, and I enjoy spending time with you,” you blurt.

“I think you’re amazing, and good with your hands, and pretty, and I enjoy spending time with you too,” he counters, echoing the entirety of your sentiment.

You stare blankly up at the man. It’s clear he doesn’t know what you’re getting at. You wonder how fairies court each other- do they even court each other? Do fairies have sex? Or are they just… you don’t know, blossomed out of flower buds or something?

“Mingyu,” you take another very deep breath, stepping closer to him. “I feel for you, in here.” You put your hand over his heart, looking up at him, searching his brown eyes for some form of recognition, of understanding.

Mingyu’s lips part, and his gaze shifts to your hand, then, he slowly places his own over yours. His palm is warm, and he squeezes you gently. “Are you saying you love me?” he asks.

You blink… it feels like he’s skipping a few steps here. You love him as a friend, and you’re attracted to him, but you’re not… in love with him, not yet anyway.

“I-” You swallow thickly and decide to just be honest. “I think… things could be heading that way, with some more time.”

“More time?” Mingyu frowns a little. “Humans can be weird.”

“We can?” you laugh. “What’s love like for you?”

“Fairies don’t do anything halfway. We feel intensely, more so than humans I think.”

“Have you…” you cough. “Have you ever been in love before?”

“No.”

“So… how do you know what you’re feeling right now is love?”

“I know it because I would do anything for you. Just being near you makes me happy. I want to protect you, and provide for you- I’d give up my wings for you. I choose you over any of my own kind, because you understand me and accept me better than my own kind. I don’t need anyone else but you.”

You don’t know what to say, so you choose not to say anything. Instead, you get on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his own.

Mingyu freezes for a moment, but then he reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your body to pull you tight to his chest.

It’s a slow kiss, an exploratory one. It’s soft and gentle and every good thing, but you get the sense you’re going to have to lead the build-up of this. After a few kisses, you lick at his lower lip, and Mingyu responds by opening his mouth, allowing you to deepen the experience.

His hands grab your hips, and Mingyu pushes you backward until your bum hits the counter, then he lifts you onto it, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips.

As you kiss him, there’s a small voice in the back of your mind reminding you that this is a fairy. His original form is small… but as he grinds against you, you realize that what’s inside his pants right now is anything but tiny.

God, he feels so good- and he’s already shirtless, which gives you the perfect opportunity to graze your hands along his body, teasing the muscle you find there. Mingyu shivers from the contact, breaking the kiss.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply, and you can feel his heart racing under your palm.

“Do you want to do this? Even though you don’t love me the way I love you?” He asks.

“I want this, and I do love you Mingyu, I just…”

“You need more time,” he sighs.

“I think… do you remember how you said eighty years felt fast in the box for you? I feel like, you just move faster than I do, and that’s not a bad thing, it’s just… something we have to adjust for.”

“Adjust how?” Mingyu questions, looking down at you as his hands grip your hips harder.

You shrug. “Maybe you’ll just have to be patient with me.”

“Do I have to wait to say ‘I love you’ since you’re waiting?”

You smile up at him. “You can do anything that feels right, Mingyu.”

“This feels right,” Mingyu muses, pulling you closer to the edge of the table so he can grind his denim-clad cock against your core.

“Then do this,” you whisper, cupping his cheek and drawing his lips back to yours.

Mingyu doesn’t fight it, in fact, he melts into the kiss, and then, his hands are grabbing your thighs and he’s lifting you up.

You grip his strong shoulders, releasing a small squeal of shock- but you refuse to break the kiss as he begins to carry you through your cottage. He knows where your bedroom is, and it’s sweet that he wants your first time to be on an actual mattress- you’d half expected him to bend you over in your kitchen and have his way with you right there, but you suppose that’s not really his style.

You still have so much more to learn about Mingyu, and you’re excited to take your time learning it.

Mingyu lays you down gently on your bed, and his lips move to your throat. His hands find yours, and your fingers intertwine as he sucks on your sweet spot, making you moan and writhe against the bed beneath him.

“Fuck,” you groan, brows furrowing from the pleasure already coursing through you.

Mingyu grins against your throat, and then he begins to descend.

You’re wearing a sleeping shirt and boxers, and Mingyu’s hand is sneaking up the oversized fabric. “Can I take this off you?” he asks, pulling away and swallowing thickly, his gaze fixed on your covered chest.

You nod, but instead of forcing him to do it, you push on your wrist confines, prompting Mingyu to let you go so you can sit up, tearing the shirt off. You’re not wearing a bra, and Mingyu’s pupils blow at the sight.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again as he helps you back down to the bed. You relax against the duvet, enjoying the sensation of your bare chests rubbing against each other. Your nipples are pebbled from interest, and each brush of him against you feels like magic, especially when he begins to swivel his hips, grinding down against your pussy.

His mouth begins to move down again, and this time, there’s no fabric to stop him in his tracks. Mingyu’s lips wrap around your nipple, your fingers threading through his hair as you fight the urge to arch your back and moan like a whore in heat.

“Feels good,” you tell him, earning a groan from the large man who sucks on your pebbled bud even harder.

His free hand is on your hip, but soon, it’s rising to massage your neglected breast. His warm palm feels so good- your eyes close in pleasure, your body reacting to Mingyu and the foreplay he’s providing.

You thread your fingers deeper into his curls, gently massaging his scalp while he works you up, teasing you in the best possible way.

He’s clearly solely focused on you, you don’t think there’s an ulterior motive, a motive of getting you to beg or forcing you to wait, you think he’s simply enjoying you, and you love the feeling of being enjoyed in this way.

Even so- now it’s your patience that’s running thin, and you tug at his curls, forcing his mouth away from your breast. He looks up at you with confusion, lips parting in a silent question.

“I need you,” you tell him, swallowing thickly.

“You have me,” he assures you with a laugh.

“I mean-”

His hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your pussy through your boxers. “You mean, you need me here,” Mingyu finishes for you.

Fuck, he’s so hot- part of you had expected him to be a virgin fairy who’s never been in love, but it’s clear from his dirty talk that he’s no virgin.

Your pussy is wet, and you can feel a wet spot to match in your shorts, you’re sure Mingyu can feel it too.

“Since…” Mingyu takes a breath, and you can see his skin beginning to flush a pretty shade of pink, “since I’m the one who likes you more, maybe you’ll let me take my time and do what I want to do? Out of… pity?”

You laugh. “Pity? I don’t pity you- I kind of love you, Gyu, I said that-”

“Just kind of, though,” he points out, leaning down to bite your nipple gently.

You groan, arching your back and taking a deep breath. “Fine. Do whatever you want to me. Take your time. Worship me. Make me fall in love with you.”

Mingyu smiles, and then he whispers a soft, “Thank you,” before diving back toward your chest.

It’s clear that now that you’ve given him permission, he’s in no rush.

He worships your breasts, just like you’d told him to, taking all the time he wants to massage and lick and kiss and bite- and then, one of his hands returns between your legs, pushing your boxers to the side so he can access your dripping pussy.

He’s gentle at first, circling your sensitive clit and teasing your slit up and down. Then, after too much teasing for your tastes, he eases his finger into your tight hole. He’s gentle as he begins to finger fuck you, working you open at a snail's pace-

You think, as someone who time moves fast for, he really must be savoring every long moment of this. He wants to take his time with you, and for a fairy, that means something.

Mingyu’s lips are still wrapped around your nipple, and as he adds a second digit to your core, you think you might just combust.

“Gyu,” you whimper.

He hums in response.

“I’m close,” you tell him, beginning to wiggle your hips against his hand. “I’m so close-”

Mingyu’s palm finds your clit, and he finger fucks you harder, crooking his digits to reach a spot that has your toes curling.

“Oh my god-” you groan, closing your eyes and latching onto Mingyu’s hair as an anchor, keeping his face buried in your tits as he works you closer and closer to the edge-

One graze of his teeth across your nipple has you cumming on his fingers, and Mingyu releases his own sound of pleasure to echo the whimpers escaping your lips.

He’s got you pinned to the bed, there’s nowhere to go, nothing to do except take what he’s giving you.

He works you through your high, allowing you to feel every lick of pleasure as it courses through your entire body-

You’re a gasping mess at the end of it, and Mingyu gingerly removes his fingers from your pussy, pulling away from your chest to sit up on his knees, licking his digits clean as he inspects you carefully.

“Are you okay, my star?”

You shiver at the nickname, a whispered echo of your pleasure running through you.

“Yeah,” you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

“Was that good for you?” he asks, teasing his wet finger across your nipple and making you shiver again. “It was good for me.”

“It was so good,” you groan, shifting against the bed.

“Good.” Mingyu hooks his fingers in your boxers, tearing them down your legs.

You’re now completely bare for him, and you expect Mingyu to work on his jeans next, but he doesn’t. He lays down between your thighs, looking up at you as he peppers your skin with chaste kisses.

“Ready for more?” he questions.

You groan, and the groan turns into a laugh. “I guess I told you to do whatever you want to me,” you sigh, adjusting your legs so your feet are flat and your knees are bent, giving him better access to your pussy for what you know is about to come next.

“You did.” Mingyu’s breath is hot against your still pulsing core, and you grab at the duvet in preparation, knowing he’s about to completely rock your world for a second time.

Mingyu doesn’t say anything else, he continues to kiss up your thigh, and he doesn’t stop. When he reaches your core, he licks your clit gently, circling it.

You open your eyes, looking down at him to find his own lids are closed. He’s completely focused on pleasuring you, and as he pushes his tongue into your core, lapping at your slit- well, fuck, no thoughts are going through your mind.

You can only whimper, grabbing the duvet tighter, your toes curling deliciously as this man eats you out in a way that no man ever has.

He really is taking his time. It’s clear this isn’t just a duty or a ‘task’ he has to complete in order to fuck you, no, eating you out is as much his pleasure as it is yours, and somehow, that knowledge makes it even better.

You give yourself to the pleasure. There’s no anxiety, no racing thoughts, or pressures you’re imposing on yourself.

You know there’s not a time limit. Mingyu’s not eager to make you cum so he can fuck you, he’s simply enjoying the act of licking your pussy- so you simply enjoy it too.

You’re not keeping track of time, your focus is solely on the pleasure running through you, and the way it’s building.

Soon, you’re at the edge again, and you warn Mingyu, your thighs twitching around his head.

Mingyu groans in response, lips wrapping around your clit. A squeal escapes you, your chest heaving, back arching off the bed as your second orgasm slams into you.

This one is even more electric than the first, and it almost feels like you’re floating off the mattress- like you’re truly ascending to cloud nine, as if you - like Mingyu - have wings.

God, there’s not a feeling like it in the world, especially as Mingyu continues to suck your clit, working you through the most intense high of your entire life. Your legs are fully quaking around him now, your grip like a vice on the duvet.

Thank God you live in the middle of nowhere because you’re aware that you’re being loud.

Mingyu’s groaning too, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you pinned and in place for him to eat you through the pussy contracting pleasure convulsions that are threatening to overtake your entire body in an ecstasy you’ve never, ever experienced before.

The large man finally lets up, and you gasp, flopping back down against the bed. There are aftershocks of pleasure, and you jolt a little, goosebumps erupting on your flesh from the sensation.

You feel the bed shift, and you look from under heavy lids to see Mingyu standing at the foot of the mattress, finally taking off his jeans.

Fuck, he’s huge- maybe foreplay wasn’t so much of a want, as a necessity.

“You still want me?” Mingyu asks, joining you on the bed again, his breath hot against your throat as he grinds down against you, teasing his cock against your dripping pussy.

“Fuck, I need you,” you tell him.

Mingyu kisses you then, grabbing your hands and putting them above your head. He collects your wrists in one grip, and with his free hand, he grabs his cock, lining it up with your core.

“If it hurts-”

“You’ve made me cum twice,” you tell him, “I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say, my star,” he grins, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes the head of his cock into your tight, wet hole.

You groan desperately, struggling against his grip on your wrists, but Mingyu doesn’t let up. In fact, he tightens his hold on you, pushing his cock even deeper into your core.

The sounds you’re making are feral as he kisses you, his lips and tongue are hot against your own in the most delicious way.

You can feel your pussy stretching to accommodate for his girth, and when his hips are finally flush against your own, you think this might just be the most full you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

Mingyu breaks the kiss, panting and looking down at you. “You feel perfect,” he whispers.

“You feel perfect,” you counter, feeling a little dim with your repetition of his own works back to him, but also too fucked out to think of anything better.

He only grins, drawing his lips to yours. It’s a gentler kiss as he begins to fuck you, his motions slow so you can acclimatize to the massive cock that’s already rearranging your guts.

You get lost in him, and there’s a kind of safety in having your hands pinned down above your head. You can’t quite explain it- maybe it’s just a size kink? You can’t have a bondage kink, can you? Does Mingyu even know what bondage is? Do fairies watch porn?

You push the thoughts from your head, focusing on the cock that’s dragging against your sensitive inner walls.

Soon, you’re moaning loudly again, and Mingyu finally lets up on your wrists. “I kind of…” he swallows thickly, thrusts faltering, “I kind of want you to ride me when you cum.”

“You do?”

“I’ve… well, I know I’ve been a little rough-”

“You haven’t been rough,” you assure him.

“I just mean, the first two times you came, I did what I wanted, and I want you to be in control for this last one, don’t want to overstimulate you.”

It’s a soft idea, and you nod up at him. “I’ll ride you.”

“Good.” Mingyu kisses you gently, and then the two of you are adjusting.

He lays flat as you swing your leg over his hip, grabbing his cock to line it up with your core so you can slowly sink down on him.

Mingyu groans, his hands settling on your hips to help you be gentle as you come to a fully seated position on his cock.

“You look so perfect like this, my star,” he tells you, one free hand moving up to grab your breast, massaging it gently and pinching at your nipple.

“Think you can cum with me, Gyu?” you ask, beginning to bounce.

You watch Mingyu’s lips part in concentration, his gaze fixed on your chest. He’s clearly in a daze, and it’s adorable. “I’ll cum with you,” he whispers. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You’re quite handsome yourself,” you smile.

Mingyu’s ears turn pink first, and it’s so endearing to watch the massive man flush from a compliment as you’re riding his cock.

God, he is a perfect man, isn’t he?

“I think… I think I was made to be found by you,” Mingyu says, looking up at you with eyes full of adoration. “I don’t know what I’d do If I never met you.”

“Gyu,” you coo, slowing your thrusts. Mingyu sits up, allowing you to pull him to your chest, cradling him to your breast as your fingers stroke through his hair.

“I do love you,” he continues. “And… it’s okay if you don’t love me the same way yet. I know it’s fast, even for me, but… yeah.”

“It’s fast, but that’s okay. You don’t have to hide yourself from me,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head.

“You don’t have to hide from me either,” Mingyu promises.

He lays back down flat, and you move with him, your chests pressed together as you ride his cock, groaning into his ear.

Mingyu’s hands are warm on your hips, and he steadies you, beginning to thrust up to meet your movements.

You both release sounds of pleasure, and you can feel your hearts racing together in your chests as they remain pressed to each other.

You’re tired, but you’re also eager to cum again, so you push through, closing your eyes and focusing on the pleasure instead of the increasing burn in your thighs.

“Are you close?” Mingyu pants in your ear. “I’m close.”

His sounds are like magic, and they help drag you to join Mingyu on the edge. “I’m close,” you confirm, swallowing thickly.

“Can we cum together?”

“Yeah,” you whimper, muscles clenching in preparation.

Mingyu fucks up into you even harder, and you put all of your energy into carrying this out, into riding this man until you pass out from how good everything is about to feel.

He releases another grunt, and you press your lips to his own, which is all it takes for you to both fall over the edge together.

You feel like you’re flying again, it’s almost an out-of-body pleasure-fueled experience, but this time, Mingyu’s with you, and you know you’ll be safe with the man who knows how to navigate the skies.

He cradles you to his chest, keeping his cock buried as deep as it can go in your core. You’re both kissing each other desperately, shaking and contracting from orgasms that continue to surge through you. Your hearts are racing together, and you’re both trying to catch your breaths even in the midst of a passionate kiss.

Everything just feels so right, and natural.

It’s as if your body was made to do this, with Mingyu especially.

Soon, your orgasms are subsiding, and you’re simply kissing now.

Mingyu holds you close, not letting you go until he’s good and satisfied.

You take a deep breath, breaking the kiss to look down at him. “So…”

“So,” he grins.

“So… I guess this changes our arrangement a little?”

Mingyu laughs, holding you tighter. “Does this mean I don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse anymore?”

You find yourself chuckling too, and the contraction it causes of your pussy around Mingyu’s cock makes him groan desperately, his hand pushing on the small of your back.

“You don’t have to sleep in the dollhouse.”

“I meant it when I said I’d give up my wings for you,” Mingyu muses, turning serious as he looks up at you.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“The future-”

“Is something we can talk about later,” you assure him. “Right now, I just want to enjoy you.”

“I guess… I guess we can do that,” Mingyu concedes. His arms wrap tighter around you, securing you down against his chest. He tucks you under his chin, releasing a deep breath, and that’s where you fall asleep, completely content with your blue-collared, human-sized, fairy lover.

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🔮 preview. “I’m happy where I am… but, when you cum, I’ll let you warm up while I fuck you stupid.” Mingyu never used to swear. He used to call sex ‘making love’ and something about it had made you uncomfortable in some weird way- so your soft lover has taken to using profanity for your own benefit, and you can’t help the way your body reacts to the term ‘fuck you stupid.’

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, size kink, worship, Mingyu is a boobs guy, nipple play, fingering, pussy stretching, foreplay, multiple reader orgasms, hand job, shower sex, praise, dirty talk, etc… I pet names: (hers) my star. (his) Gyu.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.7k I teaser wc. 175

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s summer, and you’re more in love than ever. Mingyu’s made you rethink what it is to live in your cottage. He’s done everything in his power to make it your dream home, and his latest upgrade is a small rowboat that he’d handcrafted with the purpose of meandering around your pond.

You can’t stop smiling and giggling as Mingyu rows you around, the sunlight kissing his skin in the most beautiful way. He’s so gorgeous, and his soul is just as stunning.

Every day is a dream with him… but there are still things on your mind, things you need to discuss.

“Mingyu?” you ask, drawing his attention away from his haphazard rowing.

“Yes, my star?” he pauses to look at you, setting down the oars to give you his complete, and undivided attention.

“I’m just… I’m thinking.”

“That’s not always the best sign,” Mingyu teases. “Thinking about what?”

“Just… we’ve been together a while now, and, I guess I’m starting to look at the future more, and I’m not really sure how to envision it.”

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heathermason6060 · 3 months ago

Text

Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Stars in the Dark

Warnings/Mentions: Smut, unprotected p in v, emergency contraceptives, slight alcohol consumption, reader is strong (minor description)

Summary: You're a former farm hand at the Greene Farm. You swoon over the new hunter, and he notices.

Notes: This was one of the first requests I got and I'm so sorry it took me this long to put it out! I hope you're still around anon, and you enjoy.

It was an unusually cool day.

You sat on the front porch of the Greene house, watching as the strangers that were slowly becoming friends did their daily chores. Carol sat in the center of their camp, scrubbing clothes in a bucket next to Lori, who was hanging them up to dry. Andrea sat on the top of the RV, switching between her gun scope and her binoculars to observe the tree line. There was a man beside her, the one that was with Otis when he died, was his name Shawn? Shane?

It was hard to remember their names, there were so many of them.

But you didn't have trouble remembering Daryl’s name. Especially considering how often you would whimper it into your pillow at night.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the idea of him, your legs switching from being crossed at your ankles to your knees, the rocking chair beneath you swaying slightly.

Your eyes drifted to the man you'd been thinking of, watching as he walked back to the camp for lunch after spending the morning hunting. You'd been seeing more of him, especially after the whole incident with the walkers in the barn, something not even you had known about. You knew they were there, sure, but you had no idea the little girl they were looking for had been in there the whole time.

The Greene family had kept it from you for a while. You had gone to school with Maggie, Hershel's daughter, and she was able to get you a spring job working at her farm with the horses and cattle. They were even kind enough to let you have their spare bedroom downstairs near the back door. It was tiny, but it was free lodging, and you loved it.

That spring job turned into a summer job once the infection started. Hershel had done a pretty good job convincing you of his beliefs. You had little medical experience, mostly just patching up animals at the farm, especially the barn cat PeePoe, but you liked to believe Hershel knew what he was talking about. Even if it seemed a little farfetched. So, you kept their secret and minded your own business.

You were sort of glad Shane forced the whole thing to happen. The walkers in the barn were starting to really creep you out, especially with how much they began to rot over time.

The movement of two people sneaking around to the back of the house caught your eye and you saw Maggie and Glenn, something you'd grown accustomed to. She had a big smile, full of excitement and nervousness, and Glenn just looked thrilled to be there. You watched as they disappeared to the back workshop and felt envy bubble in your stomach.

The sound of that familiar gruff voice that you'd gotten really good at imagining at night startled you. You looked up and away from beside you, your mouth slightly open in surprise, not having heard him walk up on the porch.

“Hi?” You looked up at him, awkward and embarrassed from your earlier thoughts. You weren't used to seeing him so up close. He smelled like cigarettes and something else, something artificial, and when you saw him chewing something you realized it was the very faint scent of bubblegum.

“Patricia said you knew the shops in town. Can't find Glenn, and we need supplies for dinner tonight.” His eyes held little emotion, a bit of annoyance maybe. Annoyance at having to ask you, or annoyance at having to go into town instead of Glenn, you weren't sure.

“Yeah, I do.” You nodded slowly, trying to keep the filthy thoughts from your head as your eyes raked over his face and upper body, catching yourself and quickly looking back up at his face.

“Good. C'mon.” He didn't ask, he just slung his crossbow over his bloody ripped shirt, which you assumed was from the deer he had bagged that morning.

Patricia had mentioned to you in passing about wanting to have another group dinner that night, you didn't expect it to actually happen, given how awkward the last one had been at first. With the weather slowly fading into autumn and the crops dying from age, you figured it was necessary to get some supplies from town.

You didn't leave often. You didn't have a desire, or a need to, but the idea of being alone with Daryl had you almost skipping to his bike.

As much as you wanted to push Daryl against the wall of the corner store and kiss him till he passed out, you didn't feel like getting humiliated from rejection. You settled for just watching him as he moved, picking up cans and turning them over before stuffing them in his burlap potato sack.

The sight of his eyes flickering up over the aisle and landing right on yours snapped you out of your dirty daydream. You quickly looked down to your shelf, picking up a can of corn and pretending to be interested in the ingredients in it. Hmm, yes, Corn.

He eyed you through suspicious slits, having a hard time deciding between being concerned or annoyed.

Daryl didn't know much about you at all. He knew your name, he knew you were younger than Maggie but older than Beth and that you were a newer farmhand. The only people that ever talked about you never really spoke to him.

He did know that you were way too hot to be working on a farm shoveling horse shit. You belonged in a fuckin magazine, one of those that fashion ones Amy used to read back at their first camp in Atlanta. You were fit, you had to be for your job, what you looked like before all the labor-intensive work, he didn't know or care.

He'd never seen someone as hot as you in person. He couldn't even think of the words to describe you. You looked so out of place at that farm, it was like taking a supermodel and putting her in a gas station. He watched as you put food in your bag, trying not to get hard as his thoughts swiftly changed from admiring your beauty to imagining how you'd look when you came.

Daryl thought about that way too much already. He thought about it so much that he was confident he was spot on with the image of you he created in his mind. Alone in his far-off tent at night, not having to worry about getting caught, rubbing his dick raw to the thought of you naked, drooling and crying from pleasure under him.

“Okay, my bag’s full.” Your voice ripped him from his trance and he blinked a few times, realizing he'd been staring at the same can of peas for the past two minutes.

“Yeah. Alright.” He swept his arm across his shelf, knocking several cans into his bag and two on the floor. You jumped at the sound and he cursed, his brain still not working right with all the blood that went to his dick.

You peeked over the shelf to see two cans on the floor, one perfectly fine and the other surrounded in a gross pile of butter beans. No loss to you. Daryl snatched the can of diced tomatoes from the floor and put it in his bag, twisting it a few times before slinging it over the shoulder that didn't have the crossbow on it.

“How the hell are we gonna get these back?” You asked as you walked out the front door, trying not to fall head over heels when he stuck back to hold the door open for you. You thought he was being chivalrous, he just wanted to stare at your ass in those Bobbie Brooks as you walked to his bike.

“We'll figure it out.”

And you did, sort of, but it was incredibly awkward with a bag pressed between the two of you on the bike, and the other tied to your torso so it sat behind you. Thankfully, he drove thoughtfully slowly, and you were able to get back to the farm without incident.

You were happy to let the other women do the cooking, trying to pay attention to the rant Andrea was currently going on about how Lori loved her social norms.

The wind had grown a bit cooler, sending goosebumps over the back of your neck as the breeze blew through your hair.

“You ever cook?” Andrea said suddenly, a cautious edge to her voice as if she suddenly realized she had no idea how you felt about gender roles. “Or, like it, I mean?”

“Was more of an outdoor kind of girl.” You chuckled, leaning back in the plastic lawn chair around the fire you sat at.

Daryl was chopping wood, something you'd never been so interested in before. Andreas' conversation was getting real, real boring.

“Yeah. I liked fishing myself.” She grew silent after that, and you looked away from Daryl to see she had a far out look in her eyes.

“You okay?” You asked in a gentle voice, only earning a silent nod from her. You took that as your leave and gave her a comforting shoulder squeeze before heading inside. The sun would set in a few hours, and you wanted to change into warmer clothes before dinner.

You didn't expect to have Daryl sit beside you at dinner.

You didn't really expect him to come, let alone eat with the group. Last time he’d been stuck in the bed upstairs since he’d been shot by Andrea. You basically froze when you saw the seating arrangements.

It wasn't really his choice, honestly, everyone sat down so fast, the only two seats that were open were right beside each other. Looked like no one wanted to sit next to Shane. And from the look on his face, you didn't really want to either.

Relief flooded through you when Daryl sat down next to Shane. You took your seat beside Daryl, Andrea on your right. You smiled at Patricia in front of you, only getting a small one in return.

It wasn't as quiet or awkward as the last dinner. Spirits were a bit higher, although tense with the whole “prisoner in the barn” fiasco. You couldn't recall the name of the man that was currently chained up, but you did know Dale made a scene of fixing him a plate, much to Shane's objection.

You tried to distract yourself from their bickering by looking at Daryl. A quick bolt of subdued adrenaline coursed through you when you saw he was already looking at you. You looked away almost immediately out of reflex, and deciding against your better judgment, you looked back. He was still looking at you.

Daryl couldn't figure you out. If he had a bullet for how many times he caught you looking at him, he'd be able to kill every damn walker on earth.

It never even crossed his mind you were into him before that night. It seemed so farfetched, you were too fuckin pretty to be looking at him like that. Your features were so soft, even after all the work that had toughened your muscles, your face was still so…

Cute.

He didn't notice the tugging that had pulled at the corner of his mouth until it was a full-fledged smirk. He was about to look away when he realized how creepy he probably looked, staring down at you smirking without speaking, but the feeling of your knee bumping against his had his eyes locked to yours.

His smirk slowly faded, being replaced by a more serious expression, until he saw the soft smile on your lips.

Nah, she's just friendly. He found himself trying to explain away your actions, but a large part of him desperately wanted him to be wrong. Having such a sweet girl look up at him like that was uncharted territory, and his mind slowly drifted away to the idea of your uncharted territory. He would've snorted at the pun if not for the feel of your thigh pressing against his and staying there this time.

Neither of you had noticed, but the bickering had finally died down, and a different and lighter conversation was taking place.

Your silent interaction wasn't as private as it felt, the burn of Rick's eyes on his face had Daryl dragging his eyes to the leader of the group, holding so much cold annoyance towards the nosey man that it could've frozen hell.

Rick just grinned, happy to see at least some people weren't so miserable with how things were going and went back to picking at his plate with his fork, silently chuckling.

“Do you drink?” Your soft voice broke him from his thoughts, he looked back over to you, his expression softening when he saw you. He couldn't decide if he wanted to take you out back and fuck you in the grass like an animal, or take you to your bed and kiss every inch of your body.

“Sometimes.” He shrugged, his voice low and quiet amongst the chatter of the table. “Why?”

You shrugged in return, popping an apple slice in your mouth and crunching it before swallowing and speaking. “I found a bottle of wine today at the store. I don't really drink much anymore but wanted to find a reason to.”

Your open-ended words had him overthinking once again, over analyzing what you meant. Was he the reason to drink? Or did you have one already? Before he could leave you in more silence your thigh moved against his again, bringing his attention back to you.

“What're you askin’ me?” He needed to hear you clearly state your intentions, not wanting to humiliate himself by accepting a nonexistent request.

“If you'll join me.” Your voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and it took him a few seconds to process what you'd said.

He looked you over, his eyes narrowing as he searched your face for any sign of a trick. You smiled nervously, your eyes flickering to and fro, only settling on his eyes for a second a time. Something about you being unable to keep eye contact stirred something in him, something he was painfully unfamiliar with. He wanted to grab your chin and make you look up at him, make you speak up, make you tremble under his touch-

“You can say no.” He snapped out of it to see your smile had faded to fear of rejection.

“No. I want to.” He answered immediately, nodding and earning another smile from you.

You met him in the front field, holding your bundled up blanket with the wine bottle inside. You were originally going to bring glasses, but said fuck it, you could drink from the bottle. You did forget to bring a bottle opener, though, something Daryl was happy to help with.

He took the bottle from you and sat down on the blanket beside you, pulling a switchblade from his back pocket and beginning to work it into the cork.

“Hershel said something about moving you guys inside soon.” You commented as he blew a few chunks of broken cork from his blade.

“I'll pass.” He grunted, digging the blade back into the cork.

You looked away, your heart dropping at his words.

“Can't stop thinking about it.”

“Huh?”

“About winter.” You thought you might've just been imagining it, but you swore you saw his face drop in disappointment at your answer.

Finally, you heard the pop of the cork finally coming out, and he took the first swig, spitting out the few pieces of cork that had fallen in after he demolished the poor thing.

He handed it back to you and you took a deep swig, trying to get as much courage as possible. You didn't know how to act around Daryl. He was so unpredictable, nothing like the other men you'd crushed on before. They were all easy, quick to accept your subliminal hints.

But Daryl? You could tell him you wanted to suck his dick till he couldn't breathe, and he'd probably laugh, thinking you were just joking, and go off and hunt or whatever it was he did all day.

It was easy for your mind to wander in the silence. You handed the bottle back to Daryl as you slowly undressed him in your head, imagining him taking your clothes off, his lips all over your neck, switching between your different fantasies. Rough, violent and painful, sweet, slow and deep, or quick, needy and dirty. You wondered what he would be like, was he experienced? Would he be able to make you cum just with his fingers? Or was he the opposite? Either way you wanted him, so unreasonably bad, you'd never felt this way about a man before. If someone told you a witch put a lust spell on you strictly for him, you'd believe it in a heartbeat. You didn't even know his favorite color. Or what type of music he listened to.

“Shit, get down.” His hand on your chest pushing you to your back had your heart in your throat. You tilted your head back to see Maggie and Glenn, sneaking away once again. Daryl relaxed at the realization that it was just them and drew his hand away from you.

“Lucky them.” You grumbled, taking the bottle from him and taking a sip. You were happily buzzed at this point, eager to make conversation but not at the point where you'd make a fool of yourself.

“Hmm. Yeah.” He agreed, watching as they slipped behind the stables. “Lucky.”

With your newfound courage, you decided to test the waters in a way that you felt seemed completely unsuspecting and not suspicious at all.

“Must be nice to have someone like that to take your mind off things for a while.” You commented casually, your gaze now back at the stars.

“Wouldn't know.” His gruff reply gave you motivation to push on.

“Yeah, me neither.” You couldn't think of the words that wouldn't possibly spook him off. Little did you know, Daryl wasn't some cornered frightful animal, he was thinking of the same things and worse than you. He'd been looking at you, his chest rising and falling in short quick breaths, his eyes all over your body beside him.

“Those stars look better laying down.” He felt like an obviously desperate teenager after saying that, but when you immediately laid down on the blanket he smirked a bit. Maybe it wasn't such a stupid suggestion.

He took a deep sip of wine and looked over you, noticing you'd changed back into your jean shorts after dinner. It was odd, he thought, considering the chill in the air, but he wasn't complaining. The way he looked at your bare legs was akin to someone on a diet looking at a plate of fresh, hot salty fries. His mouth watered, not from the idea of fries, but from the idea of sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thighs so hard you'd be littered with bruises.

Daryl wanted to touch you so goddamn bad. But being him, he was too disgusted by the idea of getting the nerve to reach out and touch your thigh and having you pull away, shout at him, storm off and never talk to him again.

And you being you, you were too terrified at the idea of making the first move and getting a similar reaction.

So you stared up at the stars, forcing yourself to concentrate, before that last bit of wine spread through your body and gave you enough confidence to look at him.

A buzzed smile spread on your lips when you saw he was already looking at you. And not your face either, but your thighs, and to gauge his reaction you trailed your hand down your torso to casually rest at the bottom of your shorts. You toyed with it, a bit, pretending you had an itch under the fabric and slipping your fingers under the hem.

He looked at your face then.

“You look real good.” He blurted, and froze at his words, ready to get up and bolt if you reacted the wrong way.

“You look really pretty.” You responded without thinking, earning a look of confusion from him. “I mean, in a good way, like you could model in one of those underground fashion shows-” You cut yourself off before you could humiliate yourself further, but the grin on his face put you at ease. And made you a little tiny bit bolder.

Neither of you knew what to say. He suddenly grabbed the wine and took an exceptionally impressive sip, leaving the bottle half empty.

It was a few moments before either of you spoke again.

“What did you do before this?” You asked, trying to ease the tension enough to relax the both of you.

He snorted at that question, shaking his head and looking away from you. “Same as everyone else. Lived. Paid for food.”

You took that as the best answer you'd get from him and decided to use the boldness you'd earned from the alcohol.

“Did you have a girlfriend?”

He must've found your question amusing, because he snorted. “Psh. No. You got a boyfriend?”

You noticed his question was in the present tense, not past like yours. “No.”

He grunted and shifted in his spot so his forearms rested on his knees. He toyed with the grass for a bit, snapping off blades and picking them apart into little green confetti pieces.

Daryl gave up on talking. He looked down at you again, seeing you were looking at the stars again, but not really seeing them. With the wine induced confidence he wasn't sure if he was thankful for yet, he reached out for you, his fingertips ghosting your knee. His eyes flickered to your face, and when he saw the expression it held there, he decided he was very grateful for the wine.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your lips parted and your eyebrows a bit furrowed. It was funny, with that look you'd think he had slipped his hands in your shorts. And when his hand fully pressed down on your thigh you closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, your body giving a billion silent ‘finally, finally, yes, yes, yes’.

“Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for a while.” His gravelly voice sent chills through your entire body.

“I can't stop thinking about it.” You admitted.

“Yeah?” Your confession had him spinning, his hand now in the pocket of your shorts, two of his fingers dipping in to pull the two of you closer together.

You found it hard to speak, so you settled on a whiny and desperate ‘Uh-huh’.

He smirked down at you, his fingers back at your inner thigh. His touch was lazy, but deliberate, his rough fingers slipping up your thigh to the top of your shorts again. He ached to tease you, watch you whimper and squirm under you, but it was getting progressively harder. He glanced over his shoulder at the house, seeing all the windows dark besides Beth's bedroom. He then looked over the moonlit field, concerned for a moment about walkers, but when he saw the fence he felt all concern melt away.

Daryl's hand continued roaming over your body, relishing in each little whimper being pulled from your throat. The thought that he was doing this to you, it was him making you into this needy little mess, it gave him a new sense of pride he hadn't felt in a long time.

“You look real damn good.” He repeated his earlier compliment. The way you looked laying down beside him, your long sleeve shirt pushed up around your stomach, your chest rising and falling sharply, had his heart racing despite the buzz he had going on.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely a whisper, sending a shiver through him at the sound of it. Your body arched into his touch, desperate to have his hand move from your stomach either up or down.

“You feel real damn good too.” He muttered, loving the way your body was responding to his touch.

“God. So do you.” You breathed out a long exhale, looking up at him like he was the prettiest thing above you, not the stars.

“Yeah?” His voice had taken on a higher pitch, a bit teasing, making you involuntarily whimper at the sound of it. He suddenly took it up ten notches, sliding his hand up your shirt to your breast. You had to bite back the moan that you knew would either call walkers or humans if you made it. While he played with your nipple, rougher than you expected, his other hand popped open the button on your shorts.

You didn't have time to be impressed before his hand shoved its way through your tight shorts to your panties, catching you completely off guard with how suddenly forward it was. A strangled groan and the sight of your eyes squeezing shut had him teasing you again. “S’been a while, huh?”

You nodded frantically, biting down hard on your bottom lip. Your legs trembled, moving apart so he could move his hand easier. He eagerly took advantage of the new space and moved his fingers through the sides of your panties, beelining for your clit. You weren't sure if it was experience, or if he just wasn't stupid, but the way he rubbed your embarrassingly slick clit had your head reeling.

“You want me to take care of this little ache you got goin’ on?” The fact his southern drawl had gotten much stronger was almost enough to make you cum. Coupled with the dirty words he was saying, which was something you didn't expect from Daryl at all, your face burned with embarrassment.

“Please.” You choked out, your hands gripping onto the blanket under you, having no idea what to do with your hands.

He put more weight on his hands as he shuffled so close that he was basically on top of you. His middle finger slid into you, and the feigned cockiness quickly left his body when he felt you. He didn't know if he'd last more than ten seconds inside you. You were unbearably hot and wet. And just by the way you squeezed his finger, he couldn't imagine how that would feel on something bigger like his dick.

Your worries were right, your orgasm came so fast you were humiliated. He'd barely curled his fingers inside you a few times, something you had to teach him through your haze, and you groaned, low and guttural.

His eyes widened when he realized what was happening, your orgasm catching him off guard. He took his hand that was busy pinching your incredibly sore nipples and clamped it firmly over your mouth, muffling your cries, even though they were enough to give him enough material to jerk his dick to for months.

He'd need to find somewhere he could let you scream in peace. But for now, he'd have you right here, keep his hand over your mouth and fuck you into the grass.

Daryl watched you come undone under his fingers like it would be the last time he'd ever see it. Memorizing the way your hips rolled up into his hand, the way they pulled away when you arched your back. The way your eyebrows pulled tightly together, then the way they relaxed as you rode out your high, your eyes fluttering like they couldn't decide on opening or staying closed.

“Jesus Christ woman.” He breathed, his eyes dark and wild, like he'd just watched a miracle being performed in front of him. To Daryl it was. He felt an unbridled sense of satisfaction knowing he was the one who did that to you.

You relaxed fully, your hips pulling away from his rough fingers and thumb, which were still stroking your clit.

“Ain't done with you yet.” He pulled his hand from your shorts, leaving a trail of shimmering wetness on your stomach.

“God. You're so pretty.” You said breathlessly, looking up at him again with that damn look on your face as you struggled to sit up to take your clothes off.

“You think I'm pretty? Yeah? C'mon then, show me.” He grabbed your hands, bringing them to his chest, forcing you to touch him. Your mind spun, still recovering from the first orgasm you'd had in god knows how long, trying to take over control as he used your hands to unbutton his plaid button up, not caring if you saw him shirtless because of how dark it was. The red one with the sleeves torn off, it was your favorite. It was almost a loss to see him remove it, that was until he brought your hands back to touch his chest again.

You decided you liked his direction, and let him move your hands down his chest to his jeans. Your hands fumbled with his belt buckle, messing up one too many times. He unbuckled it for you, deciding he was too impatient to wait on you, undoing his jeans and tugging them down just enough to get his cock out.

When he finally tugged it out you tried your best to memorize every single detail about it. The glint of the moon on the bead of precum at the slit, the way the tip was darker than the pale base, the way his unruly pubes looked exactly like you'd imagined.

Your hands reached out to grab the length of his cock and he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tipping back as he muttered out a string of curses you couldn't understand through his thick accent.

He was so fucking glad he jerked off in his tent before he came out to meet you. Or else just that touch alone would've had him busting in your hands.

The sound of him spitting into his hand made your core do that flip and you let out a shaky breath, watching as he rubbed his palm over the tip of his cock.

He said nothing as he manhandled you, pushing your shorts right down your thighs, ignoring your little sound of surprise. He pulled you into his lap, and the way he took full control of your body like you were a puppet had you growing wetter than you thought possible. He moved you like you weighed nothing, one hand holding your side in a firm grip to keep you hovering over his dick. He was going to spit again, but you sank down against him and he felt how wet you were, he sputtered out a groan and swallowed his spit.

He reached down between you and grabbed his dick, trying to guide it to the right spot in the confusion of his lust clouded brain and how wet and hot everything felt. You grabbed his hand and aimed it right at your soaking entrance, and sank your hips down.

His head barely nudged against your entrance before it slid away, up through your lips and bumping your sensitive clit roughly. You hissed at the feeling and he grunted in irritation.

“Here-” You pulled back from him, which he objected to for a split second, the idea of you separating from him not an option he wanted to consider. But when you started laying down on your back he moved forward on top of you, grabbing your thigh to hike it up over his waist.

The new angle made things much easier, although your tightness still proved to be a slight inconvenience. You cursed yourself for being so sexually inactive, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt the burn of his tip slowly pushing inside you.

His mouth found your neck as he lowered his body flat on yours, his weight nearly crushing your chest under his. He kissed your neck as he felt the resistance finally give, his head popping inside you and the rest of his dick pushing forward easier.

You still saw stars when you closed your eyes, your body freezing from the mind numbing pleasure at the feeling of him filling you in a way you'd either never experienced, or had long forgotten. When the burn of the intrusion finally gave away and melted into complete bliss you relaxed under him, your hips angling up to drive him deeper.

Daryl groaned in your neck, the sound stuttered as he fought to gain his bearings. His hand tugging his dick to the thought of you was something he never thought he'd top. The feeling of you wrapped around it was something he knew he'd never top.

The tension between you broke and he finally began moving, dragging his dick out painfully slowly before plunging it back in, fitting like the last piece of a puzzle he'd been working on his whole life.

He let out a low groan, sinking his teeth into the meat of your neck and bringing a high pitched cry from your mouth.

“Nuh-uh.” He panted, his hips picking up a faster pace as he pulled away from your neck. “You gotta be quiet, sweetheart.”

“Mhmm!” You clenched your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to look at him above you. His eyes dark, his mouth open as he breathed heavily, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. The sight had you arching your back, making him groan at the feeling of you squeezing and pulling on his dick. He really did look so fucking pretty.

Daryl looked down at you, eyes tracing over your face twisted in pleasure, and he felt you grow wetter around him. The way your body responded to him had him trembling. He couldn't get enough of you. He needed more. He grabbed your hips, his grip firm enough to keep you in place as he sped up.

The quickening of his rough thrusts had your head lolling to the side, each thrust knocking a breathless moan from your lips. They were quiet, to be heard by him alone, which was more than enough for him. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he fought to keep his composure, the last bit of him that he had under control worried about possibly hurting you.

But that concern quickly went out the window when you started begging.

“Please.” Your words bubbled from your chest, hot and desperate. “Please!”

“Please what?” He hissed, his brows furrowed in confusion as he fucked deep into you. “Use your words, tell me whatcha want. I'll give it to you.”

“More, please, I don't know.” You babbled under him, trying your best to stay quiet. “Harder, more, I don't-”

He moved on you, suddenly putting all the weight of his upper body into his grip on your hips, right before he started fucking you so hard you lost the ability to speak.

Each thrust sent a bolt of sharp and deep pleasure through your pussy, up your body and ending with a tingle on your scalp. You couldn't moan, even if you wanted to, his movements were so rough it felt like each snap of his hips knocked the air from your lungs. You knew there'd be a deep imprint of your ass in the dirt tomorrow from how much weight he was boring down on you, and the sensation of that alone made your head spin.

Your sharp gasps that were in sync with his thrusts neared a dangerous volume, and he slowed his hips, using the opportunity to catch his breath.

“Ya gotta be quiet. M’serious.” He whispered, his thumbs pressing down on the sides of your stomach when your whimpers had yet to cease. “Gonna have to stop.”

You spewed out a soft stream of no’s, your hands wrapping around his wrists as if you had the strength to keep him there. “I will, sorry.”

He nodded in response and carried back on with quicker thrusts, his mouth open as he sucked in shaky breaths. Daryl couldn't take his eyes off you. He wished he had met you a year ago, before all this happened, so he could fuck you without worrying about walkers, getting caught, he wanted desperately to hear every sound he earned from you. He was the reason you were a broken mess; he deserved to hear and have all of you.

Your right hand let go of his wrist to snake under his stomach, your flat fingers rubbing firm massages on your greedy clit. The sight had a choked moan sounding from his throat and you whined in response, the sound sending long bolts of pleasure through your core.

“Daryl, so close.” You whispered, your toes curling from their spot at the base of his spine.

He understood your meaning and set a steadier pace, not too rough or fast, but deep and steady enough to guarantee your final orgasm, since his first with you was approaching.

Daryl wasn't stupid, he meant to pull out, truly, but when you came and squeezed his cock like a fist, he couldn't help it. His body trembled and he choked, gasping and whimpering as he came with you.

Your jaw dropped and you saw more than stars, you saw the whole damn galaxy. Daryl quickly pressed his hand over your mouth to muffle your obscene moans, his hips stuttering as he finished the last drop in his orgasm.

“My God. My God. Oh my God.” You panted after he removed his hand, your eyes bleary and wet, your body vibrating with exhausted shakes as your ecstasy slowly faded away. Your hands and feet felt cold and numb, and when he pulled away it felt like someone had taken something from you. You whimpered in a soft objection as his wrist left your grip.

“Goddamn.” He sat back to stuff his raw dick back in his jeans, twitching when he felt the uncomfortable friction from his boxers, it was too stimulating.

It took you some time to put your clothes back on, when you were finally dressed you were too exhausted to do anything but lay there on the blanket and catch your breath.

Neither of you spoke for a while, sitting in silence to regain your bearings and enjoy the final moments of buzz from sex. As soon as he came down from his high, he grabbed the abandoned bottle of wine and drank nearly the rest of it.

“I'm gonna go shower.” You breathed, sitting upright to find your shoes and put them back on.

“G’night.” He muttered between swigs.

“Goodnight Daryl. That was amazing.” You thanked him with a quick kiss that seemed to startle him.

He sucked his teeth in embarrassment, waving you off as if to say, ‘it's nothing'. He watched you walk away, scratching the backs of your arms, itching from the grass. Daryl turned back to the woods and finished the bottle before chucking it into the field, eventually leaving for his tent, bringing your blanket with him.

You took the best bath you could manage with your supplies; it wasn't as satisfying as a hot shower with your old fancy soaps and shampoos, but you were too exhausted to do more than just clean yourself. You barely even wrapped your hair with a towel before tripping into your room and falling on your bed.

You yelped when you felt something hard like at your back and you leaned up on your elbow to see a small box with a note.

From Lori. Use these next time. -Maggie

You sighed in relief when you saw it was emergency contraceptives and a pack of condoms, despite the pit in your stomach from knowing Maggie had seen you. It was something you should have already planned for yourself, the condoms, but it was hard to think straight when you were horny over Daryl Dixon.

SHANE JUMPSCAPRE

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams

970 notes · View notes

calmcoldevening · 10 months ago

Text

Slashers x child!reader [PLATONIC]

Characters: Thomas Hewitt, brothers Sinclair, Mark Hoffman

Tw: mention of murdering, violence, drinking

Thomas Hewitt

• You came to the Hewitts almost as a baby, you were the child of one of the victims. Surprisingly, you were left behind. Or rather, Luda stood up for it, she couldn't let them kill such a baby. Besides, she was always ready to take a new child under her wing again if he needed it.

• Thomas was a little confused, he couldn't figure out if he liked you or not. In general, he always wanted a family and children, but he knew that he would not have it because of his appearance and lifestyle. And so you came into his life.

• At first, he will be very hesitant about spending time with you in principle. He's just afraid of breaking you with your fragile baby bones. Besides, Thomas is not sure how to react to your frequent screams and tantrums, it pisses him off a little.

• Over time, he will really get used to you. A man will hold you in his arms most of the time if he is not busy working in the basement. Thomas will hold you tightly to his chest, clutching the diapers you were wrapped in, and looking down at you with warmth and love.

• Even if you screamed a lot when you saw Thomas's face, you always calmed down. It warmed his soul very much.

• The only problem was the food, because you were obviously very small and had to be breastfeed. Fortunately, there was enough dry mix in that victim's bag for the first time. Then Hoyt had to drive around the city.

• Thomas was very protective of you, always watching over you and taking care of you. You literally didn't get off his hands, constantly clinging to his clothes and long hair. He didn't mind. A man often kissed you on the forehead, gently stroking your tiny cheeks with his big hand. He loved hugging you so much and he was glad that you liked it too. Thomas's hands were carefully dressing you and washing your fragile little body. He never hurt you, not in any way.

• Thomas made a baby cot for you, which was in his room. Although you often liked to sleep with him. At such moments, you would unsteadily stand on your baby legs and stretch out your arms in his direction. The man's heart sank. He gently took you out of the cradle and put you next to him, hugging you protectively. You cooed and smiled as you fell asleep in comfort.

• Thomas was very happy about your first steps. It was difficult and slow, but he patiently sat on the floor two meters away from you and waited, arms outstretched in an embrace for you. When you finally found some kind of balance, you walked slowly towards him, giggling happily. You hugged him tightly. The man almost cried, watching the formation of his baby.

• He was looking forward to your first words, hoping that you would actually talk, unlike him. At first it was a strange babble of children. Thomas was almost sure that you would call Luda mom, even though the thought of it hurt him. When you said the awkward 'Dada', he started crying. Thomas hugged you tightly to him, kissing your baby face and body. God, you were so sweet, so precious. He felt such a pleasant warmth in his chest when you called him daddy, your daddy. Thomas thought he would die of happiness on the spot. Now you were his little ray of light, his child.

Brothers Sinclair

• You were the victim's child. Lester found you in the backseat of the car. He awkwardly picked you up and pulled you out of the car. He was the youngest brother in the family, so he understood absolutely nothing about children, he understood at most that what needed to be taken care of, for example, like a dog.

• Lester brought you to the Sinclair house. Vincent was in the workshop, and Bo was sitting on the couch, with his feet on a small table in front of the sofa, and enjoying drinking beer. The appearance of Lester, and even with a child, greatly strained him. Really, what should he do with such a baby? You didn't look more than five months old. Considering his childhood, Bo hated children, although he could take some care, after all, he participated in Lester's upbringing, one way or another. And it was still quite a big shock for him. There wasn't a single woman in town who could tell them what to do with you, the men were confused. When you woke up, you started screaming and crying. You were scared that your mom wasn't there. Rude men terrified you even more. I wanted to hide somewhere, but you couldn't do anything.

• The situation only improved when Vincent arrived. He was the most gentle and understanding of all the brothers. Vincent grabbed you out of Bo's rough hands with a little alarm, hugging you to him and stroking your head. Bo just rolled his eyes and went into the kitchen. You snuggled up to Vincent, feeling safe at last. You weren't crying anymore, but you were whimpering softly against his chest. You were scared and hungry. You clutched a man's clothes in your little fists, wanting to be comforted and cared for.

• Vincent, like the others, didn't know much about children. But unlike his brothers, Vincent was naturally quite sensitive and kind, he could not leave the child to these jerks. The man pressed you against his warm sweater, giving you peace of mind. He gently stroked your little body, checking for wounds or damage. Your diaper was full. Not the most pleasant part. Maybe you were really too scared. Vincent asked Lester to go back to that car and bring everything there that could be useful for the child. There was a whole bag of toys and baby food, as well as enough diapers and some clothes.

• Vincent immediately bathed you and gently changed your diaper and clothes. Then he fed you from a bottle. It was a little awkward, but he liked to see that you finally felt calmer. You were lying in his arms, making baby noises and greedily swallowing milk. Your eyes were red and swollen from crying. The man hugged you protectively, stroking your little tummy.

• In total, Vincent took care of you. He fed you, dressed you, and bathed you. Lester used to play with you a lot. Bo didn't pay much attention to you, he just went to the city to buy children's things.

• As you grew up, you started spending more time in Vincent's basement. You saw him without a mask and so gently grabbed his scarred cheeks with your soft baby hands, it made him cry. He now had a small cot in his workshop with lots of pillows and blankets. This is where you played while he was working. A man made you wax toys that you really liked. He even taught you how to sculpt wax yourself. Now you had your own little collection of wax ducks. You called Vincent Dad. When you did it the first time, he cried, hugging you tightly to him. Although Bo is sometimes very jealous of your brother, because Bo is just an uncle to you.

• You've become very friendly with their dog, Jesse. Jesse always protects you from the next visitors to the city.

• They tried to pick you up a couple of times. Once it was a married couple. The woman held you tightly in her arms, saying that these people in the city are monsters, and that she will become your mother and take care of you. You threw a tantrum asking Dad to come over. The couple almost ran out of town until Bo shot them in the back of the head. Vincent pulled you out of the dead woman's tight grip and held you close, stroking your hair. You cried and squeezed his neck, asking Dad not to leave you anymore.

• In general, you are a child who grew up in cruelty, but the Sinclairs themselves never raised a hand against you. You were cared for and loved. Bo especially loved giving you a lot of gifts. So you've grown up to be a mentally healthy child with them.

Mark Hoffman

• You turned out to be the child of his dead sister. At first, it even hurt a man to look at you because you looked so damn much like your mother. But he understood the responsibility. Mark realized that you are the only thing he has left of his sister. Besides, you didn't have any relatives anymore, and the man didn't want to take you to the orphanage. So he took custody of you.

• It was difficult. Mark was already tired with his job, so taking care of the child only added to his stress. But he tried. For you. For his sister's sake.

• When you were still young enough, a man often left you alone at home, even though he understood that it was unsafe. At that moment, his depression reached its peak, and he simply did not see any other way out. He started drinking. The man spent almost every evening at the bar, getting drunk to unconsciousness. It was after midnight when he returned home. Mark came into the apartment, heading to his bedroom, and your face greeted him. Your chubby baby cheeks were red and wet with tears, but as soon as you saw Mark, a slight smile blossomed on your face. You were already standing freely in your cradle, so when the man entered the room, you desperately stretched out your arms to him, muttering an inarticulate 'dada'. It broke a man's heart. In an instant, the intoxication was gone, and his whole being was filled with a vile sense of guilt. You were afraid to be alone, afraid of being abandoned again, and he was so brazenly leaving you alone in an empty dark apartment. But Mark couldn't help himself, he was in pain too. And so it is almost every day.

• When you went to kindergarten, he often picked you up later than everyone else. Fortunately, your teacher was a good woman and spent time with you personally, playing together. You were a smart and funny kid, but you still had trouble speaking, you didn't speak. Perhaps the fact that your 'dad' never responded to your attempts to talk to him because of your abilities influenced you.

• One day Mark got off work a little early, hoping to pick you up. He was standing in the hallway in front of your kindergarten room, his hand on the door handle. He saw you laughing while playing with the tutor in the playroom. You threw your arms around her neck and joyfully shouted "Mommy!". It broke Mark's heart. He was such a bad father, such a bad guardian. You drove home in silence this evening. Already at home, you didn't understand why Mark was so sad. You tried to hug him or ask for his hands, but the man just looked away. When he put you to bed, he knelt in front of your bed. The man took your little palms in his hands, kissing them gently. Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

"She's not your mommy... I know I made a mistake, but she's not your mom. Please.. don't do that anymore. I'll get better. I'm really going to get better. I treated you badly, I understand, but.. But I can't help myself. I miss her too, your mom.. the real mom..."

• You didn't quite understand what he was saying, but you leaned closer and put your arms around his neck. Mark hugged you convulsively, pulling you tightly to him and burying his nose in your hair.

• It got a lot better after that. Mark tried to drink less and spend more time with you. He took you to the park, amusement park, cinema and cafe. Now he knew the names of the characters in your favorite cartoons and bought you toys with them. The man bought you a lot of sweets and just treated you gently.

• "I want a balloon... Daddy!" Mark looked down at you and a pleased smile spread across his face when you first called him that. His chest was filled with warmth. He found a reason to keep living.

#slashers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x reader #the leatherface #child!reader #vincent sinclair x you #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair house of wax #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #mark hoffman x you #mark hoffman saw #mark hoffman x reader

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clockwayswrites · 2 months ago

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Cozytober Day 3: Hot Chocolate

masterpost

“You just had to make a mess on your way, didn’t you?” Jason asked as he stepped over Danny’s shed clothing.

“Yes,” Danny said, just to be cheeky.

He could be cheeky with Jason. Jason might huff and puff or snark back, but it was always in good fun with each other. Somethings were off limits, but they’d both made a deal to be honest about what those were. So far it had worked out.

Jason sighed. “Leave me to clean up your mess after you, carry you around, make you hot chocolate…”

“Hot chocolate?” Danny asked, sitting up in Jason’s arms. Jason’s hot chocolate was a thing of the divine.

“Mhum,” Jason agreed with a hum as he dropped Danny carefully onto the couch.

Danny let himself lay there like a dead fish as he tried to give Jason his best puppy dog eyes.

“Put those eyes away,” Jason said with a chuckle. He leaned down and pressed a kiss right between Danny’s eyes. “I already said I’d make it. Do you want the works?”

“Yes,” Danny said. He shifted a little on the couch so that he could still watch Jason as he moved over to the kitchen area of the open plan space. “Your day?”

“Oh. It was okay,” Jason said as he gathered what he needed and put a pot on the stove. “I think that we’re finally making some real progress on the plans for the affordable housing. There’s a place in German that does a lot of what we want and need in their prefab walls. Obviously shipping that far would make it cost prohibitive, but they seem interested in maybe setting up a workshop here as long as Gotham helps with the initial costs. It might be a good deal in the end for both them and the city.”

“That’s great!” Danny knew how hard Jason had been working at this project, and how many times there had been insurmountable seeming roadblocks.

“It really is. And a new industry means new jobs. We might be able to tie it in with the workforce alternative we’ve got started with the court system too. I might also be counting my chickens before they hatch but…”

“Hope.”

“Yeah, but hope,” Jason agreed softly.

“Proud of you,” Danny said.

He could see Jason’s ears flush all he way from the couch. Danny tried to tell Jason he was as proud of him as often a he could, both because of the cute response but because Danny didn’t think Jason knew how good he was.

“Nothings don’t yet,” Jason said.

“Proud. Of. You,” Danny said with pointed enunciation.

Jason muttered an adorable grumble as he fussed with breaking up the real chocolate bar that he used in the hot chocolate. Danny closed his eyes and just listened to Jason moving around, out of words the moment. One of the reasons he liked being at Jason’s more than his tiny shoe box was the noise of someone else moving around him.

“Up we go, boo,” Jason urged softly some time later.

Danny cracked a wide yawn and used the moment of swinging his legs off the couch to get himself somewhat sitting up. Jason slotted into place beside Danny and helped prop him up before he tipped back over again. Danny happily burrowed in against Jason’s broad shoulder.

“Eyes open,” Jason said.

Resisting a grumble, Danny opened his eyes and took the large mug in front of his face. He cradled it for a moment, just enjoying the warmth, before he took a long, slow sip. The richness of chocolate and warmth of spice bloomed over his tongue. Danny let out a happy sigh.

“The best.”

Jason chuckled. “You just like me for my hot chocolate.”

“Lies. Also have a very nice co—”

“Danny!” Jason admonished between a bout of startled laughter.

Danny grinned to himself, proud as always to make Jason laugh like that, free and bright. He rewarded himself with another sip of his drink.

#dp x dc #dead on main #danny/jason #I am indeed ill #but that's not a bad place to be for cozytober at least!#cozydead

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so-very-small · 3 months ago

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brought to you by my current flare, i’m thinking about chronic illness/disabilities in tandem with g/t

a pharmacist who discovers borrowers, then makes it their life mission to research and craft size-appropriate medicine for them. tiny tiny pills, carefully calculated doses. all the tinies in town know if they have health issues, they just gotta visit the pharmacy late at night

a borrower who lives in a workshop, spending their days carefully watching the humans craft, learning all they can. the borrower puts this to use by crafting and carving mobility aids and accessibility devices for their community

a tiny with such severe vertigo and nausea that they can’t be held by their giant - the motion and warmth makes them sicker. so the giant has a large cooling pillow set up for them, where they can rest undisturbed, perched right on the couch so they can watch movies all day together

borrowers with chronic pain, who can’t climb about the giant’s house like they used to. their borrower friends coming together to build some pulley elevators, clear out a spot in the kitchen walls so they don’t have to travel far for food. on days where even that is too much, their borrower friends bring them food and supplies

a fairy amputee, missing both wings. their community rallying around them - they’ll give them flights here and there, help them gather supplies they can’t reach. maybe one of their friends even makes them a glider, an accessibility device so they can fly with their friends

a giant with chronic fatigue, spending most of their time resting in bed. the tinies love them, and they’ll all pile on the pillow or the giant’s chest to keep them company on bad days

a borrower who does NOT talk to the giant, except for popping their head out the wall every morning to remind the giant to take their meds

i could honestly go all day. i LOVE chronic illness/disabilities in g/t

#g/t #giant tiny #i feeeeeel miserable #my illnesses r off the charts rn

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hometoursandotherstuff · 3 months ago

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Okay, guys, this is weird. It's clearly a red barn, but it has a castle turret (ok, it's a silo, but it's like a barn castle). This is not a barndominium, it's a bastle. Built in 1995 in Castlewood, SD, it has 6bds, 5ba, and outbuildings. The house is 15,000sq.ft, and comes out to only $29/sq.ft. at $430K. I was not expecting the interior- I was expecting rustic. Check it out.

Very plain, unassuming entrance. Cheap Home Depot Door.

And, then, bam! Gray brick with a fireplace, stairs, walls with interior windows, and balconies. Where the hell am I?

The other side of the great room has plain white walls, a big open balcony, and what looks like brick walls set into the railing specifically for the display of heads. I also see brick columns, beams and a brick wall on the far end above, plus stairs to a lower level. So much going on.

Basically, where there's a railing, there's just an open space for a game room, TV room, etc.

Oh, wow, from this view, there's a marble wall. I have never seen windows w/faux marble shutters, notice the barn doors, as well.

One must wonder who designed this masterpiece. It sure is complex. On the right it looks like 3 steps going up to what, a window and small hallway? There's also a door on the right, and door above.

Here's a view from the balcony area. I guess we can also call it a mezzanine.

Back downstairs, we're in the kitchen. I'm not impressed. Don't like the cabinets or the layout.

Then, here's a way oversized dining room. Note the little shelf above- it has a tiny railing.

I'm gonna say that this is a giant family room off the dining room, and it took me a minute to realize that the "island" in the middle is a hot tub.

So, this must've been a game room. Note the rectangular decorative wall by the pool table.

Then over here there's a TV room that looks like it was decorated by Meemaw and Papaw. I have to say that I hate the furniture- it doesn't go with the funkiness of the house.

It looks like there are patterns on the walls, like wheat stalks going up the stairs.

Wallpaper or some kind of decorative panels up here. There's so much space.

Here's a dark bedroom. The ceiling and walls are so weird.

This large bedroom looks like it's in the silo/turret.

The shape of the ceiling up here is interesting. I don't know what this is- maybe some kind of storage area.

There's a 2 car garage with a large attached barn.

Plus, another very large building attached to the barn.

It's some sort of workshop.

The white building is a whole 'nother house w/3bds, 1ba. Remember, it's only $29 per sq. ft., so it's a lot for the money.

And, this L-shaped building is another huge barn/work space. This could be someone's empire.

Wow, it's big.

2.84 acres of land.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/45849-184th-St-Castlewood-SD-57223/2075595228_zpid/

#unusual homes #unique homes #houses #house tours #home tour

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jennifer-jeong · 3 months ago

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haiii!! could I put in a request for boothill x an alcoholic engineer reader who’s personality takes a complete 180 when drunk? Like when sober they’re really quiet and a total introvert but when drunk they’re basically a party animal/super hype(the reason why they drink so much is because it helps them forget about their life problems like taxes and student loan debt, if I had to compare the reader’s personality to a character I’d say hiroi kikuri from bocchi the rock) but they’re like crazy smart when it comes to machines and stuff and even fixes up boothill from time to time

headcanons or a small fic is fine^^

HII I’M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I’ve just been out of the groove of writing for a bit but your request is so cute and I wanted to take a shot at it. Thank you for your request and I hope you like it!

Fluff + Suggestive | Boothill x GN!Reader A Few Drinks

CONTENT Fluff, suggestive, him flirting with you, you flirting with him, getting handsy, alcohol consumption, pet name usage, no reader pronouns used, CHARACTERS ARE 18+

WORD COUNT: 1227

It was a regular Friday afternoon in your personal workshop situated in your home on a planet not far off from Penacony and easily accessible via space anchors. The planet was mostly made up of plains, your house sat near a pond and was surrounded by grass and your tiny gardens that you filled with flowers and succulents. You were an excellent engineer working both for corporations as well as taking on smaller private contracts/projects occasionally. You were currently working on a specific cyborg’s finger joint, putting the finishing touches on the cybernetics before he came to have it attached to his robotic body.

You heard a familiar clicking of boots against the sidewalk to your open workshop door before an equally familiar greeting from the cyborg cowboy.

“Heya sweetheart, how ya been? Hows my dumb fudging finger treatin ya?” he chirped, his voice slightly grainy and robotic due to a lack of organic vocal chords.

You swivel around in your chair, giving him a small smile. “Your pinky was pretty messed up but I managed,” you replied quietly, a little anxious talking to the -handsome- man you knew killed people on the daily.

“Ah, ya always fix me up fine and dandy, I knew you’d be able to help,” he said as he walked towards your workbench.

You gave him a small chuckle at the praise and turned around to grab the fixed finger. “Thanks… now just have a seat on the-” you were cut off by turning slightly and being met with his face awfully close to yours. He had leaned over your shoulder to take a closer look at your work, his hands held behind his back.

Your eyes widened as you froze for a moment, unintentionally staring at him before looking away. He was looking at your work but when you turned away he took the opportunity to scan over your flustered self, grinning slightly at how cute you were.

You always treated him so sweetly, disregarding what he did for work because you knew about his past. How could he not find you adorable?

He pulled away to walk towards the table that doubled as an operating table when he or your other clients needed bigger fixes.

“Here?” he says knowingly.

You nod quickly before grabbing a few tools and setting up to attach the part back to his synthetic nervous system.

It was a painful few minutes of him watching you intently as you worked. He was sitting up, leaning back on his right hand, legs spread as he got comfy. His left hand was propped up into a sleeve to keep it still as you worked on it. You tried hard to not look up at him despite knowing he was staring down at you the entire time, probably with that teasing grin he always wore around you.

Once you were done and he finished paying you (with a generous tip no less), he suddenly wondered what you’d be doing since the work week just ended.

“So, whadda ya doin after closin’ up shop today? Ya ever go out for Friday happy hour?”

You whipped your head around to him at the mention of drinking before looking down at the ground, hoping you didn’t seem too eager to talk about alcohol.

“Y-yeah, I go every weekend,” you replied.

He raised an eyebrow and chuckled, “really? Ya didn’t really strike me as the drinkin’ type darlin’.”

You swallowed at his use of pet name.

“Yeah… it helps me get my mind off work and shit,” you shared with him, figuring it was fine to tell him about it since you already started to get to know each other pretty well during his visits. It was hard to explain, but you trusted him.

“Huh… Well, let’s fudgin’ go then!” He says, jumping off the table. “Lemme know when ya ready darlin”.”

“W-whoa there darlin’” Boothill says for the nth time after you two got to a vintage looking club in the city. You were stumbling a bit as he tried to prevent you from knocking anything over or getting yourself hurt. You kept bumping into him, grabbing onto his arms or his chest to stabilize yourself.

It was your turn to fluster the man.

After all the times he’d made you shy and bashful, him feeling your hands all over him in this context and not during some sort of repair procedure was really setting off his sensors.

You giggled in your drunken state and dragged him by his hand to the crowded dance floor. The current song was just ending and you heard the first few beats of one of your favorite songs. The crowd clearly also liked the song as you all started getting hyped. You started jumping and dancing in front of him as you held his shoulders. You even grabbed the attention of some nearby girls as they encouraged you and you did the same to them.

Boothill’s expression slowly morphed from curious shock to an endearing smirk as he laughed at your total 180 shift in personality as soon as you had a few drinks. His hands found your hips as you continued to dance all over him while he moved with the rhythm.

It was also in this moment that he realized exactly what you were wearing too, it was a pretty, skin tight top and ripped shorts, completely different from the baggy overalls and t-shirt you usually wore in the workshop.

He felt his body’s cooling system kick in a bit harder.

You noticed his eyes on you as you always did, but this time, with alcohol in your system, you decided to do something about it.

You pushed him into a nearby bar stool, forcing him to sit down and lean against the bar counter. You stood between his legs, hands on his chest as you leaned towards his face.

“Thanks for coming out with me Bootie~” you said with your eyes lidded, batting your eyelashes at him. His breath hitched at the sudden nickname usage that you’ve call him by before.

“I’ve been stressed about shit recently but this is fun” you giggle, “we should do it more often,” you add, looking him up and down, something he doesn’t miss.

He relaxes slightly, hands finding their place on your waist again as his signature grin comes out. You could tell he was still pretty flustered though, he was into it, but still a bit shy.

“You’re always looking at me like that, Bootie,” you say as you trace a finger on the underside of his jaw, making him look at you. “I don’t say it when I’m not drunk… but I hope y’know I don’t mind it,” you say with a smile and lidded eyes. Your finger trails off the bottom of his chin as he ever so slightly chases your touch.

You giggle again at his reactions to you, feeling a bit giddy knowing that he was as into you as you were into him.

You push off him to run back to the dance floor, calling out to him with the nickname you just gave him.

The cowboy adjusts his hat before blinking a few times, smiling, and exhaling the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He follows you back to the dance floor as he thinks “I’m fudged.”

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

#boothill x reader #boothill fluff #boothill smut #honkai x reader #honkai fluff #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #star rail x reader #star rail fluff #j's silly ramblings

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dyeher · 11 months ago

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Warnings: dad! mitsuya, husband! mitsuya, possible breeding [fic ends before spicy shit].

Notes: mitsuya fluff inspired by my baby fever. unedited read at your own risk.

Notes: someone @audrinui <- said “tag Cass” so @s4no ❤️💋

It’s ten years later and Mitsuya is scowling at a tiny version of himself who has just managed to unravel an entire spool of red fabric onto the floor of his home workshop.

He takes a deep breath, crouching so he’s eye level with the little boy.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come in here?”

The little boy nods.

“So why are you in here?”

The boy blinks rapidly and Mitsuya bites his tongue to stifle a sigh. He can feel the oncoming tantrum as it simmers in his son’s face.

“Hey,” Mitsuya tries to calm him before he even starts. “I’m not mad,” he puts his hands up in a motion of surrender. “I just want to know what you were looking for, little monster.”

The little boy frowns at the nickname, his fingers twining nervously in front of him as he debates whether or not his father is being honest.

“C’mon tell me,” Mitsuya encourages. “Maybe daddy can help you?”

His son cocks his head in a way that reminds him so much of himself that Takashi can’t hide his smile fast enough. The answering grin that splits his son’s face knocks the wind out of his lungs. His son might be a carbon copy of him but his smile was all you.

Mitsuya reaches for him, plucking him up into his arms and propping him on his hip. “Gonna tell me what you were looking for in here kid?”

“‘s looking for my surprise,” he answers, head ducking into Mitsuya’s neck.

Mitsuya heaves a defeated sigh. “Kid, we talked about this. You’ll ruin your own surprise if you find the present before your birthday.”

Mitsuya feels the pout against his neck. “But- but I want to know now.”

Mitsuya can sympathize. The waiting game is a hard game to play as an adult, he might not remember what it was like as a kid but he can imagine it must be hell. He casts a longing glance at the fabric on the floor before leaving the room and heading into the kitchen. “How about we do something else?”

His son pulls away from his neck. Eyes narrowing at his father. “Like what?”

Sometimes Mitsuya has to remind himself that his kid is seven years old. That he’s growing. Soon he’ll be ten and then eighteen and then he’ll be bringing a girl home, and then he’ll be moving out and the house will be back to peaceful. And his threads and fabrics will stay on their spools.

He frowns. He’s not sure he likes how fast his son is growing. There’s nothing appealing about an empty house anymore. He places his son on the counter and braces his hands on either side of him.

“Wanna bake cookies for your momma, little monster?”

His son’s eyes light up, widening as he nods enthusiastically. “Chocolate chip!” he yells and Mitsuya realizes with a sudden jolt of awareness that he wants another one.

Another kid.

He goes through the motions of baking with a seven-year-old, even indulging his son in a minor flour spat, and then cleans them both up. By the time you get home they’ve retired to the couch and your son tackles you down next to him.

Mitsuya is distracted. His earlier realization sitting heavy on his mind as he watches you get your son ready for bed. He listens and inputs dutifully during story time and then presses a kiss on his son’s head before following you to your shared room.

“Takashi?”

He jolts when you wrap your arms around his waist in the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?”

He knows better than to try to tell you nothing at this point. If he’s so distracted you can sneak up at him he knows you’ll know he’s lying.

“I want another little monster,” he blurts, eyes closing when he feels you stiffen behind him.

“Are you sure?”

He meets your eyes in the mirror. “Positive.”

“And this isn’t just your desire to stuff me with cum?”

Mitsuya goes rigid, images flashing across his memory in rapid succession at your words. But- “No. I want another one,” he repeats. “Maybe a little girl this time.”

You squint at him. “Okay.”

He smiles. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow I know you’re tire—”

“Shut up and fuck me Takashi,” you chuckle, already backing away toward your bed. “Before I change my mind.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice.

#mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takahashi x reader #tokyo revengers mitsuya #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo rev smut #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers smut #tr: beyablade.

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as-is-above-so-below · 2 years ago

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The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Let's Have a Baby 2.0

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and for being the best beta! Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

Simon Riley did not cry when his first daughter was born.

He didn’t know how to process his grief amid his love’s agony and emptiness. She spent days on end, curled into the plush rocker in the corner of the empty nursery or lying flat on her back, staring at the white ceiling. His guilt was no match for her shame – as she clutched the tiny hospital blanket to her chest, sobbing that she couldn’t name her. Couldn’t name the daughter that they didn’t get to bring home.

Her wails – I’m sorry I’m weak, Please don’t hate me, I'm fucking useless – echoed in Simon’s mind when he named that baby. He knew, in his heart, that Freyja loved her with her entire being, everything she had. He knew that, if she could, she would have picked the most beautiful name, better than anything he could have come up with on his own. So he named her after his wife, so his daughter would never leave his mind.

When Joan Vanadís was born, Simon stared at her for hours. He memorized every detail of her soft features, inhaled her scent, and poured over her deep brown eyes and button nose. His wife barely got to hold her in her first day of life. Sure, he had cried, as many fathers do in the delivery room. He was completely unsure of how it was possible that he helped create this beautiful, innocent little person.

But his son, oh his son, was an entirely different animal.

Where Joanie came roaring into the world, Arthur Simon was quiet. Quiet like his father, but the spitting image of his mum, minus Simon’s curved nose (Poor thing, he thought). The gentle cry from such a delicate thing broke whatever terrified stupor he’d been in since learning that they were having a boy. The doctor placed the blue bundle on his wife’s chest, and he instantly broke down. The ‘big bad Ghost’ was a blubbering mess as their son’s small hand curled into her skin, his eyes closed, and his mouth curled into a frown. He hesitated, hand hovering over the boy until Freyja’s came and pressed his palm into the tiny body, much smaller than Joanie’s when she was born. The steady rhythm of Arthur’s little lungs working underneath his fingertips made something inside his chest snap and crumble into dust.

Whatever fear he had about having a son was gone. As he had promised their daughters, he again swore that he would be better. Better than his father. He promised he would raise Arthur the way he should have been.

In the months that followed, taking care of his son healed a piece of Simon Riley. A piece that needed the father he had fought so hard to be.

The newborn seemed to have that effect on people, particularly overgrown men.

Arthur’s godfathers and grandfather returned to England about three months after he was born. Johnny brought his partners by the second they stepped off the plane, not even offering time to dress down in civilian clothes.

König was the first in the house, carrying his and Roach’s duffels as Johnny snuck in a moment alone with their partner outside. Freyja appeared, almost making him jump out of his skin at her sudden appearance.

“Herrgott, Kapitän!” he cried, hand on his pounding heart. “You scared me.”

Freyja had Artie strapped to her chest, sucking happily on his pacifier as he stared up at her face. He was already a certifiable mama’s boy, always enamored with her and clinging to her at every waking moment (and then some). “Oh, thank god,” she sighed, unraveling the fabric from her waist and shoulders. “I need a nap.”

His eyes blew wide through the holes of his hood, and he quickly stepped back. “Nein, Freyja, ich will ihn erschrecken—”

“König, nimm deinen Patensohn.” She didn’t allow him any time to hesitate, pressing the baby against his chest. The Austrian immediately dropped the bags from his shoulders, wrapped one arm under the baby’s bum, and rested one large hand against his back.

“Freyja–!”

She was gone.

König desperately wanted to give him back. He couldn’t take the heartbreak of another kid, especially his own nephew, staring at him with pure terror, trying to get away to safety. But this child, a sweet thing, had easily and without hesitation reached for him when Freyja moved to hand him off. It was as if he already sensed that his mom would never hand him off to someone that didn’t have her full trust.

He had gotten used to Joan by that point, but she was almost a year old when he saw her last. And she was much bigger than the infant boy in his arms, done up in an (admittedly) adorable, light blue onesie, with stripes nearly resembling those of the Scotland flag (Soap most definitely bought it for that reason and that reason alone). What if he dropped him? What if he held him too tight? What if he moved and hit Arthur’s head on something? What if–

A small tug caught his attention, his mask shifting downward. König glanced down at the boy curiously pulling the thing toward his mouth, which he put a stop to. “Iss das nicht, welpe. Du weißt nicht, wo es war,” he whispered, using a finger to nudge Arthur’s fist away from his mouth.

They simply stared at each other, the man holding the baby’s gaze, surprised that the little one was tolerating it. Then in a shocking turn of events, Art jerked the fabric up and over his head, making cooing and gurgling sounds that resembled an attempt at a laugh. Both under the hood now, König froze for a moment, completely and utterly bewildered. No grown adult, let alone an infant, had ever warmed up to the giant so quickly, immediately. Artie made another noise, and beyond his control, tears started to flow freely down his paint-smudged cheeks, a huge smile lighting up their dark cavern.

As König sobbed and shook, he pressed his forehead against Arthur’s, trembling body clinging to his godson like a lifeline.

König didn’t know how long he stood there with gentle but clumsy hands palming his scars and features, reveling in the attention. He never wanted it to end. He didn’t fail to notice what felt like Ghost’s hand on his opposite shoulder, brief but definitely present; then, the familiar press of Johnny’s cheek between his shoulder blades and the imprint of his firm hands on his hips.

Yeah, you could say Arthur Simon had a gift for healing.

“Uh oh, Dada!”

Freyja chuckled at her husband’s exasperated expression, staring at the ceiling as the plastic cup bounced across the floor. Simon had spent the last ten minutes trying to slice up an orange for Joan, who, in that time, had thrown the loose cereal onto the floor, tossed her plastic fork across the room, and finally dumped the cup of water into his lap.

“Yeah, uh oh,” he sighed, bending to pick up the cup but not bothering with his now-soaked pants. “Lovie, I’m almost done. You have to be patient. We don’t throw things.”

“No!”

“Look, Joanie, here.” Simon broke a wedge off and held it out for her. Two little hands took the fruit, holding the rind as Joan gummed at the soft flesh. “Can you say, ‘Thank you, Daddy’?”

“No!”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

Arthur rested quietly in his mother’s arms with his cheek pressed against her breast as he dozed after finishing a bottle. Some mothers would have found Arthur’s level of attachment overwhelming; he rarely wanted to be put down, oftentimes crying out for her even when handed off to Simon. Similar to how Joanie gravitated to her father, Artie clung to her, and Freyja took pride in that.

When she looked up from her son, she found Simon had stripped out of his soiled sweatpants and now sat in only black boxer briefs. It was an unusually lazy day due to the poor weather outside. Simon got the kids up and fed at the usual time but didn’t do much to dress them, opting for fresh onesies. Joan’s was a dark navy, while Art’s was cream with mini tan teddy bears.

Joanie finished the orange slice quickly and placed the rind on her plate. She balled one hand into a fist and slapped the top with an open palm in a jerky movement. “Dada, more.”

“That’s right, ‘more’,” he praised, mimicking the sign for her. “Good job asking. Here.”

He placed the rest of her snack on the tray, and she immediately started nibbling at one. Simon leaned forward with his forearm on his knee, getting to eye level with the girl. “I’d really like an orange. Could you share with Daddy, lovie?” he asked while offering a hand. They had quickly learned to keep her hands occupied and practice hand-eye coordination in constructive ways, rather than letting her get bored. That was when she tended to start throwing things, as demonstrated by Simon’s now discarded pants.

She seemed to consider it, before dropping the piece she had already half finished in his palm and grabbing another.

“I meant one that wasn’t half-eaten, but this’ll do. Thank you.” He met Freyja’s eyes, his cheeks tight with laughter as he finished the fruit.

The rain thundered against the glass windows, filling the space behind Joanie’s giggles at the funny faces Simon made. Her clothed feet kicked the legs of her chair. It was there – in their kitchen on a rainy Tuesday afternoon – Freyja realized just how content she was with the life they had built together. Observing her husband as he wiped the sticky juices dribbling down their daughter’s chin and pushed her blonde curls back; her touch brushing their son’s warm, squishy cheek with her thumb.

She soaked in the atmosphere a moment longer before speaking. “Simon?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I think Artie’s my last.” Her voice was quiet, almost unsure. They’d never really discussed just how many kids they wanted. Against his initial fears, Simon was a natural; he was just as much in his element taking care of their kids as he was on the battlefield. She didn’t want to take that away if he wanted more, but she honestly couldn’t go through it again. Recovering from a c-section royally sucked, but giving birth naturally was not an option.

Simon’s brows pinched together as he swiveled away from Joanie, searching her face. He watched how her careful fingers stroked Arthur’s face, her other hand wrapped around the baby’s thigh to secure him to her. Her touch slid down to his chest, measuring his tiny heartbeat and steady breaths. He often did the same with both of their children; the gesture grounded him in their reality, and he figured it did the same for her. “Alright,” he finally said. “I’ll call for an appointment to get snipped.”

He said it as if he were talking about grabbing a takeaway on his way home from work, which gave Freyja a slight shock.

“Just like that?” she asked, turning in her chair to face him better. “Are you sure?”

“You’ve given me three beautiful babies,” Simon cooed, reaching to drag his large hands up and down her thighs. Freyja melted into his touch, legs spreading so his knee could slot between hers. “S’the least I can do. If you’re done, so am I. I had a feeling, anyway.”

“A vasectomy just seems a bit extreme. Maybe we can just use condoms?”

He raised a brow at her with an upside-down grin, challenging her. “Do you wanna try that again, with feeling? Look me in the eye and tell me you’re never gonna let me cum in you, ever again?”

“...Birth control?”

“Remind me, how did we have our daughters?”

“I hate you.”

“But I’m right.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Still right, though.” Simon rose from the table and leaned over her, resting his weight on one hand next to her thigh. He slipped the other around the back of her neck and tilted her head up, stealing a long, slow kiss. He muttered, “I’ll go next week,” against her lips before resuming, tongue gently prodding her bottom lip.

Freyja broke away and glanced up at him through her lashes with a teasing look. “You sure you can last that long without sex?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Ghost, Soap, and Gaz shipped out to replace the other half of the task force a few days later. They were only gone for two weeks, executing the final excursion to retrieve a stolen weapons cache. König, Roche, and Price had done most of the leg work but decided that the sergeants and lieutenant were better equipped for the situation at hand.

Johnny’s demolition expertise certainly came in handy this time around.

Still, Simon was sore and aching for the comfort of holding his kids and wife after what felt like the longest two weeks of his life. It was their first time leaving both babies with the other parent since Arthur was born.

Unlike his last time returning from a mission, the house was quiet, which allowed him time to take his boots off at the door and shed his mask. König’s car was parked in their driveway, leading him to believe the operative was spending the night in their guest room. Whether Roach was there too, he didn’t know.

The hall light at the top of the stairs flicked on, and Freyja appeared in a silky nightgown, standing on the last step with a tired smile and messy hair.

Simon stopped at the bottom of the stairs and hummed while his eyes roamed her body with a dopey smile.

“Welcome back,” she whispered, locking her fingers behind his neck to tilt his head back, giving him access to slot their lips together. Freyja moaned quietly at the firm hands on her hips and thighs, gripping and digging into the soft flesh. “How’d it go?”

He shrugged and pressed another chaste kiss to her lips, humming against them. “No snags. Soap got to blow stuff up.” Simon’s mouth trailed down her jaw, throat, and chest, gentle and loving.

Her fingertips brushed a gash on his cheek. Most likely from shrapnel, if its depth and jagged edges were any indicators.

“M’fine, love.”

“Joanie’s out cold, but Artie’s awake if you wanna see him. I just finished feeding him.”

That woke him up a little bit. A soft breath of air tickled the wet spots on Freyja’s skin from his silent chuckle. Simon’s arms wrapped around her waist, and he nuzzled his face in her chest as he soaked in her presence. They’d gone more extended periods without seeing each other, but whether they were apart for a week or a few months, he still missed her like crazy.

“She doing better in her room?”

“Much. She’s having some nightmares but goes back down eventually. She’s having a good night.”

“Mmm, in that case, I won’t wake her. We can surprise her in the mornin’.”

When Freyja turned to lead him upstairs, he couldn’t help himself as his hand swung up and connected with her ass, a sharp CRACK! resonating through the air.

“Simon!”

“M’sorry, couldn’t help it. You left yourself wide open on that one,” he teased, his voice low to not wake their daughter or guests. As expected, Arthur’s quiet coos reached his ears the closer they got to their bedroom. Simon dropped his gear by their bedroom door and approached the bassinet on Freyja’s side of the bed. The little boy stared in his general direction, wiggling like a (precious) worm.

The man beamed down at him and carefully slid his hands under Artie’s back with his thumbs hooked under the infant’s arms, lifting him out of the crib. “Hi, beautiful boy,” he mumbled, pressing his pursed lips against his cheek, leaving multiple kisses in the same spot. He held his son back out for a moment, a confused expression on his face once he pulled away.

“Where’d it go?”

Freyja shifted to her knees on their bed and rested her chin on his shoulder, peering down at their son. “What?”

“The baby scrunch.”

“Huh. You’re right. I didn’t even notice.”

“I just…last time I held him, he still curled up. I missed it,” he said, a grown man literally pouting.

“I know…” She let her hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest. “I’m sorry, Si. I know it sucks. Being away comes with the job, and that means we miss things. We’ve been lucky so far with Joanie, honestly.”

Arthur had quieted down, sucking his pacifier as he studied Simon’s painted face and clinging to his shirt.

A knock at the doorframe caught their attention, and all three turned to the source. König rubbed the sleep from his eyes, bare feet padding across the carpet until he reached them. “Hello, Lieutenant. Did the operation bode well?”

“Yeah, everything was just as you said it – was…”

The baby had started to whine again and let go of his dad, reaching for his uncle with grabby hands. The man’s face flushed, but he didn’t make a move to take the baby. Once the shock wore off, Simon took the initiative to hand Art off, and König gladly received him.

He immediately settled again, laying his head back in the crook of König’s elbow, humming softly against his pacifier. “Hallo, welpe,” he said in a hushed tone, rocking his nephew gently.

“Well, that’s new,” Simon grumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed to avoid awkwardly standing there. Simon wasn’t too annoyed, but he was somewhat sad. He had missed his babies dearly and looked forward to some serious attention. But his usually shy baby, who never wanted to be handed off to anyone besides his mother and occasionally Simon, was suddenly choosing their friend over him.

How much had he missed in such a short amount of time?

“I apologize, sir. I am as surprised as you are. He’s a good boy; I think we have been around so much the last two weeks…”

“König.”

“Ja?”

“Drop the sir. We’re not on base. I’m not mad.”

König blinked at him, confused. “It’s… Scheiße, wie sagt man ‘gebräuchlich’ auf Englisch? Ich weiß es nicht. It is normal to use sir where I’m from.”

Simon glared back. “And this is my house. You’ve done as my wife has said to gain my son’s affection. So now, you will do what I say to get back in my good graces after robbing me of my child. Are we clear?”

“I feel…bad. Please, take him back–”

He shook his head and stood again, scratching at the light stubble that had formed on his cheeks over the last few days. “And I’m telling you, no. It’s fine. I have to shower anyway.”

“Alles klar.”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis, @misshoneypaper, @berryjuicyy, @voteforpedropascal, @beakami, @addictedtothefictionalworld, @kaghost

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licorice-tea · 4 months ago

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The Captain Who Loved Me (1/2)

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: Angst, Reader is hurt/unconscious (briefly), reader tries to run away from their problems, ends up in a dangerous situation, themes of fear/ danger!, fluff afterwards, sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors!

Word Count: ~1.6k

A/N: Hey… Sorry it’s been so long! My life has been busy, to say the least. Borderline chaotic, but I don’t want to make it out to be a bad thing when there are so many amazing things and people in my life right now. However, there have been a few personal events that have made me less motivated/ less focused on writing. I’m sorry for making you all wait for updates/ requests, but I genuinely am just lacking a lot of interest in writing fanfic at the moment. Still, J appreciate all of your support so so much <3 It makes my day when I go on this app and see that people are still enjoying things I’ve written! So, I hope you enjoy this one too. (Part 1/2 bc i want to do a shorter ending.)

Part 3

Law hadn't thought that when you said you would “go,” you wouldn't really try to leave. And in all fairness, neither had you. You just started walking away from him, way too peeved to even look back or slow down when you heard his stuttered “wait!” And when you got back to your cabin, you picked up a backpack. Then you had filled it with only the essentials (the same way you would pack to go inland for a day or possibly longer.) And finally, with no purpose in your plan besides getting away for a little while and clearing your mind, you headed below deck to the Soldier Dock System.

Franky named this deck the Soldier Dock System because, as he had once explained to you, all of the smaller vehicles housed within the Sunny are like her soldiers. The memory makes you smile as you quietly open the door and close it behind you, then stroll along the small walkway until you spot what you came down here for in the first place: The Mini Merry 2. She bobs in shallow water and seems to call to you; “Get in! Let’s go!”

You’re too tired to make the right decision, so you quickly open channel 2 of the dock system, drop your bag into the passenger seat, and climb in after. An opening on the side of the Sunny lets in higher waters, which carry the Mini Merry out to sea…

“Have you seen y/n?”

Zoro’s head snaps up to the other swordsman. The two don’t converse much outside of what's necessary, so he's surprised to see the equally stoic man standing over him while he “naps” (keeps watch) in the crows nest. He shakes his head.

“Nope.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be keeping watch?”

“Yeah, on the ocean. Not my own crew mates.”

Law scoffs, and mutters; “Thanks for nothing.”

Zoro can tell the other captain is annoyed for some reason, and decides to throw him a bone. “Traffy!”

“What?”

“Check the lower levels. They might be hanging out in someone’s workshop… or whatever.”

Law regards Zoro with a suspicious gaze, but it soon turns to one of quiet thanks. He nods and leaves through the hatch in the crows nest.

Cool sea air hits him stronger than expected as soon as he exits the confines of the crows nest. With one hand and both feet planed (somewhat) firmly on the rope ladder, Law leans back to view the weather. A storm is brewing on the horizon, which shouldn’t be any problem for a ship as massive and advanced as the Thousand Sunny. The navigator/thief had briefed everyone on board on the gloomy weather that night after dinner, and though Law had been too distracted by thoughts of you, he had managed to pay a little bit of attention for the sake of important information. You hadn’t been at the impromptu meeting regarding the sea and sky’s conditions, so he had just assumed you were probably resting in your cabin already. No reason to worry over your safety if you were already fast asleep, right?

But as Law continues to survey the waters surrounding his temporary residence, he spots an anomaly. A tiny boat, rocking on the water as the ocean seems to send more violent waves its way. With squinted eyes, Law observes the miniature ship. It’s hard to see through the oncoming rain, but he can make out the lone passenger’s bent knees. They’re apparently trying to brace themselves as they struggle with the steering mechanism at the front of the boat, and their hair is whipped every which way about their face by winds that must be much stronger that far out at sea. It’s hard to make out their features because of the rain that comes down in sheets over their mysterious figure, but when he finally catches a glimpse of their face, Law’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

He watches in horror as, what he now recognizes as your ship, is tossed back and forth on the tumultuous waves. You look over your shoulder and back at the Sunny, before you lose your balance. But your head seems to be struck by something at the front of the ship during your short fall, based on the way you first wobble, almost find your footing by leaning forwards, then jolt backwards. Law yells your name at the top of his lungs, but you do not move.

When you open your eyes to find yourself tucked into your bed, you think nothing of it. That is, until the throbbing pain in the center of your forehead reveals itself to you. Then the memories of a storm all come flooding back: the freedom you had felt in your first few moments in open water, alone with your thoughts. How quickly that sense of calmness had turned to panic as the weather changed in an instant, leaving you to desperately try to steer back towards the Sunny in a boat no taller than yourself. Slipping on the small deck, only for your head to hit something and… black out. And you remember Law’s voice, too; he had sounded so distant that it must have been your imagination .

The soft creak of your bedroom door draws you from the rush of memories, and you look up to find Chopper making his way into your room with a tray. He doesn’t realize your eyes are open until he’s set it down on a bedside table, and climbed up onto your bed with a stethoscope in hand.

“Y/n! You’re awake!” he gasps.

You offer a weak smile and attempt to sit up, but the reindeer gently pushes you back down. “Chopper… What happened?”

“You had an accident during the storm 3 days ago-“

“3 days ago?”

“Yes, Nami briefed the crew on it. But then Traffy found you on the Mini Merry 2, a mile from the ship!”

“I- I didn’t know there would be a storm…”

Chopper frowns while placing his stethoscope on your chest. You take 2 deep breaths in and he nods to himself before simply sitting beside you. “What were you doing out there?”

You shrug, “I just wanted to clear my head.”

He pays your arm, “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Traffy, but he cares for you a lot. He used his devil fruit to save you in the middle of the ocean, which… could have ended badly.”

This strikes a chord within you. Of course you knew Law cared for you to some degree, but knowing that he put his own safety on the line to help you in your time of need… Perhaps it was wrong of you to assume he was selfish and cold for refusing to admit what was so glaringly obvious to everyone else. What is now so clear to you, too.

He loves you.

“Oh… And is he-“

“He’s fine, but I prescribed him some much needed rest from coming in contact with sea water.”

Chopper finishes examining you and gives you some pain medication for your head, then leaves you alone to properly wake up and get yourself together. To no surprise, your alone time doesn’t last long as an influx of visitors find their way to your cabin.

First are Nami and Robin, who knew you were awake from hearing your voice through shared walls. They come with a small bouquet of flowers from Robin’s garden in a pretty little decorative vase, and each make themselves comfortable in your room. Though the door is closed, Luffy excitedly barges in soon after, followed by Usopp, then Chopper again. He scolds the two young men for disturbing your peace and possibly riling you up, but you assure the even younger doctor that it’s more than fine. Because, in your opinion, there’s nothing like your nakama’s company to raise your spirits. Zoro must have wandered in at some point and decided to take a nap on your floor, which you only realize when Sanji opens the door and hits the swordsman’s leg when he (gently) kicks it open. They resolve to only glare at each other for a moment before Sanji hands you a cup of something warm and sweet, “For someone warm and sweet.”

The 8 of you spend some time chatting and enjoying your company before you find the courage to ask, “Where is everyone else?”

“Jimbei is steering the ship-“

“Brook is keeping watch-

“And Franky is working below deck. Something about improving the Mini Merry 2… But that’s not really what you wanted to know, is it?”

You feel your face heat up as you meet Robin’s all-knowing eye and shake your head “no.” She smiles at you and giggles pass between your crew mates.

Your friends file out of your room (or are ushered out by Nami and Robin, rather, who insist that you should get some more rest.) But soon enough, there’s yet another knock at your door. Your breath hitches, as you feel you already know who’s on the other side…

“Come in.”

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14 @theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction @nyxlai @mrs-monkey-d-luffy @pi-crust @bookboyfriendssaveme @dark-swedish-suitcase-blog

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spotaus · 3 months ago

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YOU!!! YOU UNDERSTAND!!!! I have been grinning about this since I read it omg...

I'm thinking the dynamics here are that: Night and Dream grew up as twin princes. They always knew one of them would hold the mantle of this great prophecy on their shoulders (eating the apple instead of protecting the tree). Parent situation... probably Nim? Maybe the prophecy required her death to form the apple. Yeah we'll go w/ that. But anyways, Dream and Night were super close, but Dream was always off training with the nights and visiting the village while Night was studying and learning the politics in the castle. Dream would be the hero, the King of Prophecy, and Nightmare was to be his advisor. Dream would take the spotlight and Night would be the brain helping to guide him with the menial tasks. And... they were fine with that! Some people thought Night was jealous or secretly an evil twin, but they adored the idea of ruling like that.

But... Nightmare was reading up one day, studying the prophecy, and... things just didn't line up. The words seemed to imply a sacrifice, one beyond the body of their mother, and death. Lots of it. Hidden beneath flowery language that any commoner wouldn't blink twice at. And Night realized that the only one who could stop this tragedy was the one who ate the apple. Someone not blinded by the falsehoods. And when he went to his mother, the Queen, she pretty much told him he was being crazy and to hush up. It was treason to talk like that.

So he didn't tell Dream. He didn't tell *anyone*. At least, not until later. Not until years later, a month before Dream's coronation and when he'd accept the apple. He was having night terrors and made regular trips to the kitchen for snacks. Ccino was always the one working late, feeding the night-guards coming in from their rounds. He was there when Nightmare whispered his ideas to him in the quiet kitchen, scrolls and books in his arms filled with all the reasons and signs and hints in their past. And it was Ccino who stared at him in a way that Night *knew* he made sense. That he was right.

It was when Night told Dream the next morning, that Dream told him that he had to eat the apple. Their mother had told him that if Night ate it, he'd turn evil. He couldn't be king, because Dream didn't want to lose him. So... Nightmare swore to Dream he wouldn't speak of it again.

On the day of Dream's ceremony, Nightmare was stood beside him as their mother gave her blessing. The prince to eat the apple she created was rightful heir and would hold the power in the prophecy. Her power extended into it as she handed it off to Dream's awaiting hands. ...And when it was formed? When Dream turned towards the crowd for his speech before he bit into it? Nightmare snatched it and took a huge bite. It echoed in the silent hall, and everyone watched in shock as Nightmare was enveloped in the magic. A dark, sloppy, mass of black magic that radiated hatred and fury and fear. All the anxieties Nightmare had had up until this moment washed over everyone. And he announced he, by the law of the land, was now King.

He didn't banish Dream on the spot, no, it was later that day, when Nightmare tried to talk to him in private, when he explained himself again. Dream had been so overwhelmed with fury and betrayal that he'd slammed a nearby candelabra over Nightmare's head. He didn't think it was his brother in there anymore. He was too tall, too well-spoken, too... unfamiliar. The bad energy he radiated made Dream act rashly. And Nightmare, now injured and emotionally drained, realized Dream wouldn't understand. He didn't want his twin to think of him as the villain, but he would, so he left, and declared it that Dream was banished from the kingdom. The act that solidified for everyone that the darker twin was corrupt. Whether he always had been or if his jealous fit had doomed him, he was not the little prince they knew.

And just... idk. His paranoia kicks in once Dream leaves, Ccino helping him, it all piles up after that point! Long enough that Dream has time to grow up and become a man himself!

Night totally just picks his guys in a similar way a kid picks theur favorite superhero or smth, you're so right lol! He sees these people and is like, 'okay, I know they're mean and scary but I think they're cool sooooo.' And then his adult magic justifies it more thoroughly, but God honestly he's putting in blind faith here most of the time. (Plus as Scary Night he has enough power to defend himself so he has some leeway-)

And Dream w/ him like... they were all fine and dandy until a month before his coronation, so he's 100% convinced someone managed to get the ideas into his head during his studies or while he was alone. Night replaces most of the council and servants though, and a lot of nobility is straight up removed, so he keeps trying to narrow down who it was. But then Night hires on violent people to do his work and is sure by then that Night's magic has plans all its own, like a Demon. That he's gathering like, 4 horsemen or smth.

It also hurts Dream a lot when Cross changes sides. There's no word from him, just one day he doesn't come back from his scouting, and Dream is sure Night killed him. Then the next time they get news, Cross is just as loyally by Night's side as he was at Ink's or Dream's. Brainwashing or just loose loyalties he can't tell, but it disheartens him a lot.

And fir the silly bits: YES- Error definitely has that moment of 'Dude, the King is really really cool and- ohhhh wait. Ohh noooo.' And then has like, a very short-lived crisis before deciding it's all or nothing until the confession that I think happens after they get Night back from Dream. Then Night doesn't realize it until even after the confession. Like, one of those, "Now is NOT the time, can we PLEASE go home???" Moments and he is unaware that's usually a rejection. He talks it over with Ccino and Ccino is like, 'M'lord, no disrespect, but Error is probably avoiding you because you basically rejected him.' And Night like. Rips out of the lounge they're in and straight towards Error's tower in a flustered mess because !!! they were overwhelmed !!! of course he likes Error!!! Abd so he clears it up after the fact lmao-

And the Geno and Fresh stuff!! Geno definitely bonds w/ Reaper over the treaty attempts, because Reaper would notice a steep decline in Geno's work and general wellbeing after he gets the letters from people saying Error is missing. He can't abandon his work, of course, but Reaper would confront him and Geno would spill that his hazard of a little brother ran away. Reaper would sympathize and offer to search like u said. And just. Geno decides he likes Reaper a bit more when he does actually start handling business, and Reaper though Geno was stunning and very enjoyable to be around the moment he met him so like... slow burn while having other stuff going on.

And exactly! Fresh was supposed to watch Error, but Error was living at the academy when Geno left so Fresh was on a trip for his own stuff. Completely unaware that Error got expelled, and completely unaware he left the house empty for him to cone back to. Geno is 100% furious with him and Fresh is also regularly looking for Error or word of him while he's out, but he loses the trail in one city and doesn't hear anything again. (City where the hiring of the Wizard went on.) So Fresh thinks Error is dead, and feels guilty af all the time, but has to roll with the punches.

And... hmm. Yeah. Ccino is definitely like the guardian of pretty much everyone in the castle at this point, but especially Night. (He's also a big part of Nightmare's recovery from Dream too, because Dream doesn't remember the faces of any servants (spoiled kid raised that way) so Ccino is like... a perfect operative to help sneak around and gather info.) Ccino would die for his little friend, and I do think it's an insanely sweet friendship between them. Ccino is also in charge of all the cats that live across the castle grounds. He doesn't own them, but they keep out mice and he gives them treats so they tend to end up flocking to him 🙏

Bad wip of that au I was talking about 🙏

(It's MY au so I get to put Error in a stupid wizard fit!!!)

#yipppeeee¡!!!!!!#yeah RealAge AU has all these tasty dynamics and vibes and plot points that I do not want to steal but I am certsinly taking inspo from #it holds a special place in my heart forever and ever <3 <3 #and boy I piled a lot of thoughts in here but like...#a completely unhinged side idea is just bouncing off Reaper meeting with Nightmare post-Dream situation and Reaper's heard the rumors of the #young King who has an iron fist but is also... honestly banger about keeping his people happy? and who evaded their prophecy's awful ending #and so he rolls up to their castle and meets his welcoming party like Horror and Cross and he's kinda like... chill. they're good guys #then it's Killer and Dust who are in the meeting room and he's... more understanding as to why the kingdoms were enemies prior #then Nightmare struts in #tiny and short compared to his Knights and Reaper and Geno and Reaper's guards #but he's completely serious and really invested in this treaty and knows all the details and negotiates a fair allyship between them #one of the things being weaponry. and so he goes to take them to meet with “His Wizard”#and the Wizard Night chose was a secret from the public so very few know his name or identity. just that he's powerful and dangerous.#and Night shows them to his study that now also houses Error's 2nd workshop and he's waiting there to show the visiting King and Wizard his #supplies and what he can give them...#and he whips around and it's Geno standing there and while Night is doing easy introductions Geno and Error are both staring at eachother #trying to figure out who will talk first. and Night saying Error's name kinda breaks the stare and Geno elbows Reaper and there's this #moment of Error awkwardly greeting his brother #and Geno rushing forward to bundle Error in a hug because!!! his little brother is alive! and safe! and got to practice magic! and is #honestky the safest kingdom of the current tines! and he's so happy and relieved he forgets all formalities and Reaper has to cover for him #and tell Nightmare the jist while Error gets the mama cat check over from Geno #there's so much lmao sorry-#back to studying!!!#i should also name this I think... any suggestions? i wanna make a nod to RA:au in the name but brain a lil fried rn lol-

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duskandcobalt · 2 months ago

Text

Everywhere, Everything: Chapter Eight

Chapter Summary: Back in the same city once again, Azriel and Elain are no longer able to ignore what's simmering between them

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: smut. just smut. (18+ pls and ty)

Missed the first seven chapters? You can find the Masterlist for this fic here 🥰

A/N: hello again friends, i'm baaaaack :)

Once again, I must begin by saying thank you for all your lovely comments and messages on my fics and on my wip wednesday posts because they truly keep me going 💕 I hope you enjoy this next installment.

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Azriel couldn’t keep his foot from tapping against the linoleum floor of the Velaris airport as he kept an eager eye on the escalator that descended into the tiny arrivals hall.

He’d picked Elain up from this airport a number of times when she’d gone on work trips or holidays with her sisters. But he’d never picked her up like this - waiting for her inside instead of on the curb. Waiting for her with this new situation between them ever present in the back of his mind just as it had been ever since the morning after Christmas when they’d unexpectedly gotten a little too carried away in his workshop.

He had the thought that maybe he should’ve brought some flowers with him today - if only to have something to do with his hands because right now he couldn’t decide whether to keep them in or out of his pockets and so he’d been fidgeting like a madman for the last fifteen or so minutes. It was a wonder airport security hadn’t confronted him for suspicious behaviour.

The issue with bringing flowers was that they were headed straight to Nesta and Cassian’s house for the long weekend and the thought of explaining why he’d bought Elain flowers to her brother-in-law was enough to give him a headache.

He’d already received a look from Rhys when he’d volunteered to pick her up under the pretence that it would make life easier for him and Feyre but maybe he’d been too eager given the speed with which he’d offered when they’d been discussing the logistics for this weekend.

But Azriel couldn’t have possibly kept his cool. Not when the last time he’d seen her in person he’d had to drop her off at her sister’s house without so much as a kiss on the cheek because Nesta had been standing outside, waiting for her on the porch with a look on her face that hovered somewhere between worry and disappointment, as if Elain were a wayward teenager who’d snuck out for the night.

It’d been months of separation and now she was once again back for her nephew’s birthday and though they’d been in near constant contact - texts, phone calls, hours spent on Facetime each evening - he couldn’t wait to see her again and he was desperate for a bit of time alone with her - even if it was just the forty five minute drive from the airport to Nesta’s house on the outskirts of town.

Azriel raised up on his toes and then back down again - made note that perhaps he’d been spending too much time with Feyre because he’d clearly picked up that nervous habit from her - and then focused his attention back to the escalator again just in time to see a girl with brown hair cascading over her shoulders, a bright smile on her cherry red lips, and pretty eyes that were already set on him.

There were no words for the way that first glimpse of her made him feel. No possible way to describe the rush he felt in his chest or the anxious itch of his palms. For all the slack he caught for keeping his feelings to himself and hardly ever letting his emotions show on his face, now his cheeks actually hurt from the way he was grinning as Elain not so casually rushed across the floor to him before abandoning her bags and launching herself into his arms.

He caught her easily, lifting her up with his arms wrapped tight around her middle - savouring the feel of her hands as they wove through the strands of his dark hair.

“Hi,” Elain giggled, resting her forehead against his.

“Hi, Lain,” Azriel smiled back, carefully setting her back down on her feet so he could move his hands from her waist up to her face, tilting her chin up to him before he lowered his lips to hers.

He felt the momentary hesitation, the bit of slight shock. He thought for a split second that maybe he’d pushed his luck with her, taken it too far, but the feeling was short lived because he soon felt her relax in his arms, melting into the kiss - melting into him. He knew what would’ve been going through her head. Knew that she’d paused for a moment because they’d never had this before - the chance to be so open, to put on such a display of affection where anybody in their small town could see them.

“Missed you,” she whispered against his lips, suddenly shy. Her face was flushed, eyes shimmering as she pulled back and looked at him.

“Missed you, too.” Azriel whispered back, pecking her cheek once more for good measure. “Ready to go?” He asked, waiting for her nod of confirmation before reaching for her suitcase with one hand and taking her hand in the other because he simply couldn’t keep from touching her in some small way.

The walk to the car was quick, quiet words exchanged about the flight as they walked - turbulent to start but otherwise fine. He knew how much she hated landings and so he’d given her hand a squeeze when she relayed with a small laugh the way she’d gripped the armrest, wishing he’d been there to hold her hand instead.

There’d also, much to his chagrin, been a slight moment of embarrassment when Azriel started his car only for music to start blaring from the speakers - a bass heavy club track with female vocals that featured on his rotation of music he listened to whilst at the gym. He’d been listening to it on the way to the airport at top volume to keep his mind distracted.

Elain had looked over at him, a teasing grin on her lips and one sharp eyebrow raised as he sheepishly lowered the volume and quickly picked up his phone, switching to an indie folk song that was more indicative of the style of music he typically listened to throughout the day. “I see your club rat days aren’t completely behind you, after all.”

Azriel chuckled as he threw an arm around her headrest and put the car in reverse, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking spot.

“Only within the constraints of this car and the gym, I’m afraid.”

“Shame… I was hoping to see you with some glow sticks in hand again. It’s been awhile.”

Azriel shook his head at how much amusement she was getting out of this moment. He’d had a reputation in his college days for enjoying a good night out and while Elain had only witnessed him in his prime party days a couple of times, she’d never let him forget it. “Don’t worry, I keep the glow sticks in the glove compartment and pull them out at red lights to entertain myself sometimes.”

“Very funny,” Elain rolled her eyes, settling into her seat and looking out the window as she quietly hummed along to the song that was now playing.

Azriel watched her out of the corner of his eye, enjoying having her as a passenger in his car once again, happily chattering away about what they’d been up to and what this weekend had in store for them. It wasn’t until they were on the last five or so miles to their destination that he noticed how quiet she’d gotten a little over halfway into the drive, the conversation dying down into what he believed to be a comfortable silence.

But the more the silence continued, the more suspicious he got. He’d caught her twice now not-so-subtly sneaking long glances at him while she fidgeted with her necklace and shifted repeatedly in her seat, legs crossing and uncrossing as if she couldn’t get comfortable. It was dark out but he could just about spot a little crease between her brows - a dead giveaway she had something on her mind.

He’d just opened his mouth to ask about it when she looked over at him.

“Could you pull over?”

“What?” Azriel frowned, looking over at her as he slowed down, approaching the end of the long, dark road they were on. “Are you okay?”

His own forehead creased in concern as he scanned her from head to toe. He didn’t know what he was looking for, could barely even see her properly now that the sun had fully set behind the mountains.

“Yeah, I’m fine… I just… I… can you turn down here?” Elain gestured to the left where the paved road turned to dust and gravel - no street lights to be seen. They were supposed to go right and over the train tracks before turning into Nesta and Cassian’s neighbourhood.

Azriel turned left as directed, driving a little further down the road before pulling to the side and putting the car in park. He twisted in his seat to face her, the dim lights from the dashboard doing little to help him see her.

“Lain, what’s wr-,” Azriel didn’t get a chance to finish his question because Elain was unbuckling her seatbelt and was halfway over the centre console of his car a second later - her lips fused to his neck, her hand skimming the waistband of his jeans.

“Can we,” her hand slid along his jaw, turning his face toward hers. Her lips were inches from his. “Please, Az. Let me…”

The other hand that settled low on his waist slid down further, fingers gently palming him where his body had begun to catch on far quicker than his mind.

“Fuck,” Azriel let out an involuntary groan, his hips keening upwards into her touch. “Jesus, Lain…here? Now?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. She breathed in the scent of him, tracing a path with her mouth to his ear where he felt her teeth just barely graze his ear lobe. “Been thinking about it all day long… this whole drive, on the plane, when I was at home. Want you in my mouth.”

Azriel cursed again under his breath, so caught off guard by her uncharacteristically brazen words to even notice that she’d undone the button and zipper of his jeans until he felt her fingers wrap around him, lightly dragging up his quickly hardening length. Just a tease of a touch that had him breathless.

He shouldn’t be surprised that she was acting like this - so out of her mind with the need to have him that she’d gone as far as to make him pull over when they were mere minutes away from seeing her family.

She’d been so eager a time or two on those late night calls, after all. Had only vaguely pretended to be shy when after hours of exchanging increasingly salacious texts, he asked if she’d undress for him. She’d nodded, a pretty blush creeping up her neck as she slowly took off her clothes and propped her laptop between her legs, dutifully following his instructions - lower, slower, yes, just like that… good girl - until she was coming for him, rapid breaths, his name muttered into her pillow, the light from her computer screen casting her perfect skin in hues of blue.

“Come here,” he groaned, suddenly impatient, overcome with the need to have her - wanting to give her what she was begging for. He unbuckled his own seatbelt and pushed his seat back as far as it would go, helping her over the console and onto his lap, chuckling when her ass hit the horn. She maintained her focus, kissing him once, twice, then shifting down - squeezing herself into the space between his legs, her knees on the floor of the driver’s side, her hands on his thighs, her lips tracing a path around the head of his cock.

It was like something out of a wet dream. It was every filthy fantasy he’d ever had. Elain on her knees, signature deep red lipstick staining his skin like a map of all the places her lips had explored. Heavy lidded eyes watering as she took him into her mouth - deeper, then deeper still, until he felt the back of her throat, heard the soft choking sound of her taking just a bit too much.

“Careful,” Azriel whispered, gathering her long hair in his fist and holding it back so that it stayed out of her way and gave him the view he was after.

Elain drew back, taking a deep breath as she smiled up at him - eyes glazed over with lust. “I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” she dragged her tongue over his head, her fist tightening and twisting around him. “For years.”

“Yeah?” It’s all he could manage because she was back to it, that torturous mouth making him see stars. The way she hummed around him in confirmation brought him right to the edge. Only a few minutes and she already had him there, thighs tensing as he tried to hold back just a second longer. “Elain… I’m gonna,” he tried to warn her. Tried to give her the option. But she kept going, nails digging into his thighs, almost smiling around him as he tugged at her hair so her eyes were focused on his as he spilled into her mouth with a loud groan.

He watched in a daze the motion of her throat as she swallowed, taking everything he gave her in stride until he was completely spent. He released her hair,carefully tucking it behind her ear as she dragged her tongue over him one last time.

Azriel reached down after she pulled off him, thumbing at her full bottom lip - now slick with spit. “This mouth… all I’ve been thinking about is your mouth. These lips, that lipstick - thought about it on my cock.”

“Hope I lived up to your expectations,” she smiled, shy once again.

“Exceeded them,” he slipped his thumb further between her lips, shaking his head when she playfully dragged her teeth over the pad of it as if she just couldn’t help herself. He had to pull back, keep his hands to himself before he abandoned all plans and hauled her into the back seat of his truck to return the favour.

Elain pressed small kisses to his thighs and his chest as she did her best to make him presentable again before settling back on his lap with her arms around his neck, her face once again tucked into his neck. “Thank you.”

Azriel couldn’t help but laugh as he leaned back to look at her, hands cupping her face. “Think I should be thanking you.”

She shook her head, smiling at him. “Needed that.”

All he could do was grin at her stupidly, tracing her cheeks and then her lips, before he kissed her. Slow. Deep. In no rush.

To hear that she wanted him like that, needed him… he could almost come again just from the thought of her feeling that way. He was so in over his head, so deeply gone for her.

“Az,” she swallowed, biting down on her lip. “We should go… before the girls send a search party.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, hands squeezing her ass once more before helping her back over the console and into her seat. He righted himself, readjusted his seat, and turned the engine back on. He started driving back towards the train tracks - his hand on her thigh, a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The memory of a moment on a dirt road now a secret just between them - nothing but the stars in the night sky as their witness.

…

Filthy.

It was downright filthy the way Elain felt about him. Filthy the way she walked into her sister’s house knowing her lipstick was on Azriel’s body, crudely smeared under his jeans. Filthy, the way she could still feel his fingers threaded through her hair - the gentle tug of his fist until her eyes were on him so he could watch as she swallowed. Filthy the way she wanted to avoid eating or drinking if only to keep the taste of him in her mouth just a little bit longer.

She’d wanted it from the second she’d gotten ready for the airport, slipping on her favourite underwear while imagining him taking it off her. She’d wanted to make him feel the way he’d made her feel a time or two now - knew that he wouldn’t be keeping count but still, she’d been itching for it and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out as soon as she first spotted Azriel upon arrival at the Velaris airport. It was a miracle she’d even lasted that far into the drive. It was even more of a miracle that she’d been able to stop after all was said and done considering that now, hours later, there was a persistent ache between her legs the begged to be attended to.

Arriving at Nesta’s house had been a much needed distraction. She’d checked her appearance in the visor mirror just to make sure there wasn’t any incriminating evidence of what they’d done lingering on her skin and then climbed out of the car just in time for the front door to swing open and her nephew to appear at the top of the stairs, shouting her name in excitement.

From there, she’d been dragged into the house - taken on a tour of the toys and books he’d forced his parents to drag along for the weekend - before he finally handed her over to the adults when the excitement faded and the sleepiness took over.

She was happy to be back in this house with her favourite people. It was so different from the last time she’d been here, when Graysen had been glued to her hip, his eyes carefully keeping track of her every move. The last time she’d been here, she’d told Azriel that they couldn’t be friends - at least not like they had once been.

She couldn’t believe just how much had changed in such a short span of time. She couldn’t wrap her head around just how differently everything had panned out. Now she was back in one of her favourite places, no overbearing boyfriend in sight. And yes, she and Azriel weren’t friends, certainly not like they had once been. But it was true in a much different way than she’d anticipated and she couldn’t possibly be happier about it.

It had been so easy to fall back into old patterns with him - the comfortable ease of their long friendship rekindled as if the year or two of limited communication had never happened. But while those first few weeks after Christmas were just like old times - friendly conversations talking about everything and nothing - at some point their daily phone calls escalated, certain things slipping out with the darkening of the sky and a couple glasses of wine.

They’d sp0ken about their situation a few times over the phone. She’d confided in him about Graysen - about the mistakes made and the lessons she’d learned. About her hesitancy to jump straight into another relationship. So they’d agreed to keep things casual, to not label anything just yet. Still, it was evident by the constant tension between them, that they were undeniable more than just friends.

Perhaps that should’ve been obvious, given that the last time she’d seen him in person he’d had his head between her legs and it would’ve gone further had Nesta not rudely interrupted.

She’d hated leaving him like that and had been so eager to see him afterwards but the New Year's rush had been hard to avoid at work for both of them and so they’d ended up agreeing to see each other when she visited for Nyx’s birthday - and to keep this new development just between them- until they could plan their next steps.

That’s how they ended up in this house - Elain unable to look Azriel in the eye for more than a few seconds while surrounded by their family and friends without thinking of everything she wanted to do with him. She’d been more than happy to entertain Nyx and to help prep dinner. To do absolutely anything that would keep her busy so that she didn’t have time to think about the way she could feel him sneaking looks at her every time they were in the same room. With the distraction of other people, she could push aside the desire coursing through her for just a moment.

Somehow, Elain had made it through the night successfully. She hadn’t raised any suspicions. Had managed to interact with him in a way that was just the right amount of friendly. But now, laying in the bedroom she always stayed in at Nesta’s house, all she could think of was him. Of what they’d done in the car on the way here just three or four hours ago.

She wanted him again. Wanted his hands on her body. Wanted his tongue in her mouth. Felt like she needed him in a way that was borderline embarrassing.

She picked up her phone, opening their text thread. She typed and deleted multiple messages before locking her phone and putting it face down on the nightstand. It felt too desperate to text him like that. Juvenile almost. But it was torture - each shift of her legs, the soft touch of the sheets, the feel of her t-shirt twisting around her sensitive skin - it all added to her incessant need. Her nipples were hard peaks and there was a thrumming low in her core that was becoming impossible to ignore. She’d never in her life felt frustration like this, pinpricks of sweat gathering at her hairline.

She knew this wasn’t something that she’d be able to work away herself like she did when she was alone at home and desperate for him- in bed, her fingers stroking between her thighs.

Elain sat up, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. She needed air. A glass of cold water. And if she walked by his room… if she happened to see the glow of a light underneath the gap in his door, then that would be the sign she needed. Maybe then she’d knock. And if he happened to be awake, if he happened to open the door, then she’d feign ignorance - was just going to the kitchen and saw your light was on…

With her mind made up, she slipped on her robe and padded to the door with the intention of venturing to the kitchen but she didn't make it far at all, pulling the door open only to almost walk face first into the solid wall of Azriel’s chest.

“Oh,” she swallowed, dragging her eyes up to his face.

He looked just as dishevelled as she felt, his hair tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it.

“I was just going to the kitchen because I needed some -”

“Save it,” he shook his head, voice low as he stepped towards her, forcing her to retreat back into her room. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, too distracted by the look of determination in his eyes as twisted her around and quickly closed the door behind them.

Her entire body sparked to life, burning as he reached for her again, both hands firm on her hips until she was completely pressed up against the door with nowhere to go, his hips flush against hers, not even a single inch left between them. It was that movement that made her snap out of the daze, it was the feel of him hard and heavy against her stomach that left no room for questioning what he was here for or that his intentions matched exactly what she’d had in mind while she’d been tossing and turning in her bed.

Azriel wasted no time, hands deftly undoing the tie of her robe, reaching up to slip it off her shoulders until it fell to their feet. His fingers were under her t-shirt a moment later, fingertips skimming the soft curve of her breasts.

“Az, wait…” Elain breathed, trying to put a bit of space between them if only to clear her head a little. “Feyre and Rhys…”

“Don’t wanna hear names that aren’t mine right now,” he said gruffly, rolling his hips against hers.

“It’s just that they’re right next door. I share a wall and they could hear…”

Azriel only smirked down at her, thumbs circling her sensitive nipples. “Guess you’ll just have to be quiet then won’t you. Do you think you can manage that?”

She knew he was being smart with her, knew that he remembered just how not quiet she’d been the last time he’d had his hands on her like this. But her rational brain had seemed to vacate the premises and so instead of offering some sort of rebuttal back, Elain was muttering something like I can be so quiet, I promise I’ll be so quiet as she turned them around, tugging him down towards her and pulling him to the floor.

“Right here?” Azriel raised an eyebrow, hands travelling up her legs and under the hem of her oversized t-shirt, leaving goosebumps in their path, until his fingers curled into the straps of the lacy underwear she wore.

“Yes,” Elain nodded, not bothering to explain that the headboard would likely be an issue for them. She lifted her hips up to make it easier for him to tug her underwear down her legs. “Here. Now. Need you.”

“I know,” Azriel soothed, hands pushing her shirt up her torso before lifting it off her head, leaving her sprawled out underneath him - naked on the carpet. “I know, angel.”

Elain bit down on her lip, watching as he quickly stripped out of his own clothes before lowering himself over her. One big palm was placed on her thighs, calloused hand spreading her wide in a way that would’ve made her blush if she wasn’t so focused on the blissful feeling of his weight settling on top of her and pinning her to the floor.

That same hand maneuvered in between their bodies, fingers easily parting her and slipping through her center - teasing and testing. He cursed under his breath, clearly pleased with what he found there. “You’re so fucking wet already, I think you could take me just like this but I’d like to taste -”

“No,” she shook her head quickly, blindly reaching between them to grip his cock, guiding it to where she was wet and ready for him. “Please.”

The feeling of him settling against her entrance was divine, and her back arched in search for more.

“Wait, fuck.” Azriel stopped all of a sudden. “Condom… they’re in my room. I can just go and…”

Elain locked her legs around him, nails pressed into his shoulder blades to keep him from moving any further away. She couldn’t bear for him to leave. Couldn’t possibly waste one more second with him when they were already so short on time. “It’s okay, I’m on the pill and I haven’t… there’s no one else so if you’re good then I’m good.”

“I’m good, Lain.” Azriel nodded quickly, relaxing a little as he once again situated himself, dragging his cock through her once before he pushed in just the tiniest bit so she could feel that beautiful pinch of initial pressure. “You sure?”

“Yes, fuck, pl-” her words were choked off with a gasp as Azriel pushed into her so slowly, each incredible inch of him sinking into her until there was nowhere else for him to go.

His lips skated over her jaw until they found her own, kissing her sweetly as he withdrew out almost all the way before sliding in again. “There’s no one else, Lain. Just you.”

“Yeah?” Her eyes fluttered open to look at him as he sank into her.

“Yeah, that’s how it’s gonna be now. Isn’t that right, angel?” He whispered as he plunged into her over and over again - slow, decadent drags of his cock that had her whimpering beneath him. “Just you for me and me for you.”

“Yes,” Elain nodded frantically, hips bucking up against his, desperate for more.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” Azriel read her signs and lifted her knee, pushing it up and out to the side, allowing for a deeper fit that had her biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I’m yours. Fuck, fuck, I’m yours.” Elain moaned, lips seeking his mouth for another kiss.

She didn’t know what had gotten into him but she relished in it. Body growing taut at the suggestion of belonging to him. Maybe it was the distance for him as well, the time spent apart, that had him just as crazed as she had been. Just as feral.

It was so good. So fucking incredible to have him like this, so deep inside her, making her feel so unbelievably good that she couldn’t even think straight. It was undeniable that this was more than sex. Despite the carnal urge they’d both felt, this had to be more than just physical desire between them. She couldn’t get enough. Wanted even more.

“Az?” Elain raked her nails up his back, tugging lightly at the hair at the nape of his neck until his eyes were on her. “Will you fuck me?”

She could see the look of confusion in his eyes, the little crinkle on his forehead as if he was trying to figure out if that wasn’t exactly what they were currently doing. It took a second but she could pinpoint the exact moment he caught on to what she meant because his eyes darkened and his lips twitched.

“You want it a little harder, hm? A little rough? I’ll give you whatever you want.” He pulled out of her, kneeling back and nodding as he looked down at her. “Turn over. Get on your knees.”

Elain bit down on the inside of her cheek, nervous anticipation coursing through her as she flipped over as directed. Her hands and knees were on the floor as she turned back to look at him, watching as he knelt behind her, hands kneading her ass . He gave her no warning before lining himself up and pushing into her in one rough, hard thrust - knocking the air clear out of her.

She hadn’t even noticed that she’d made a noise until his chest pressed into her back, his hand covering her mouth as he nipped at a spot just below her ear. “Thought I told you to be quiet.”

She loved him like this. Loved the authority. The dominance. The control. She needed it sometimes and she loved that he did as she wanted, fucking her properly without making her feel like any of the other men she’d been with had made her feel in moments like this. Because for each rough movement, there was praise.

You’re doing so well, angel. Azriel told her as he gripped her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

You feel so fucking good. As he placed a hand between her shoulder blades, pushing her down into the rug to create the perfect arch of her back.

Look how pretty you look when I’m fucking you. So beautiful when you’re taking me. As he fisted her hair, roughly turning her head until she caught their reflection in the mirror hanging on the closet door beside them.

“Az!” Her voice was muffled slightly by the carpet, her eyes hazy as she watched him fuck her - the measured snap of his hips, the flex of his arms as he gripped her hair, her hips, her ass. He was so strong, so assured in his motions as he easily positioned her just how he liked.

She hoped and prayed that these walls were solid enough to block out noise because while she was doing her absolute best to stay quiet, there was nothing to be done about the sound of his skin hitting hers each time he fucked into her. Nothing to be done about the sinful, slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of her given how wet she was.

“What is it, Elain?” He asked. “Tell me what you need.”

“More,” she begged. She didn’t even really know what she wanted but she knew she wanted more of him. More of his touch. More of his words. Just more of him. “I’m so… I’m so close, please, I just need more.”

Azriel slowed his thrusts, pulling gently on her hair until she was up on her knees, her back tight to his chest. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her lips were on his neck tasting the salty skin there.

“Feel like you were made for me.” His arms wound around her. One arm snaking up between her breasts to put slight pressure on her throat as he held her up. The other arm drifted down her torso until his fingers found her throbbing clit, his thumb smoothing quick circles there as he continued to push into her with deep, powerful thrusts. She pulsed around him, her stomach pulling tight as her desire reached a precipice with each stroke of his cock and each tap of his thumb. “There you go, Elain. That’s it.”

“So good. You feel so good.” She murmured, so pleased with the intensity this new position brought. “I’m so close.”

“Come for me, baby.” Azriel urged, his thumb still working her beautifully. “Be a good girl for me and come on my cock, Lain. Can you do that?”

Elain made a small noise of agreement, pushing back onto him to match his thrust, amplifying the feeling of him so deep inside her that she felt him in her belly, stretching her in the best way. It was like he was made to fill her. Made to fuck her.

In the end it was his words that did it - the gentle praise coupled with the rough motion of his hips and his hands. It was Azriel whispering about how well she was taking him that tipped her over the edge. She collapsed back into him with the force of her orgasm, her teeth buried into his neck in a halfhearted attempt to muffle the way she cried out his name.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Ride it out. Take what you need.” His fingers continued to stroke over her, wringing out every last drop of pleasure until she was utterly boneless - absolute putty in his arms as he maneuvered them so that she was on her back again with him between her legs. “Just a little more, okay? I’m right there with you.”

When he dipped down to press his mouth to hers, Elain accepted it greedily as she spread her legs apart and welcomed him in. She was so sensitive, aftershocks of her orgasm still pulsing through her as he entered her again. She savoured the way their tongues slid together, moaning quietly as he lifted her hips and fucked into her quickly until his own hips started to falter.

“Where do you want it, Lain?” Azriel asked, voice gravelly as he attempted to hold himself together.

“Anywhere. Wherever you want.” Elain told him, meaning every word. He could do whatever he wanted and she’d let him. He could come on her stomach, her breasts. Even her face if that would please him. But there was really only one place that felt right at this moment. One place that caused her to tense around him as if to wordlessly suggest the idea. “Inside me. Come inside me.”

She heard him groan at the suggestion, a string of low curses flying out of his mouth at her words. “Want it inside you? Want me to fill you up?”

“Yes,” Elain wrapped her legs around him, pulling him further into her. Showing him exactly how much she wanted it. “I’m yours, Azriel.”

He said her name as he came, hips stilling as his forehead pressed to her chest. She could feel it, the warm sensation, the jerk of his cock as he gave her everything he had until there was no room left for it all. Elain felt it on her thighs, felt it seep out of where they were still joined.

“God,” Azriel moaned in disbelief, head still buried against her chest as he attempted to regulate his breathing. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Elain agreed, threading her fingers through his hair as she gently untangled her legs from his waist. He grabbed his t-shirt from where it was laying next to them, dabbing it against her thighs as he pulled out of her - ensuring nothing spilled from her onto the rug beneath them.

There were no words for what just happened. No possible way to summarise everything she felt in that moment. She’d never felt like that before. It was almost too good to be true how unbelievable it was. How incredible he’d made her feel. She couldn’t believe how much time they’d wasted not doing that.

They laid there for ages, neither of them able to find the energy to make it to bed. Instead, Azriel reached up and pulled a couple pillows to the floor along with a blanket, draping it over their naked bodies before pulling her into him. Her breasts against his chest. Her legs entwined with his.

They exchanged kisses in between whispered conversation- slow and heated - hands tracing and grasping until it was inevitable that somehow neither of them were ready to stop. It wasn’t long until Elain was on top of him, breathy moans slipping from both their lips as lowered himself onto his cock, riding him slowly. Grinding against him, taking her time drawing out their pleasure until they couldn’t possibly take it anymore and they both finished with stifled moans.

“Az?” Elain broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them afterwards, her finger stroking along his jaw as his own fingertips traced soothing patterns down her arm.

Azriel hummed, sleepy eyes fluttering open.

It made her heart skip a beat - how beautiful he was like this - sex tousled hair and tired hazel eyes. Lips swollen, the dim moonlight illuminating his sweat slicked, tan skin. He was like a piece of art and she couldn’t believe how lucky she was to be the one to see him like this. To be the one that had messed up his hair and bitten his lips.

“My necklace,” she forced herself to focus, swallowing nervously before she continued. “I never asked when you gave it to me but I’ve always wondered… the letter on the back…”

Elain trailed off, watching carefully as Azriel tilted his head back further into the pillow sandwiched between his head and the floor. She bit back a smile as a warm flush of colour crept up his neck and seeped into his cheeks. He’d caught on quick to where she was headed with this inquiry and his reaction was enough to hint at what his answer would be.

“The ‘A’ on the back isn’t for my last name is it?”

“No,” Azriel answered quietly, his hand drifting from her arm. “No, it’s not.”

Her breath hitched in her throat as his fingers smoothed over her sternum, sliding in between her breasts until he reached the pendant. He flipped it over, thumb pressing into the small letter hidden there like a secret.

“Do you engrave your initial onto all the jewellery you make?” She asked.

“You know I don’t,” he answered. The initial signs of embarrassment were gone from his face and in its place was an unabashed, earnest honesty. “That was just for you.”

“Why?”

“You really don’t know, Lain?” He shook his head, tugging on the pendant gently. “I knew I couldn’t have you the way I wanted. Didn’t think I’d ever get the chance… so I thought I’d give you just a little piece of me. I suppose I liked the idea of my initial being right here. Against your skin. Close to your heart.”

As if to punctuate his words, he did just that - pressing the oval into her skin just as she’d done time and time again over the years in an attempt to steady herself in moments where she needed comfort.

She knew. Of course, she knew that the letter on the back hadn’t really been for her last name. She’d seen the way his eyes fixated on it each and every time he saw her since he’d first put the necklace on her. Noticed the way he’d relax when he saw that she was still wearing it year after year.

It was a relief to know that all this time, what she’d secretly hoped to be true was actually true.

“You’ve got a possessive streak, huh?” She didn’t know what else to say so she settled for the safe option of making a joke. Everything else that fought to leave her mouth would be too honest. Far too much, far too soon. “All that talk earlier about being yours…”

“I meant it,” he slipped his hand further up her neck, up to her jaw. His hold on her was loose but still, her blood heated with the suggestion behind the action. “We don’t need to put a label on anything. We can keep this quiet, keep it between us. But if we’re doing this then there’ll be no one else. Not for me. Not for you.”

“So we’re doing this, then?” she asked, finally breaching the question that had been hovering between them like a grenade over the past few months. “We’re… exclusive?”

“Yes, Elain.” Azriel laughed, lips hovering over hers as his thumb smoothed over the expanse of her throat. “We’re exclusive.”

She closed the distance between them, her lips pressed to his as Azriel rolled her onto her back and used his knee to guide her legs apart for the third time that night.

#elriel fic #everywhere everything #my writing #elain x azriel #modern au #acotar fanfiction #elriel fanfic #elriel smut #azriel smut #posting at an unfamiliar time so idk if you see this you see this lol #im SCARED #long time no smut

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