#walk across hot coals

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

OHHHOHOHOOOOOOO

Commission for the lovely @agentturtlecupcake of Sunflower and Gen!! I loved drawing them, oh gosh, look how cute they are ;_;

[orcelito]

Ykno the suckiest thing about being broken up with for someone else is that like. Well I'm doing generally fine, all things considered, but I Am kinda sad thinking about the things I've lost and all the casual affection that I can't have now.

But she's out there having all the affection she wants from her coworker, and it's just like. Damn this feels so skewed and SO unfair.

[amphibiangeorgerussel]

toto missing the podium bc he was facetiming susie oh he's down bad fr

[8n53]

dejapans site was too confusing and i didnt realize they were keeping my fucking blackbright doujins in storage and now i have over a month of late fees . haha . Oh No

[appocalipse]

the same thing ・❥・b. barnes

summary: during a mission, you put yourself in harm's way to protect bucky. back at the avengers compound, he wants to know why. | 1.4k words, angst with a happy ending

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"You should be resting."

You don't turn your head as the familiar voice comes from behind you, too focused on the delicate art of making the perfect sandwich to look away. You are a woman on a mission. "I was hungry."

A few seconds later, he's standing next to you, leaning back against the countertop with arms folded across his broad chest. "It's been less than twelve hours since they patched you up."

He's not going to stop hovering, you realize, because that's what Bucky does when he's worried.

"Want half?" Maybe you can distract him with food.

He regards the towering monstrosity on the cutting board and the chaotic layers of meat, cheese, and veggies sticking out at all angles.

You can't help but grin as you slap another slice of bread on top. "A quarter, then?"

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. "I'm not eating that thing."

You cradle the plate in your left hand, holding the sandwich with your right, and give him a pointed look. "Your loss."

Bucky just watches, arms still crossed, as you take a huge bite. His blue eyes remain narrowed, his mouth pressed into a thin line. He's like a one-man intervention waiting to happen. You shrug and wander over to the kitchen table.

Sitting down is a bit of an effort. The wound on your side pulls as you slowly lower yourself onto the chair, but if you can keep from grimacing too hard, Bucky won't be able to tell, will he?

Your smile probably gives you away. He narrows his eyes further. "Why did you do that?"

"Because I'm hungry?"

"No." Bucky takes a step forward. "I meant why did you get between me and that shot?"

Good question. The answer is embarrassing and you'd sooner walk barefoot over hot coals than tell him the truth.

"Hm?"

Another step. "I have superhuman healing powers."

"I'll live."

"It was stupid."

"You're ruining my—ow," you mutter, dropping the sandwich as you instinctively put your hand over your bandage. There goes the carefully maintained poker face. You force yourself to remove your hand and look up at Bucky with what you hope is an innocent expression, even as your side throbs in protest. "My sandwich. You're ruining my sandwich. Are you sure you don't want a bite?"

Bucky is too smart to take the bait. He moves around the table, coming to stand in front of you. The whole 'arms-crossed-stern-glare' thing again. It would be intimidating if you didn't know him so well.

"You could've been killed," he's like a dog with a bone, you swear.

"But I wasn't," you say pointedly. "I'm fine."

"Fine? You were shot."

"Will you just let it go? It doesn't even...hurt...that much," you lie.

It will take a while for the super-soldier serum in your blood — a weaker variation of the same stuff that runs through Bucky's veins — to kick in and accelerate your healing.

Bucky exhales. He looks about ready to give you an earful, but then his gaze shifts and he notices the way you're holding your side, how stiffly you're sitting.

You move your traitorous hand away like you've been burned.

"How bad is it?"

"Huh?" you say in a deliberately casual tone. "It's...totally fine. Not bad, really. Don't worry. I don't even feel it."

There's the reason why you've never been a spy. You can't lie to save your life, apparently.

Or maybe just not to Bucky.

"Okay. It hurts, like, just a little bit...like—like not even hurts hurts, just..." you trail off with a grimace as he comes closer. "More of an itch?"

"An itch?" Bucky sounds dubious.

"More of a burn," you concede. "A...mildly annoying but totally manageable sort of a burn."

"You are a terrible liar."

"Okay, so it hurts," you snap, the last vestiges of your patience vanishing. "I have an extensive hole in my side, I get it. It's not—I don't want you to feel bad about it. It's really not terrible, I can take it."

Bucky shakes his head. "What if it had been worse? What if they'd shot you somewhere vital?"

"They didn't."

"But what if they had?"

"Then I would have died!"

Bucky looks at you like you just kicked him. "Yeah. That's what I'm trying to say."

You open your mouth, then close it.

"You think I want that?" he asks softly.

"No." You suddenly feel very small. "Of course not, I just...just..."

"Just what?"

"I don't know," you admit with a sigh. "It's just that you are...people need you, you know? And you have a life, people who care about you, but I'm just..."

A nobody. A girl with no past, who can barely make sense of her present.

"...it would be better if it was me. That's all."

"It would never be better if you were hurt."

"Bucky—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he asks in a low voice. "People need you too."

You roll your eyes. "Please. You mean the team?"

"Me," Bucky says pointedly. "You think it's easy for me? When you get hurt? It kills me."

The sandwich lays forgotten on the table, squashed flat under your clasped hands. "It...kills you?"

He just looks at you for a long moment.

Your heart flutters in your chest. You have a sudden, intense urge to break the silence with a terrible joke, a quip, something light and witty to dispel the heaviness in the air and make this moment go away. But before you can open your mouth, Bucky shakes his head.

"You kill me."

Okay, that's not where you thought this was going. "What?"

"When you say stuff like that. When you make it sound like you don't matter, like it's okay for you to get hurt. Or worse. It's not."

Oh.

"Bucky," you try again, with a more serious tone. "I don't—"

"Stop saying that," he cuts you off.

You realize your mouth is still hanging open and snap it shut.

"You want to know what I think?" Bucky is so close now you could reach out and touch him, if you were brave enough. "I think that you got this...thing in your head, that you're not good enough, or strong enough, or that you're broken somehow. I think that you forget that it's okay to want things. I think that maybe you think nobody needs you. That no one wants you."

You swallow. You're afraid to say anything, to move, because your heart is hammering against your ribs and Bucky is looking at you like he can see straight into your soul.

"But I do."

"Do...what?" you whisper.

"Want you."

It's the last thing you expect to hear. "Bucky, you don't mean that."

His voice drops an octave. "Don't tell me what I mean."

Your cheeks are burning. You feel pinned under his gaze. Your side is throbbing again and you have a mouthful of butterflies and it's all just too much.

You move to get up but only make it halfway before the wound pulls again and you wince. "Shit."

"Where do you think you're going?" Bucky reaches out to help you, one hand braced against your shoulder as you sink back down into the chair. His expression has softened. "You need to rest."

You really want to kiss him right now.

It's the closest he's ever been to you, perhaps. You can feel his breath on your face.

"I need to...? You really confuse me, Barnes."

"How so?"

"Well, first you tell me that I kill you, and then you say you want me. It's kind of a mixed message—"

"I'm not interested in being just friends with you," Bucky cuts you off abruptly. "Is that clear enough?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. There's a warm, tingling sensation in your chest and you suddenly can't breathe properly. "That's—you—"

Bucky smirks, just a little. He looks almost...proud of himself? Like he's happy he's rendered you speechless for once.

You decide to take a page from his book and put him on the spot. "And what do you think I want?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, leaning even closer. "But I hope it's the same thing."

His lips brush against yours, soft and gentle. He pulls away and you want to chase after him but then he's back again and kissing you harder this time, all teeth and tongue and ragged breathing and heat.

You close your eyes. Your head is spinning and you can't get enough air but you're kissing him back now, both hands coming up to fist in his shirt, holding on for dear life.

His mouth trails down your neck, leaving hot kisses along your jawline. You let out a breathy sigh.

"Is that...supposed to help me heal faster, mhm?"

Bucky just smiles against your skin.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Watermelon Sugar

Dbf/neighbor/daddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,522

Summary: At the annual neighborhood barbecue, you can't ignore the sparks flying between you and Joel Miller, your dad's best friend. What starts as playful flirting leads to a secret, steamy encounter that leaves you both wanting more.

Warnings: 18+, age gap, unprotected p in v, m! oral recieving, soft but dom daddy!Joel, Joel calls reader baby and sunflower, use of daddy, light choking, hair pulling, and spanking. And a lil aftercare. Reader has hair and wears a bikini.

Notes: I've been slow over here and a little inactive due to adulting ughhh, but thank you all for your love and support 🥰 I truly appreciate all of you! tysm @joelslegalwhre & @evolnoomym beta reading for me. Smooching you both forever. Divider by @saradika-graphics

You stand in front of your mirror, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. The annual neighborhood barbecue is a tradition you've always looked forward to, but this year, it feels different. Ever since you can remember, Joel Miller has been a fixture in your life—a man who could make you laugh with a single look and who always seemed to know when you needed a friend. But lately, the glances you exchange feel charged with something new, something you're not quite ready to name.

As you dab on a bit of perfume, you catch your dad's voice in the hallway, calling out that he's heading over to Joel's early to help set up.

“Be there soon!” You yell back.

—

As you step out of your front door, the warm summer breeze brushes against your skin, carrying with it the mouth-watering aroma of grilled meat and freshly cooked burgers from the neighborhood barbecue, hosted by none other than Joel Miller - your dad's best friend and neighbor, the one youve had a crush on forever. You can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach as you walk towards his house, knowing that he will be there waiting for you.

Your heart races as you approach the familiar scene; tables filled with food and drinks, kids running around playing games, and adults chatting animatedly under the shade of trees. You spot Joel standing near the grill, his broad shoulders moving up and down as he expertly flips burgers on the sizzling hot coals. His tanned skin glistens with sweat from all his hard work preparing for today's event.

"Hey there!" Your dad calls out when he sees you approaching. "Just in time! We were just about to start eating."

You take a moment to admire Joel's form; how strong yet gentle he looks handling those flaming hot coals like they were nothing more than pebbles in a stream; how those little black shorts sit on his body just right, how that white baggy shirt hangs over his big broad shoulders hugging his thick neck just right. Damn it. Why does he have to look so good?

As you draw closer, the heat from the grill is almost as intense as the warmth that spreads through you at the sight of Joel. His head looks up for a moment as he sees you approach, a wide grin spreading across his face.

You take a plate from the stack and start to serve yourself, trying to keep your hands from shaking. The array of food is impressive: potato salad, corn on the cob, fresh fruit, and an assortment of desserts that would make any food lover weak in the knees. But your focus is on the grill, where Joel is now plating a burger that looks like a work of art.

"Here ya go, sunflower," he says. The nickname, worn in like a favorite pair of jeans from years of use, still makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. "I added a secret sauce.” He whispers, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Tell me if it's as good as I think it is.” He winks, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, and you can't help but feel a flutter in your chest.

As you take the burger from Joel, your fingers touch briefly, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You try to brush it off as static, but deep down, you know it's more than that. You take a bite of the burger, and the flavors explode on your tongue. The sauce is tangy and sweet, perfectly complementing the grilled meat's smoky flavor.

"Mmm," you moan, closing your eyes in appreciation. "This is incredible."

Joel's eyes light up with pride. "M’glad you like it." His eyes follow every movement of your lips, every chew, every swallow. It's as if he's savoring every moment of this interaction.

You try to ignore the flutter in your chest, telling yourself it's just appreciation for a good meal. But deep down, you know it's more than that. Joel has always been kind to you, always looked out for you, but now, as your eyes lock in a silent understanding, you sense something different. Something forbidden.

"So, you really like the sauce?" he inquires, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wipes his brow with the back of his hand. The gruffness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine despite the summer heat.

You nod eagerly, your taste buds still dancing from the burst of flavors. "Mhmmm! What’s in it?”

Joel chuckles. "That's top-secret information, darlin', Ain't gettin’ it outta me that easy."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you walk behind the grill and up to Joel. “How about we make a deal? You give me the secret sauce recipe, and I'll show you something I know you wanna see.”

"Alright, you've got my attention."

Slowly, with deliberate grace, you begin to lift your shirt just enough for him to catch sight of the vibrant pattern of your bikini top beneath—your fingers deftly move towards one side strap of this bikini top; teasingly pulling at it as if contemplating revealing even more than intended

"Fuck - " he breathes out, quickly shaking his head to compose himself before grabbing your arm to stop you. "Your dad's right there, the hell you doin'?”

With a mischievous wink, you let the strap snap back into place, leaving just enough to his imagination. "Maybe later then," you tease “If you wanna see the rest come find me Mr. Miller.”

Joel watches you step back and saunter away towards the pool, your words hanging in the air like a challenge. The playful sway of your hips is hypnotic, and he can't help but stare as you make your way over to the pool. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of desire that's clouding his judgment. "Christ," he mutters under his breath, turning his attention back to the grill, but the sizzle of the meat does little to drown out the sound of your laughter carried in the breeze.

He glances over at you, watching as you settle by the pool, your legs dangling in the water. You're a vision, your hair catching the sunlight, your smile bright and inviting. He tries to focus on the task at hand, serving people, and making small talk, but his eyes keep drifting back to you. He can't help it; you're like a magnet, drawing him in against his better judgment.

He watches as you reach for a slice of watermelon on your plate, its vibrant red color promising a burst of sweetness. The juicy fruit is cool and refreshing in the summer heat. As you take a bite, the watermelon's juice is so abundant that it escapes your lips, trickling down your chin.

In an attempt to catch the runaway droplets, you quickly bring your hand up to your face. But in your haste, another stream of juice breaks free, trailing a path down your neck and disappearing into the valley between your breasts. The sensation of the cool liquid against your heated skin makes you gasp softly, making Joel groan under his breath. He watches you with an intensity that borders on feral. His grip tightens around the spatula he's holding as he takes in the sight of you, flustered and trying to contain the watermelon's sweet rebellion. His mind races with images he knows he shouldn't entertain—images of him licking away those sticky trails left by nature's candy on your skin; his hands following suit to ensure not a single drop is wasted; his lips tasting every inch they cover until there's no trace of watermelon left.

His body reacts before he can stop it—a sudden twitch in his pants that thankfully goes unnoticed by everyone else due to his strategically placed apron tied securely around his waist. He takes a deep breath to regain control over his runaway thoughts while simultaneously adjusting himself discreetly under the cover of fabric.

Taking the opportunity to step away from the grill, Joel grabs a cold Corona from the cooler, the bottle sweating as much as he is. He approaches you but stops for a split second to watch you. The sight of you lying there, your body still glistening with juices, makes his heart race.

"Thought ya might be thirsty," he says, handing you the beer, his voice deeper than usual.

You look up as he approaches, your eyes sparkling with mischief. "Took you long enough," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice as you take the beer and sip it.

He sits down beside you, his heart pounding in his chest. "You're playin’ with fire, y’know that sweetheart?" he warns.

You just smirk, leaning back in your chair, your gaze locked onto his like a little puppy.

"You keep lookin' at me like that, and we're gonna have a problem," Joel says, his voice a low rumble.

"What if I want a problem?"

His intake of breath is sharp, and you can see the effect your words have on him. His jaw clenches, and there's a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes—something that tells you he's teetering on the edge of control. You watch as Joel quickly gets up from his chair and walks away. He rounds the corner of the house before disappearing.

You wait for a moment before you put your beer down beside the one he left and casually stand up to follow him.

Around the side of the house, away from prying eyes, Joel is leaning against the wall, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The moment he sees you, his eyes darken.

"What are we doin' here?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close the distance between you, your body brushing against his. "Something we both want," you reply confidently, your hand coming up to rest on his chest.

He captures your wrist, his grip firm but gentle. "This is wrong," he murmurs, though the conviction in his voice is wavering.

"Does it feel wrong?" You challenge, your fingers tracing the contours of his muscles through his shirt.

For a moment, he doesn't respond, his gaze dropping to your lips. Then, with a groan of surrender, he closes the gap between you, his mouth crashing onto yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. His hands roam your body, exploring every curve as if he's memorizing you by touch. You respond with equal fervor, your hands tangling in his hair as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. The taste of him, a mix of beer and the sweet tang of barbeque sauce, drives you wild.

Suddenly, Joel breaks the kiss, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "We can't do this here," he says, glancing around to make sure no one has followed you.

You nod, your breath hitching as you realize the gravity of what you're about to do. "Then take me somewhere we can," you whisper back, your hand slipping into his.

With a groan that sounds almost pained, Joel takes a step back, pulling you with him as he leads you away from the party and towards the detached garage at the end of the driveway. His grip on your hand is firm, almost possessive, sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

The inside of the garage is cool and dimly lit compared to the bright sunlight outside. It's filled with tools and gardening equipment—a testimony to Joel's many hobbies. The door lightly closes shut behind you, sealing out the world and the sounds of the party. The air is thick with the scent of oil and wood, a heady mixture that only adds to the intoxicating atmosphere. Joel wastes no time, pressing you against the cool metal of a parked truck, his body a solid wall of heat against yours.

"You've been drivin’ me crazy all day," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Teasin’ me like that in front of everyone."

You can feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against you, and it sends a shiver of excitement down your spine.

His lips crash onto yours once again, demanding and dominant. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. You can feel his stubble rough against your skin.

"You're playin’ a dangerous game, baby," he murmurs against your mouth.

He spins you around roughly, pressing your chest against the truck's hood. You can feel the cool metal against your overheated skin. His hands tangle in your hair, giving it a gentle tug that sends a jolt of pleasure and pain straight to your core.

"Tell me whatcha want," he commands, his voice a low rumble in your ear.

"You," you gasp, arching your back to press closer to him. "I want you, Joel."

He rewards you with a slow grind of his hips against yours, the friction making you moan. "You want me to fuck ya, sunflower?" he asks, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes," you whimper, your hands gripping the edge of the hood for support. "Please, Joel."

He chuckles darkly, his lips tracing a path down the side of your neck. "Beggin’ already? I thought you liked playin’ hard to get." You feel his teeth nip at your skin as he speaks. Your body trembles with need, your breathing coming out in short bursts. You don't understand why this feels so right, but you don't question it anymore. "Stay still," he orders, his voice firm.

You force yourself to comply, your body trembling with anticipation. He takes his time, his fingers tracing maddeningly slow patterns on your skin. When he finally reaches beneath the fabric of your bikini top to palm your breast, you can't help but let out a moan of relief.

"That's it," he encourages, his thumb circling your nipple. "Let me hear how much you want this."

His other hand slides down your body, slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. You're already so wet for him, and when his fingers brush against your clit, you can't help but buck your hips.

"Fuck, you're so responsive," he groans, his fingers circling the sensitive bundle of nerves. You're panting now, desperate for release. But he denies you, pulling his hand away just as you're about to tip over the edge. "Not yet," he says, his voice stern. "You don't come till I tell ya to."

He spins you around once again, his eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of you. "I wanna see you baby," he says, his hands tugging at your shorts. "All of you."

You help him undress you, your hands shaking with need. Once you're standing before him in nothing but your bikini, he takes a step back to admire his handiwork.

"Goddamn, you're beautiful," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Now, get on your knees."

You do as he says, the concrete floor cool against your skin. You hear the zip of his pants and then them falling to the ground along with his boxers as he steps forward, his hands fisting in your hair guiding you to his cock. "Open up," he commands, his voice gruff. "Show me how much you want this."

You part your lips obediently, taking him into your mouth. He's big and hard, and the taste of him is intoxicating. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, eliciting a groan from above and then take him entirely until he's hitting the back of your throat.

"That's it, sunflower," he praises, his hips thrusting gently. "Just like that."

You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his as you take him deeper. His grip on your hair tightens, and you can tell he's struggling to last. "Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth," he says, his voice strained.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense under your touch as you bob your head, taking him deeper with each stroke. The salty taste of his arousal mixes with the lingering sweetness of the watermelon, creating a heady combination that has you moaning around his length.

"Feels so damn good baby," Joel groans, his voice echoing in the quiet garage. His eyes are locked on yours, filled with a raw, unfiltered desire that sends a thrill through you. You feel his thighs quiver under your hands, and you know he's close. But before he can reach his peak, he gently pulls you away, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop.

"Up," he commands as he pulls you to your feet, his hands roaming your body once again. He unties your bikini top, letting it fall to the ground, and then he's cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your nipples. "Tell me you want this," he says, his eyes searching yours. "Tell me you want me to fuck you baby."

"I want it," you assure him, your voice trembling with need. "I want you to fuck me, Joel."

With a growl, he lifts you onto the hood of the truck and with a hunger in his eyes that matches your own, Joel hooks his fingers into the sides of your bikini bottoms, his gaze never leaving yours as he slowly begins to peel them away. The fabric slides down your legs, leaving you completely exposed to him. He tosses the bikini bottoms aside, his hands returning to grip your thighs, spreading them apart as he steps closer.

"You're so fuckin' wet for me," he murmurs approvingly, his fingers tracing the seam of your cunt. You can feel yourself growing warm at his words, but you don't have time to feel self-conscious because he's leaning in, capturing your lips in another searing kiss as his fingers continue their exploration.

One finger circles your entrance before pushing inside, making you gasp into the kiss. He adds another finger, stretching you deliciously as he establishes a rhythm that has you writhing on the hood of the truck. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in time with his thrusting fingers.

"Joel," you moan, your hands fisting in his shirt as pleasure builds within you. "Please..."

He chuckles against your mouth, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you. "Please, what?" he teases, even as he adds another finger, filling you even more. "Tell me what you need."

"I need... I need you inside me," you pant out, barely able to form coherent thoughts with the way he's playing your body like a finely tuned instrument.

Joel's eyes darken at your words, and he withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and needy.

You ready for me, sunflower?" he asks, positioning himself at your entrance.

You nod eagerly, your body aching for him. "Yes, please."

With a groan, he pushes forward, filling you in one slow, deliberate thrust. The sensation of being stretched and filled by him is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out at the intensity of it. He stills for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his size.

"Fuck," he groans. "You feel even better than I imagined."

As the initial shock of your union subsides, Joel begins to move, his hips setting a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust is a sweet invasion, a claim that leaves you breathless and begging for more.

"Look at me," Joel commands, his voice gruff with need. You lock eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze searing into your soul. "Who do you belong to?" he asks, his pace increasing with each word.

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with implication. You know the answer he wants, the answer that feels right in this moment. "You," you gasp out, your voice barely above a whisper. "I belong to you, Daddy."

A shudder runs through Joel at the sound of the word Daddy falling from your lips. "That's right," he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he drives into you with renewed vigor. "You're mine, sunflower. Say it again."

"I'm yours, Daddy," you moan louder this time, surrendering yourself to him completely.

The words, once taboo, now feel like a secret language between the two of you. With each thrust, Joel reaffirms his claim on you, his movements becoming more frenzied as he chases his release.

"Harder," you beg, your nails digging into the flesh of his back. "I need more."

He responds with a growl, increasing the intensity of his thrusts. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes in the garage, mingling with your cries of pleasure and his grunts of exertion. "Is this what ya need?" he pants, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Yes," you cry out, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. "More... I need all of you."

In response to your plea, Joel reaches up and wraps his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your heart race and your head spin. The sensation of being restrained by him sends a jolt of adrenaline coursing through your veins. It's a thrilling mix of fear and excitement that heightens the pleasure coursing through your body.

"You like that baby?" he rasps out, his eyes searching yours for confirmation even as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. "You like it when Daddy chokes you while he fucks your pretty little cunt?"

You nod as much as his grip will allow, your breath coming in short gasps as stars dance behind your closed eyelids. "Yes," you manage to choke out.

The world around you seems to blur into a haze of pleasure and desire as Joel continues to claim your body with an almost feral intensity. His grip on your throat remains firm, yet gentle enough not to cause harm, serving as a potent reminder of his control over you. The sensation of his fingers wrapped around your neck only adds to the overwhelming tide of ecstasy that's building within you.

"Come on, sunflower, come for me." Joel grunts, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "Wanna feel this pretty little pussy squeezin’ Daddy's cock.”

His words are the final push you need. With a cry that echoes off the walls of the garage, your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, causing your entire body to convulse with the force of it. Your inner muscles clamp down around Joel's shaft, milking him as he continues to drive into you with powerful thrusts.

As the waves of your orgasm begin to subside, Joel isn't done with you yet. He pulls out, leaving you feeling momentarily empty, but before you can protest, he's flipping you over onto your stomach with a strength that leaves you breathless. Your body is still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax as he roughly pulls you up, positioning himself behind you.

"You think we're done?" he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I ain't even close to being finished with this sexy body of yours."

His hands grip your hips tightly as he lines himself up with your entrance once again. With one powerful thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely and causing you to cry out in a mix of pleasure and surprise. The new angle allows him to go even deeper than before, hitting spots that make your toes curl and your breath hitch in your throat.

"Fuck," he groans, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he sets a brutal pace that has the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the garage. "You feel so fuckin' good like this."

One hand releases its grip on your hip and tangles in your hair instead, pulling it just hard enough to tilt your head back and expose the long line of your neck. His lips find the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder, kissing and nipping at it as he continues to pound into you from behind.

"Such a good girl," he praises between thrusts, his voice a low rumble against your skin. "Takin’ Daddy's cock so well.”

His other hand comes down on the curve of your ass with a sharp smack that makes you gasp and push back against him for more. The sting of the slap only adds to the overwhelming sensation of fullness as he drives into you again and again. Each smack is followed by a soothing caress that sends shivers down your spine and makes a heat pool low in your belly once more.

"You like it when I spank this naughty little ass?" Joel asks wickedly as his hand comes down on the other cheek, this time eliciting another moan from deep within you. "Answer me, baby girl."

"Yes," you manage to gasp out between thrusts, your body shaking under his relentless assault . "I love it when you spank me, Daddy.”

The sound of your admission seems to spur Joel on even more. His thrusts become wilder, more uncontrolled, as he chases his own release. The hand in your hair tightens, pulling your head back further, forcing you to arch your back and take him even deeper. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can feel another orgasm building within you, a tidal wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

"That's it, baby girl," Joel growls, his voice ragged with desire. "Come for me one more time."

His words are all it takes to send you tumbling over the edge once more. Your body convulses beneath him, your inner walls clamping down around his shaft as wave after wave of pleasure courses through you.

Joel lets out a guttural groan as he feels your orgasm milk his own from him. His hips stutter against yours as he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his release. You can feel the warmth of his seed filling you, marking you his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, the only sounds in the garage are the ragged gasps of your breathing and the pounding of your hearts. Slowly, Joel releases his grip on your hair and hip, his hands gently caressing the skin he'd so roughly manhandled just moments before.

"You okay, sunflower?" he asks, his voice soft and filled with concern as he carefully withdraws from your body.

You nod, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you manage to say, your voice shaky but filled with a satisfaction that you've never felt before. "I'm good. More than good."

Joel chuckles softly, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck. "You're more than good, baby girl. You're incredible."

He helps you to your feet, his arms wrapping around you to steady you when your legs threaten to give out beneath you. His eyes scan your body, taking in the marks he's left on your skin—the redness where his fingers had gripped you, the faint handprint on your ass, the love bites that dot your neck and shoulders.

"Let's get ya cleaned up," he says, his tone gentle as he leads you over to an old sink in the corner of the garage. He turns on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before wetting a clean rag and using it to gently wipe away the evidence of what just happend.

You watch him, your heart swelling with emotion as you take in the tenderness of his actions. This is a side of Joel you've never seen before—a side that's caring and attentive, a side that makes you feel cherished and loved.

Once he's satisfied that you're clean, he helps you dress, his hands lingering on your skin with each article of clothing he helps you into. When you're fully clothed again, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"You're so beautiful, sunflower," he murmurs, his voice filled with awe and admiration. "Inside and out."

The warmth of Joel's embrace and the tenderness in his voice make your heart flutter with a mixture of joy and trepidation. You're standing in a moment that feels both surreal and more real than anything you've ever experienced.

"Joel," you say, your voice still shaky from the intensity of your encounter, "what does this mean for us now?"

He pulls back slightly, his hands cupping your face as he looks into your eyes with an intensity that takes your breath away. "It means," he begins, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently, "that I can't ignore these feelings any longer. It means that I want to be with you, truly be with you, in every sense of the word."

Your heart leaps at his words, but reality quickly sets in. "But what about my dad? What about everything else?"

Joel nods, understanding the weight of your concerns. "I know it's complicated," he admits. "And I don't have all the answers right now. But I do know that I can't go back to pretending there's nothing between us, that you're just my best friend's daughter.”

You smile at that, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "So... where do we go from here?"

"First," he says with a grin, "we get back to that barbecue before your dad sends out a search party." He gives you one last lingering kiss before stepping back to survey the scene. "Then we figure this out together—away from pryin’ eyes and family gatherings."

With a nod of agreement, you follow Joel out of the garage, your hand securely tucked in his. The world outside seems different now—brighter, more vibrant, as if your encounter has somehow altered your perception of reality. The sounds of laughter and music from the barbecue drift towards you, a stark contrast to the intimate silence you've just left behind.

As you approach the party, Joel gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. "We'll take this one step at a time," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the noise of the gathering. "Okay?"

You nod, grateful for his presence and his promise. Together, you reenter the party, blending seamlessly into the crowd as if nothing has changed. But everything has changed, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the secret you now share with Joel.

Throughout the afternoon, you catch each other's eyes from across the yard, exchanging knowing smiles, and subtle touches whenever possible. Your dad, none the wiser, chats happily with neighbors and friends, his laughter mingling with the sounds of summer.

As the sun begins to set, casting a warm golden glow over the neighborhood, you find yourself standing next to Joel by the grill once more. He hands you another beer, his fingers brushing against yours in a silent gesture of affection.

"So," he says, nudging you gently with his elbow, "how's that secret sauce treatin ya?"

You can't help but chuckle, the memory of your earlier exchange bringing a flush to your cheeks. "I think it's safe to say it's the best sauce I've ever had," you reply with a wink, taking a sip of your beer to hide your smile.

Joel laughs, shaking his head in amusement. "Well, I don't know about that," he teases. "I might have to give you a few more samples before you can make such a bold claim.”

But before you can retort, your dad saunters over to join you by the grill. He claps Joel on the back affectionately and turns to address both of you.

"You two look like you're up to no good," he says with a smile. "What are you plotting over here?"

Your heart skips a beat at his words—does he suspect something?—but Joel seems unfazed as he throws an arm around your dad's shoulders with brotherly affection.

"Just discussing some top-secret barbecue business," Joel replies smoothly, giving your dad a reassuring squeeze before releasing him and turning back to tend to the grill once more.

—

Eventually, as the crowd begins to thin and the night grows deeper, your dad announces that it's time to start cleaning up. You join in, helping to gather plates and cups and fold tables, all the while feeling Joel's gaze on you.

Once the last of the guests have said their goodbyes and the yard is returned to its peaceful state, your dad claps Joel on the back, thanking him for another successful barbecue. "You outdid yourself this year, Joel," he says with a smile.

Joel returns the smile, though his eyes flicker to you for a brief moment. "Always happy to host," he replies, his voice steady despite the undercurrent of emotion that passes between you two.

Your dad turns to you, his eyes tired but content. "I'm gonna head home, kiddo. You coming, or are you gonna help Joel clean up?"

You glance at Joel, who gives you a small nod, understanding the silent question in your eyes. "I'll stay and help out, Dad," you say, your voice calm and composed. "You go get some rest."

Your dad chuckles, shaking his head. "Always the responsible one, just like your mother. Alright, I'll see you in the morning."

With a final wave, your dad heads off down the street, leaving you and Joel alone under the starlit sky. The moment his figure disappears into the distance, the air between you seems to crackle with anticipation.

Joel steps closer, his eyes searching yours. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and intimate.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'm good. Just... processing everything, I guess."

He reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "We don't have to figure it all out tonight," he says softly. "But I want you to know what happened between us... it wasn't a one-time thing for me."

Your heart swells at his words, the warmth of his touch igniting a fire within you. "It wasn't for me, either," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you simply stand there, lost in each other's gaze, the world around you fading into insignificance. Then, with a shared look of understanding, you both begin to tidy up the remaining mess, working side by side in comfortable silence.

When the last dish is washed and put away, and the yard is once again pristine, Joel takes your hand, leading you to the porch swing. The night is quiet now, save for the distant sound of a dog barking and the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

You sit down next to him, the swing creaking slightly under your combined weight. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you close as you both look up at the stars.

As you sit there, nestled under Joel's arm, the stars twinkle above, casting a serene glow over the quiet neighborhood. You feel a sense of peace and contentment that you've never experienced before, a feeling of being exactly where you're meant to be.

"It's beautiful tonight," you murmur, your head resting against Joel's shoulder.

“It sure is," he agrees, his voice a soft rumble. But when you tilt your head back to look at him, you realize he's not looking at the stars. He's looking at you. His eyes trace the contours of your face, drinking in every detail as if to memorize you, to etch this moment into his memory forever. The corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, a silent indication of the smile he wears in his heart, a smile that reaches out to you, enveloping you in its embrace.

"Joel..." you begin, unsure of what to say next. There are a million thoughts swirling in your head, a million questions about what the future holds for the two of you.

He seems to sense your unease and gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We'll figure it out, sunflower," he assures you again.

You take a deep breath, letting the comforting weight of Joel's arm around you anchor you to the present moment. The uncertainty of the future looms ahead, but for now, you choose to bask in the warmth of his affection.

"I know we will," you reply.

Joel's smile is soft. "That's my girl," he says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Brave and beautiful.”

The gentle sway of the porch swing and the rhythmic chorus of crickets lull you into a state of peaceful tranquility. Your eyelids grow heavy, and despite your best efforts to stay awake, you find yourself succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Joel notices your drowsy state and smiles softly, his eyes reflecting a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. "Come on, sunflower," he whispers, his voice a soothing balm to your weary senses. "Let's get you inside." With surprising gentleness, Joel scoops you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stands from the swing. You let out a sleepy protest but quickly settle against him, your head resting on his shoulder as he carries you into the house.

He navigates through the darkened rooms with ease, making his way to his bedroom. He lays you down on the bed, pulling back the covers so he can tuck you in.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes as he moves around the room, turning off lights and setting an alarm for the morning. When he's satisfied that everything is in order, he begins to undress, shedding his clothes until he's standing in nothing but his boxers. The sight of him—all hard planes and toned muscles—makes your breath hitch in your throat despite your sleepy state.

Joel catches your gaze and chuckles softly. "Like what ya see?" he teases gently as he slips into bed beside you.

You nod, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire. "Always," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel's eyes darken at your confession, but he makes no move to act on the attraction that still crackles between you. Instead, he reaches out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Get some sleep, sunflower," he says softly, his fingers tracing a gentle path down the side of your face.

You nod again, snuggling deeper into the covers as Joel turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. The bed shifts slightly as he settles in beside you, the heat of his body a comforting presence in the cool room.

As you drift off to sleep, you feel Joel's arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. His breath is warm against the nape of your neck, and he lulls you into a deep, peaceful slumber. In the quiet darkness of the night, with Joel's protective embrace surrounding you, you feel safe and cherished. The worries and uncertainties of the future fade into the background, replaced by a sense of contentment and belonging and you know this is exactly where you were meant to be.

[lysenfeu]

Ghost picking you up and throwing you onto the bed, growling in your ear how he's going to fucking ruin you, and then just... taking his sweet fucking time.

Leisurely peeling off both your clothes one single item at a time, walking them all to the laundry hamper individually, completely oblivious to your huffs of annoyance. Running his hands over your body, rough calluses dragging along your bare skin, carefully avoiding all the sensitive parts you're begging him to touch. 

Pushing himself inside you at an agonizingly slow pace, forcing you to feel every. single. inch. Deliberately ignoring your frenzied cries for more and faster as he pulls out almost entirely before sliding back in, just as slow.

It feels like torture, like he's raking you across hot coals over and over. It makes you beg even more, tears in your eyes, for him to just please, please fuck you harder. He promised to ruin you, dammit!

He looks down at you, sobbing in his arms, sheets threatening to tear under your tight grip, sweat dripping down your temples, and simply smiles.

"I already have, love."

[hidtired]

Love Burns

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Some way somehow you crawled your way back from death. All to get back into the arms of one man. Daryl and the rest of the group were taking your death hard, your death was gruesome. So your disheveled arrival back to them was unfathomable… (Duel POVs)

6.1k words

Fall felt like winter. In a place made of concrete it was decided something needed to be done before winter truly came. The prison still needed a lot of work but with the new people of Woodbury things were getting done a lot faster. Only thing lacking was supplies. So a team was round up to go to a near hardware warehouse. Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Daryl, You, Carol, Sasha, Tyrese, and a few Ex Woodbury people headed out for as much as they all could carry. It was Hershel who suggested that this was dire because someone could get sick and that was supplies we just couldn’t spare. So… this wasn’t all for nothing. This run was the greater good for the prison. Even if it all went wrong by dusk. Even if it cost your life.

Almost all the cars had been full of things. It was decided to send a few of the new people back to empty their trucks and comeback. The chill was numbing everyone’s hands as they moved things back and forth. A fire was started inside the chain link fence. The U haul parked close to it to blocked the wind. Daryl had taken his bike, the psycho. But you had to admit the leather jacket he now wore looked good on him. You and Daryl, still no label but something was there. If the time spent cuddling him every chance you got inside the cellblock said anything. Always using the excuse you were cold, which wasn’t wrong. You’ve both kissed but that had happened only a few times. The only reason you had both gotten so close was the time spent after the farm fell.

It was decided in your mind after this run you would put all your card on the table. So while you were in the warehouse grabbing future farm tools Daryl walked past you making you turn and speak, “Hey, wanna share what little whiskey I have left when we get back.” Daryl turned a small smirk barely noticeably, he grunted before speaking, “Bring out booze? Must be a special occasion.” You glance away then back to him, gathering courage, “Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.” You smiled and walked past him with your head held high mimicking confidence. Little did you know you made the hair on the back of his neck stand and his heart beat just that much faster.

Finally dusk was fast approaching and everyone was gathered around the fire discussing before getting ready to leave. You sat staring into the fire half listening to the chatter of everyone. You had your arms around yourself trying to stop the wind. You were playing out things in your mind to say to Daryl. Trying to develop a way to get your feelings across. Strange how things escalate to life or death. Your peaceful gaze into the now hot coals was interrupted with sounds of gun shots drowned with screams and sounds of the dead marching. It was damn unlucky to have had two herds merge into each other at the warehouse. It was frantic but quick. You had been left to put of the fires. You had waited by the last smoldering one to beat the cold before all of you departed. When the gun fire and screams started you hadn’t thought to look behind you with all the action in front of you.

You heard a thunk before you felt something fall on top of you pulling you to the ground by your legs. You kicked and thrashed killing the walker that snuck up on you. However you noticed a wave of walkers now pulled down a part of the fence with their eyes dead set on you. A few slipping out of through holes in the fence. You unhooked your side arm from its place on your thigh. Pulling the knife you apparently stuck into the walker that jumped you. You look all around you trying to navigate options. But the situation that had originally got your attention also seemed to escalate with another wave of walkers come from every direction. That’s when your awareness made you freeze all together. A pain to your side close to your back. Lifting the layers of your cloths a mark of teeth bleed.

You had been bite.

Ice filled your veins, fear. Your grip tightened on your weapons. You stare as walkers closed the distance. Your name rung in your ears. Daryl scream for your attention, you slowly turned to him. He was a distance away behind a fence with others who seemed to escape the first wave they’d met. Even if you hadn’t been bite to may blocked your way to run into any means of safety. Daryl waved his hands trying beckon you to run to him. He looked like he was going to jump the already bending fence to get to you. Other faces you recognized to be the family you had found yelling in panic along with Daryl’s. You slowly pulled your shirt turning to them. Blood ran down dripping into your pants from the deathly injury. Others seeming to realize what had happened.

“NOOOOOOO!”

The pained yell Daryl had ripped out from himself being followed by the snapping fence falling to the pressure of the herd. Daryl still stood even with the danger coming to him, Rick clearly holding him back with Glenn running over to help drag him away. You smiled at Daryl some tears running down your face, probably the last Daryl will see it as his face disappeared from your sight. You turned around to the herd closer to you. A few walkers had gotten closer to you than you thought. This was your last stand. You fired gunshot after gunshot while managing to kill some with your knife. You tripped on one of the bodys you had put down. You fell expecting to quickly get back up and continue your count down to death bringing any dead bastard with you. But a flare of unexpected pain at your landing made a blood curdling scream vibrate into the air. You had landed into the fire pit. Hot coals with little flame burning you. Ambers exploding around you with your fall. Your open wound on your side sizzles adding more pain to the specific area. You instinctively jumped up away from the pit. Groaning while you forced yourself to stand vision blurred and legs wobbling.

It’s funny… to know you’re about to die. You could never imagine the things to go through your mind until it happens. Your past didn’t flash before your eyes. More thoughts of the future. How will people take your death? Maybe If this didn’t happen then how would you fit into there future. What if you had that drink with Daryl… That pushed you to now. Right now. You woke up. Groggy cold and numb. The smell of death strong. You weren’t sure if maybe you were a walker maybe it was all a dream.

The haze lifted with a spike of your adrenaline as your eyes focus. A walker close to your face with your knife jammed into its head. A gasp filled your lungs, you weren’t dead? You were lying on your stomach under the U haul nearly freezing. The body of walkers all around you seemed to be your insulation. You take in the scene around you, then you do the only logical thing, cry. A sob ripped from you, tears streaming down your now dirt covered face that was laying in the dirt. You were scared, in pain, and alone. It seemed like the only thing you could really do and have the mind to do. In the small gaps that walkers didn’t cover a slight glow came. You pushed through the body’s crawling between them until fresh air hit you. Dark gray clouds hung above you.

The night had passed while you were under the truck. You caught sight of the littered bodys around the area. It was quiet. Not a soul or other wise empty vessel around. You attempted to stand but fell when you became light headed and unbalanced. Another attempt had lead you slowly to your feet. You were covered in dirt. You could only think you were rolling around in it while keeping walkers away from you under the car. The longer you were awake the more you came back to yourself. A hand slowly moved to your forehead. You were cold but shouldn’t you have a fever by now? At the thought you moved some of the fabric from your bite only stopping when your cloths were singed to your body. Were the bite was now was left with a deep embedded scorch marks. Coals had seemed to burned you up to your shoulder and down to your hip on you left side.

The sight of it made you gag but you couldn’t feel a thing from it. The burns must have destroyed the nerves. If the infection of being bite wasn’t going to kill you the infection sure to come from this wound would. A flare of life filled you. A broken chuckle passed your lips filling the dead silence. You need Hershel badly and soon if you wanted a chance to live. A chance was better than what you had thought. You slowly turn around to the U hale in hopes you could drive it back but the tires were blown and a rainbow like liquid had formed a puddle. You probably shot at walkers while under there damaging the car. Like damaging the gas tank and somehow not exploding so you’ll take that win. No that meant you just had to walk several miles back to the prison. Suddenly you remembered you weren’t bond to the roads so maybe you were closer then you thought.

So you took off north into the woods, hopeful and better yet alive.

Daryl POV

Of course nothing ever goes smoothly and this damn run was no exception. It was so close, they were all packed and ready to go. A herd coming didn’t seem like a big deal just alerting them there was no time to dilly dally. So after killing a few and saving people who got surprised by it they stood behind a chain fences that wasn’t going to hold for long the more that pushed against it. Daryl’s eyes flickered to everyone behind the fence. Panic now felt when his eyes didn’t meet yours. He turned back around frantically until he say you standing facing what looked to be another herd. His eyes widened and your name was flying out of his mouth before he even knew he was doing it. You just stood there, not even in a defensive posture, just casually. Your head turned to meet his after hearing him.

Tears ran down your face but your face remained to looked shocked. Maybe you froze in panic so he gestured for you to come quickly but you didn’t move. Soon others joined in calling for you. But when you moved and lifted your shirt he felt like he was sinking. Blood dripped down your side and teeth were imprinted in your skin. His eyes flicked back up to yours to see you smiling at him. He was screaming and moving without a thought.

“NOOOOOOOO!”

A hand grabbed his shirt and then the fence in front of them fell. He still tried moving forward even then but other sets of hands now pulled him backwards. He grunted and gasped still looking at you as he was moved away. The smile on your face directed at him. The look in your eyes saying so many words that he didn’t have the time to decipher in the moment. He didn’t know the words coming from his mouth but he was yelling. For whoever holding him to let him help you in curses and cry’s. When he lost sight of you is when he faltered. More people seemed to be dragging him now. A gunshot went off making him jump in his skin along with the others around him. Sound now processing in his ears. Maggie sobbing along with muffled crying from others.

Everyone had assumed that gunshot was you giving yourself mercy. Then more came making him start dragging his heels again. You were fighting, you were bring some of the herd on them back to you. He was going to fight to get to you. But he froze along with the people clawing him backwards. You were screaming. No you were dying and they all were hearing it. It was guttural and sudden like you were surprised. He was yelling in tears now, “NOOO PLEASE-“ his words jumping starting people again to pull him away. Your pained cries fading when he was pulled into a car. Tyrese was the one locking him in place. Rick driving with Michonne in the passenger side leaning over like she was going to be sick.

Daryl was now desperate to grab air in his lungs as has he went limp in Tyrese grasp. His gasps filled with the now humming engine felt like he was spiraling. Sounds muffled and thoughts racing. ‘Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.’ The feeling from the words originally was like butterflies, now it was hornets. You always wiggled your away into his arms. Excuses of ‘it’s cold.’ or ‘But you’re always so warm.’ He knew for some reason you had taken interest in him. You had lit some dumb teenage feeling in him. Thoughts of you always crossing his mind throughout the day. Hopes of you trying to make your way into his space later in the day. The first time you fell asleep on him was when you crawled in his lap during watch and shivered endlessly while he held you. He continued to watch gaze flickering through trees while holding you and he knew deep down he was screwed.

The fear that kept him away and doubting had come true. He watched trees go by through the window in silence. Tyrese still holding him as he was lying across the seats. Like he would jump out the moving vehicle if given the chance. Even though he didn’t act on his feeling he had still loved you. He felt cold inside. The cold that would have drawn you to him. He will never hold you to him again. His hands trembled to his face and covered his eyes. Your screams echoing in his mind, your sad loving smile played into his mind. His palms dug into his eyes and he cried. His tears breaking seemed to trigger those around him. He heard Rick holding his breath as he sniffled. Michonne would occasionally suck in a gasp. Tyrese trembled with sighs and coughs trying to break the growing ball in his throat.

Eventually making it back to the prison Carl swung the gate open happily for two cars and Carol riding on Daryl’s bike. The unsuspecting grief hadn’t reached the prison but when they got out of the cars it was felt in waves. They were still seemed lost in thoughts, or lost in a moment. Carl looked on to his father who held is head down and hands on his hips. Maggie making her way to her father and cried silently when he hugged her with Glenn close by eyebrows furrowed in pain. When looking at Daryl it was clear to who they lost. He was stock still and pale, in shock. Hershel practically herded them into the cell block. Carol tried to come near him while walking there but he just shock his head and pushed past her.

They sat in silence sitting at the tables they had their breakfast just this morning. Daryl leaned on the wall keeping his distance. Rick was standing and looking on to everyone hunched in to themselves. Judith in his arms was probably the only reason Daryl didn’t go into a berserk rage. Though when Rick started retelling what had happened to the other that weren’t there he was gettin close to it. Nails digging into his palms and teeth clenched he still listened.

“Y/n’s gone… We were just about ready to go when a herd spooked us.” Rick sighed now looking to everyone’s face. “We had gotten behind a fence and Y/N was putting fires out…” Beth had clear tears now growing in her eyes as she listened. “We think a separate herd flanked us but we were so busy with the first to notice. She was across from us with a herd closing in from behind and in front of her. She could have possibly made it… if-“ he cleared is throat starting again. “If she didn’t lift her shirt showing us she was already doomed. I don’t know when or how, but she was bite.” Rick paused then chuckled wetly, “She had to go out being a badass, could hear it in my mind ‘Was it cool at least?’ Always theatrics with that one.” The thought bubbles in Daryl’s stomach, ‘she always said if she was ever going out it was in a blaze of glory, nothing “lame”.’ Daryl leaned forward off the wall moving to pass by everyone. Everyone had stilled at his movement but he just walked into the cell block.

He needed a minute, to cope, scream, cry, yell, he didn’t know but he felt like he was dying. He found his way up the stairs and pushing past the stupid Dino sheets you chose for your room. ‘They’re not ugly! We have a lot more in common with are extinct friends now. Though I would have preferred a meteor…’ He stared at everything that had been left where you had it. He stumbled to sit on the edge of your bed looking around. You had so many weird thing… you were so weird. A now deflated happy birthday ballon he remembered you yelling, ‘JACKPOT’ when you found it scavenging. Then his eyes locked onto a bottle of whiskey. It was not even half full but when he saw it tears started falling quietly. He picked it up and held it to his chest.

“Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.” That sentence would haunt him forever.

Your POV

You groaned like the dead as you made your way through the woods. Speaking of the dead they didn’t much notice you. That had made you spiral in the whole am I really a walker?! But then you remember you were covered in dirt and blood and walking like you had a few to many. You were starting to feel warm putting you into a cold sweat. It was hard to not think that maybe the bite was still going to kill you. You had burnt it with the rest of your back to hell. You probably look like you crawled out from hell. The thought made you dazily laugh out loud. Ok so maybe you were delirious. If that manic laugh that bubbled from you wasn’t any indication. You weren’t thinking straight. Only moving in the direction you think is to the prison? God you could go for some pasta right about now, Olive Garden salad and bread sticks… damn. Little mint at the end. You trip out of your thoughts slamming into the forest floor with a groan.

It had snapped you back into a clearer head space. Your vision swam a little but you started to push yourself back up. So turns out your near death thoughts weren’t as epic as you thought they were going to be, just bread sticks and mints. You sighed looking around trying to gain your bearings. You could hear some water to your right meaning you were indeed going the right way. Just 20 more minutes and you were back to the prison. You wonder if you could have had a dinner date with Daryl. I suppose you still could if you didn’t die. The poor man had tried running into a herd for you. You were getting more unbalanced as you walked leaning from tree to tree. Wood splitting and jamming into your hands, only adding to a list of injures. The worst part was you didn’t feel much of anything pain wise. The cold numbed you and your lack of cognitive ability was no better help.

The stream broke off flowing into the direction of the prison. You saw the bridge that held the water pump before the prison. You somehow managed to get back here. The prison was still quieter than normal. You could see closer to the gate a few people were clearing walkers, vision to bleary to know who. A thunk sounded coming into the middle of the inclosed clearing. Rick was cutting wood with Carl moving logs for him to cut. Slowly making your way to the fence you didn’t realize your throat was so scratchy, nothing but a huff of air coming out. That’s right, you had been screaming…. and crying. You lean into the fence hands intertwined with the cool dewy metal.

A walker was pushed against the fence to your right staring to Rick and Carl too. You slowly push down to the floor grabbing a stick. You pushed back up using the fence to walk closer to the walker. Taking a deep breath you kicked the back of the walkers legs making it fall to its knees. The walker grumbled in shock or protest but it was silence with the stick shoved in its eyes. The constant noise of the walker was acknowledged by the Grimes so when it abruptly stopped they looked over to where it was. You were leaning into the side of the fence as you heard feet approaching, “Who are- Holy shit!” You heard them running and the sound got farther from you. The heavy gate door grunted open and the running sound came back toward you. You tried moving along the fence, tripping yet again on the walker, this time only to your knees.

A shadow fell over you causing you to look up seeing Rick kneeling in front of you, hands moving to pull you up. Your adrenaline was dropping now that the task you set for yourself was complete. The fall made your head swim, voices now muffled as blood pulled into your head. You saw Rick talking but didn’t comprehend anything he said. He soon pointed at Carl and your eyes moved over to the boy. Walkers had made their way out of the woods at the commotion. You suddenly were being jostled now. Rick had put an arm to the back of your shoulders and his other arm to the back of your knees and lifted you into him. You were slightly over Rick’s shoulder as he quickly moved. Then you realized what Rick was yelling.

“HERSHEL! HERSHEL! HERSHEL!”

That was right, you wanted Hershel to help you… help you? What for again? Your mind clicked as you watched the door of the gate close behind you. Some faces now appeared as Rick continued to carry while trying not to dig his hands into your injury. You had been injured, right. Some looks you caught while over Rick shoulder was nothing you’ve seen direct at yourself. The group formed shuffling to the gate to get into the court yard. You recognized Maggie gasping and her saying, “Oh my god is she alive?! H-how?” You rumbled out a deep noise. “Cause I’m a badass.” You were becoming slack and your vision was blurring. You were trying to remain awake. Maybe for the face you so desperately wanted to see, and the other part of you was afraid you wouldn’t wake back up. But at last you involuntarily relaxed as you heard him, “Y/N!” His voice was pained and dry, but it sent a smile to your face before you went still as Rick continued moving you.

Daryl POV

He fell asleep in your bed. Selfishly taking in what little smell was left of your space. The whiskey bottle was held to his chest untouched. He kept waking up ever hour. He felt wrong like something was missing. His body knew that you weren’t with him and it made him restless. He would think about your screams feeling like he still heard them. He would play back random moments with you. He just couldn’t seem to move. Stuck laying down holding the bottle you both were going to share, stuck going in and out of consciousness. He was depressed he realized. It was the norm for his sadness to spark rage but he just felt defeated. With Merle he got angry, upset even. But he could still move. His world was still moving then but now he wasn’t sure how it kept spinning with you gone.

Everyone was already moving through the day doing tasks that needed to be completed. He heard the shuffles and whispers of his friends- his family. He would hear someone’s breath hitch while talking about you. He was left alone with Glenn being the one saying, “Leave the man alone.” With other things like, ‘when Lori died-‘ or, ‘if it had been Maggie I’d be the same.’ He would thank the man on another day. So here he is still, morning coming to pass, in your bed staring at the ceiling. He tried to not think about how you might be a walker wondering or even worse your body was still there. He would have to push himself up to that. But the silence around the prison seemed to have broke.

The heavy door that lead in from out doors slammed opened and a panicked Maggie nervously yelled for her father. “D-Daddy somethings wrong Rick’s yelling for you!” Daryl’s hearing perked up feeling the pit in his stomach drop further. Dread seeping into him, ‘Another bad thing was happening.’ He heard the clicking of Hershel’s crutch’s as he moved through the door that Maggie’s had burst through. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut before sucking in a breath in and huffing it out. He got up.

He got to his feet moving down the stairs buzzing with adrenaline. Not sure if he was going to have to protect people or kill someone. As Daryl pushed through the metal door to the court yard an icy wind blew through him. The hair on the back of his neck stood. He turned over to the commotion gathering by the gate to the yard. Scanning the area he didn’t see danger so he made his way over to the group. “Oh my god is she alive?! H-how?” Daryl’s eyebrows furrowed as he got closer over hearing people now.

“Cause I’m a badass.”

Although the voice was deep and scratchy he froze at the familiar voice. He only paused for a moment before he started running the rest of the way there, “Y/N!” His voice was slightly harsh with dis use and the ball of tension in his throat didn’t help much either. You were being held up in a weird way by Rick but you sluggish turned drooping slightly as you did. When your eyes met you smiled but it slowly fell as you went slack. Rick was moving again with the demands of Hershel yelling orders to Carol and Maggie to gather things. Daryl saw your cloths, burnt holes and black and red covered you. Your skin stuck sticking to fabric as deep char marks riddled your back and side. He was speechless as the group passed him but he still followed. Maybe he fell asleep again and was dreaming all this.

“I need disinfectant and a bucket of clean water!”

Rick had set you down on your stomach in an unused cell. Your arm dangled over edge swaying. He stood the watching in shock. People were scrambling around him. He didn’t realize he had gotten the bottle still in his hands before he looked down and walked over practically shoving it into the man’s arms. Daryl was wide eyed as he watched your still form, “Daryl I need you to cut off her clothes. Be careful of her shirt.” A hand clasped to his shoulder finally clicking everything into place. His hand had moved for his knife and he slowly cut down right side on a seam. He slowly plead the shirt from you. It would stick then tug and pull off of you making him cringe. Hershel started talking again as Daryl moved to pull down your jeans.

“You said she was bite?” Daryl let your pants fall to the floor as he looked back up to the side he had seen it. Your entire side was indented and black. Some black circles were higher up to your shoulders as your enter left side seemed to have taken most of the burns. He pointed to were he had last saw the bite. “It was here- shit she fell into the fire pit.” The screams he heard played back into his mind. The pain and surprise that had ripped from you. Hershel now with a cloth and water started cleaning the area removing the grim, “That means she might have stopped the spread of the infection with how deep these burns are.” Hershel paused looking over her body. He then put a hand to your forehead, “She’s warm but not feverish…” Hershel grabbed the bottle of whiskey again turning to Daryl and popping the lid of,

“Get out of here Daryl. Maggie! Carol! I need hands!”

He watched as the two girls push past him and before he was out of sight from you saw Hershel dump some of the alcohol onto the area. He stepped out turning to see worried and confused faces. They stared at him silently with the background noise of Hershel making demands of his helpers. Sasha almost whispered her question to him, "How is she still alive?" Everyone turned to her before looking at him expectantly as the wondered the same. Daryl looked like he was visibly thinking before he sighed, "I don't know. She fell in the fireplace is all I know." Rick looked to the floor nodding thinking back to when he first saw you and struggled to pick you up around what looked to be burns. Daryl spoke again almost hopefully, "Hershel thinks there's a chance she stop the infection from spreading with how deep the burns are."

Hopeful gasps filled the air. Carl was the next to speak almost as a demand, "Then we going to use all are medical supplies we've got if there is a chance." Rick whispered, "Carl..." but Beth jumped in. "W-we have it for reasons like these! I know she is technically bite but we have no clue if she stopped it, its worth splurging to see if this could save others!" Rick looked surprised at the outburst mouth opening about to speak before Glenn jumped in also pleading to him, "Well find more!" Other silently agreeing and nodding. Daryl looked between the group so determined about your life smirking at it even but, he knew what Rick was trying to say. Sure enough the man had chuckled shacking his head, "Why are you all looking at me for, I'm not the leader anymore. This is a matter for the council. But I think that decision has already been made." It had only started not to long ago with Rick being the stand in while everyone settled on who the council consisted of. Michonne clapped her hands together, "Right is has been settled then, what ever cost to keep her alive." It was a waiting game now.

Days pass with the prison fueled with a hope. The once depressive air had lifted once Hershel declared you stable and with no fever. It was determined until a day later with still no fever you were not infected. The only problem now way you had yet to wake up. The girls had cleaned you of all the caked on dirt from your skin and hair they best they could with you unconscious and your injury. Daryl with any of his free time was by your side. He even took to sleeping in the bunk above you. He changed your bandage most of the time. You were on the your third IV by the 5th day. Daryl had a chair pulled by your side as he fiddled with his crossbow and bolts, your steady breathing having a calming effect on him. The breathing pattern faltered for a second making him look up to you. He stared for a moment before you seemed to grunt in pain. The hair was rising on the back of his neck. Hazy eyes open and your cuffed hand attempted to move but was halted by it be attached to the metal bed frame in the wall.

Daryl felt his heart race as he watched you slowly and groggily start moving. He reached to stopping your hand from moving with his own. "Hey, stay down." You groaned pain probably hitting you finally making Daryl call for Hershal. The clicking of crutch’s came closer but he looked back down to you at your sudden silence. Your eyes met with his and in that moment you saw straight into his soul making him feel exposed. All his nerves seemed to stand on end with your quiet gaze. A small smile creeping it way on your face. Daryl leaned down moving some hair from your face as you remained on your stomach. When he was crouched closer to you he whispered, “Hey darlin’…” You huffed out air and a tear ran down your cheek. He was smiling down at you feeling the weight of deaths grip finally releasing you back to him.

Hershel broke the moment but he never stopped holding your hand as the older man fussed over you. Your voice was rough to say the least. He winched at your first attempt at using it. “iM aLivE…?” Daryl squeezed your hand and the ball in his throat suck to his chest as he let out a chuckle. You seemed just as surprised of the fact just like them. You hissed before flinching forcibly relaxing your muscles but you still spoke again, “tHe BiTe?” Hershel had moved injecting something in your IV bag, pain killers hopefully. Your eyes barely following the movement as Hershel spoke calmly with a smile, “You’ve been out for a few days. No fever. We are working on the burns because they are festering but blistering. You killed the infection.” Your eyes squeezed shut and you sniffled a little tears poured from your eyes in relief. Daryl couldn’t help for his eyes to blur a little to. A hand fell to his shoulder, Hershel. “Her blood pressure is still low so keep her lying down. Try and fed her something small for now until she is up right.”

With that he hobbled away probably going to spread the good news that you are up. His attention snapped back to you when he heard a faint whisper of his name, “daryl.” You had a dopey grin as you stare up at him making the knotted ball in his stomach loosen. You smile falter and a harsh sounding, “woOaH-“ your eyes blinking like your vision got blurry. He intertwined his fingers behind yours as he keyed open the cuffs. “goDdaMn…. HaRdcorE dRugS hEllo~” Daryl chuckled seeing you sag in relief. Your eyes moved to something behind him a long, “hEeeY…” your lips pouting. He turned around questioningly at what you were staring at. The bottle of now empty whiskey, aah. He turned back to you running his free hand into your hair, “Don’t look at me I didn’t drink it.” You stare at the bottle softly saying, “How wiLl I woe a DiXon nOw?”

Daryl sighs feeling that ever burning in his chest when it comes to you. “Don’t think you need to worry to much about that, think he is beyond woed.” You dawn a familiar smirk he knows means trouble. ‘Mmm’ vibrates from your chest, “Good… been really laying it on thick as of late. Hell crawled back from death for the guy.” Your voice seemed to not rattle in your hushed tone. You seemed to struggle to keep your eyes open and focus you spoke once more before closing your eyes and falling to drugs and exhaustion, “So much for not using the med supply like Hershel said…”

Love burns with either the loss of them or the fact they exist in the first place, but you would say the fireplace hurt a tad bit more than loving your gruff hunter.

Feedback welcome and requests open!

[spurbleu]

oldman!price x reader angsty (?) drabble

‧︎✳︎༚︎‧︎⁎︎°︎

age leaves john price in tantrum.

he despises what it’s done to his body. the creak in his knees when he walks, the strain in his shoulder when he reaches across the table. steam engine, ironclad and coal hot, neglected the rust on the belly of its stirrups. adopted a sudden fragility he cannot stand.

takes a literal force of nature to get him to retire, and he grieves it like a father. it, in all honesty, was one. taught him how to shoot straight, how to hold his men, how to be without feeling like he’s an imposter in his own skin. forced him to grow up- which is ironically exactly what ended their alliance.

nursed whiskeys, fattened ice kissing the base. smoked like somehow- fossilized in ligero- he’d find his youth again. blistered under reluctant mortality, indulged in fatal vices because if anything is putting him in the grave it’s a gun or a cigar.

a pot never boils watched, yet you stay at your designated post by the doorway while he broods (he’s a dramatic at heart), storm clouds stamped on the collapse of his shoulders.

if you were one of his soldiers, you let him fester.

but you were his wife.

it wasn’t like you hadn’t aged yourself, silver linings sprouting from your scalp, sun spots and bleached knuckles. even so, you found time to pick up his medications, comb through amateur food blogs for gut health and bone pain, roll the aches out of his shoulder before bed. you were kind- and it was insulting.

spitfire catching on the burs of his muttonchops- unfamiliar with dependence. he was a captain for Christ’s sake- alloy lighthouse, built by cement and sheer fucking will. he didn’t need to be hand fed vitamin C and dragged to yoga class. he pitched barbed wire, dug his shallow trench and intended lay in it.

until, one evening, thunder strikes him out of dewy acrimony. he clambers up the stairs, musk of tobacco and spite plants a grimy boot in the oak. he glances over the railing, and stills.

bathroom door, cutting swaddled atmosphere with thin bisque, a pyramid down the center of the hall that created the illusion of darker corners. centered in the odd, domestic scaffolding was you- shower damp and concentrated.

it was like watching a bird preen feathers. tugging at the sags, yanking at the silvers, skin pitching at the nostril and eyes narrowing into thin keyways. and if he squinted, sniper accuracy rendered tears. sallow river bed on your flushed cheeks, clumped lashes, a frown that broke hearts.

“you’re never struggling alone, John,” you had said one evening, when he had been foolishly apathetic, “i’ll make sure of that.”

he hadn’t said anything.

guilt squirms at the base of his neck. the stranger named comfort that swelled within your embrace unnerved him so much he had forgotten to introduce himself. and now, milking moonlit lighting, with a wife who thought he was hiding from her, he called himself what he had never been as a soldier.

a coward.

you were making tea the next morning, windows surrendering a warmth when the day was still docile. it was while you were humming that your husband, sneaky bastard, folds you into the plush of his chest, drowsy lips dragging on the cusp of your shoulder.

“you always look so beautiful in the mornin, darlin.”

and it was true. you’ve never looked better to the old man.

[ceilidho]

prompt: reader is a large animal vet making a house call to a certain ex-SAS member's ranch.

-

It’s the first time you’ve been called out to this ranch. 

You’ve been to some others in the surrounding area—just last week you stopped by a ranch just half an hour away—but never this one. It’s far out of the way, almost tough to find—you miss the turnoff twice, each time forced to turn back around and squint to find the poorly marked dirt road leading to the ranch. Your shoulders only unclench when the ranch house finally crests over the horizon and you spot the horses milling around in the fenced-off enclosure. 

They must have had an in-house vet prior to calling you out. None of your colleagues remember ever visiting and the ranch is big enough to necessitate one. It sprawls across the landscape, acres upon acres. The kind of ranch that deals in thoroughbreds, horses that go on to graded stakes races. In the pen already, you can pick out Thoroughbreds and American Warmblood, the distinctive spotting of an Appaloosa, even a couple Hanoverians. 

There are men working around the ranch outside of the main enclosure that you park just a dozen or so yards away from, but something about the man standing by his lonesome with the horses makes you pause. 

A head taller than the rest, and built like a redwood. Bandana affixed around the lower half of his face, almost bandit-like. You shake those thoughts out of your head. You’re not here to pass judgement on people; you’re here for the horses. Whatever scars mar his face are hardly your concern (still, rugged, you think, a bit breathless even sitting in the front seat of your truck). 

When he turns in your direction, eyes locked on your truck and then locked on you when you pop into the back to grab your bag, your back straightens. Imperceptibly, yet still. Compelled to measure up somehow, to whatever standard he expects.

He strikes you as the man in charge. “Mister Riley?” you call out, shielding your eyes from the sun. 

He beckons you over with a gloved hand. Even from the distance, he leaves you unsure of yourself, quick to stumble when his stare starts to burn. 

“Doc,” Riley greets you when you’re close enough, and you fight back a shiver. His voice rumbles like thunder, like hooves pounding into the freshly tamped earth, into the dirt. 

“You called about a pregnant mare,” you remind him. 

The bag in front of your legs puts a bit of distance between the two of you, a needed buffer. Up close, he towers like sequoia, in fact, sleeves rolled up past his forearms, old tattoos on his left arm faded like beaten leather. He holds out a hand though, forcing you to take a step forward out of politeness and shake it. Your lips tighten at the touch of his skin. It’s weathered too, coarse palms and fingertips; there’s dirt caked around his nail beds, the kind that never comes out, the world’s indelible mark on the skin. 

He stares at you for a moment without speaking. There’s no helping the way you squirm under his gaze.

“The horse,” you remind him, cheeks hot.

“She’s in the stables; I’ll bring ya to her.”

You struggle to keep up with him, bag bumping against your leg as you haul ass after him. Big as he is, he moves quickly, fast on his feet—used to quick beasts, you know, probably used to anticipating their movements, always one step ahead. Your last shred of decency keeps you from staring at his ass the entire walk to the stables. 

Her coat is a rich coal colour, mane sun-bleached. Inky eyes peer back at you when Riley lets you into her stall. It’s cooler inside somehow, out of the inescapable glare of the sun; the sweat on the back of your neck stays wet under Riley’s eyes though, nervous rather than weather-born. 

She’s gorgeous though, the mare. Pretty as can be. Heavily pregnant too, you can see. Obviously well taken care of too, still decently muscled like she’s still been taken for walks and rides during her pregnancy. 

“She’s too far along now to ride,” he tells you when you remark on that, his voice carrying in the confined space. He doesn’t raise his voice, but it makes you perk up again, at attention, head whipping over your shoulder to look at him. 

“I can tell. A little over two months ‘till she delivers,” you say with a nod, looking down at the chart you have on her. “I can come back for her last deworming before she foals, if you want.”

He grunts, doesn’t answer. You take it as an affirmative. 

It doesn’t take you long to run through her check-up. A docile girl, you coo when she lets you touch her without any sign of aggression, sweet-tempered thing. It’s second nature after all, at this point in your life. 

Still, you find yourself watching Riley out of the corner of your eye, careful under his watchful gaze. Not that you usually aren’t, but still. Your movements feel intentional, precise. 

When he walks you out, you get a bit bolder in the sunlight. Freer to pester him with questions. 

“Did your last vet retire or something?” you ask, fishing for information. It’s probably none of your business, but you find yourself curious anyway. There are a few different vet practices operating in the area, so it’s always helpful to know who’s going to your competitors. 

He shakes his head. “Friend of mine went to school for this—been with me as long as I’ve had the ranch. He got hitched a couple weeks ago though.”

“Moving away?” you guess.

“Opening up a practice,” he corrects, making you frown. That’s worse, at least for you. “On his honeymoon this month though, so he gave me your name.”

“My boss’ name, you mean.”

“That’s right,” he says, and you realize that he’s walked you all the way to your car, half-pinning you to the door of your truck. Just close enough that a new layer of sweat breaks out on the back of your neck. You have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. “Don’t know if I caught yours, little filly.”

Now that makes you stutter over your name, confidence finally failing you. When he hums like he’s caught your name in his head now, mapped it to you with his sharp eyes, you feel yourself swallow reflexively. 

“Not like you’ll need it for long,” you tease, trying to gain back some semblance of control. “Just until your friend gets back and sets up his practice, at least.”

“Not sure about that. Might find some use for you yet,” Riley says, close enough now that you can tell he smells of hay and silage, peppery when you breathe in too heavily. 

And you breathe too heavily. Hard not to when he crowds you up against the truck, hand laying flat on the roof, boxing you in. You wonder if any of the ranch hands are looking over at the two of you, curious. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, head empty. Mouth dry enough now that it hurts a bit to swallow. 

His brown eyes glint in the sun. Honey gold under the light. “I can think of a few reasons to keep you around.”

[iliketangerines]

wife wife please 🙏 wife hear me out

okay either johnny finds out you got a CAGE tramp stamp and hits yo shit from the back

OR

climbing liu kang like a tree and he holds you up and SPEARS YOU ON THE MEAT

🫶 runs away

climbing the tower

a/n: @partycatty i wanted to get this out a day earlier but oh well

pairing: liu kang x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), slight dom/sub, hickeys, bite marks, blowjobs, deepthroating, wall sex, public sex (you're in the infirmary where anyone could walk in), slight overstimulation, praise kink, not proofread

you’re not short by any means, being a mediocre average height your entire life meant you had blended in with everyone else

well that, and your natural shapeshifter abilities, but after going through an identity crisis in your ripe teenager years, you usually felt most comfortable in your own skin

however, at the Wu Shi Academy, being average height meant that you were actually short

you wonder what they were feeding the other combatants because Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Raiden all tower over you by several inches

and none of them let you forget it, constantly resting their elbows on your shoulders and making you their counter to rest on

it had led to quite a few bruises, mostly for Johnny and Kung Lao, but even Kenshi and Raiden had their moments where they teased you for your height

the jokes didn’t make you uncomfortable, not your height, with your shapeshifting ability, you could just be taller than them, but you hadn’t ever felt the need to

unless Liu Kang was around

he wasn’t that much taller than any of them, perhaps just by an inch or two, but still, his height, his broad shoulders, and his calm and gentle attitude had you sweating every time he came around you

embarrassing as it was, the way he towered over you always sent all the blood rushing downwards and for your tongue to twist into knots and for your body to feel as hot as burning coals

if Liu Kang ever noticed the slight demeanor change, he didn’t mention it, simply giving you that gentle smile and a reassuring hand on your shoulder

you’re sure that it would be the death of you, the soft but firm words, the gentle tone, the slight rasp in his voice as he gave orders to all of you

every time his hand touched you, you could never help but imagine his fingers touching elsewhere, buried in your hair, gripping onto your thighs, thrusting into your-

you jolt out of your thoughts as Kung Lao roughly elbows you in the side during breakfast, asking what’s got your head so high up in the clouds

scowling at the monk, you slap at his shoulder and pick up your spoon to finish off your breakfast of congee

he winces at the contact and dramatically drapes himself over Raiden, bemoaning about how his closest friend just beat him so viciously and that he would need a kiss to heal it

Raiden rolls his eyes, but the soft smile playing on his lips betrayed his true thoughts as the farmer turned his head to place a gentle kiss upon the monk’s lips

Johnny sighs from across the table, bemoaning just as dramatically as Kung Lao about saving the smooching for the bedroom, and Kung Lao simply flips off the actor before grabbing on tighter to Raiden, determined to put on a show and piss off Johnny as much as possibly

you just roll your eyes at the love sick sight and tip the bowl back, emptying the bowl of its congee, and you excuse yourself from the table just as Kenshi hisses at Johnny to stop being so overreactive

the start of another catfight begins, and you let out a quick huff of hair from your nose, shaking your head and smiling

absolute idiots, but you loved them all nonetheless

as you walk back, you stare at the ground, counting the tiles your feet step on and dodging the cracks in the concrete pavement, and you think back to Liu Kang

you liked Liu Kang, to say the least, it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out your own lust when you had first saw him, and your feelings for him only grew stronger the longer you had hung out with him

he was kind, thoughtful, and most of all, so gentle and warm, and you snort at the irony of him being warm and being the god of fire

but still, your thoughts veer back on track as you think about him and you

you’re just a mortal, a human, a human with shapeshifting powers but human nonetheless, and he was a god, almighty and powerful and much more experienced and aged

it wouldn’t do you any good to desire him, to go after him, and you had tried to squash your own feelings for him, using your powers to match his height whenever he came around

a feeble effort to try and mitigate one of the reasons you liked him, but it wasn’t doing much good, not when his voice affected you more than anything or the way he held himself or the way that he was just so understanding and willing to listen and-

you barely manage to sidestep someone in front of you as they come into your field of view, and you snap your head up, shooting up in height as an instinctual reaction at the sight of Liu Kang

he cranes his neck to look at you as your head crashes into the ceiling above, and you let out a small groan and slowly diminish in height as you rub at the top of your head

Liu Kang asks if you are alright, and you wave him off, saying that he had just caught you by surprise

you shrink down to match his height and watch as he slightly quirks his eyebrow at you, wondering why you hadn’t shrunk down to your original height yet

shifting your weight, you say that you walk faster with long legs and that you should return your bowl to the kitchen and get back before Johnny and Kenshi get into a fight

the god lightly chuckles, just a small laugh and one barely audible over the slight breeze in the wind and the background of monks chanting in the background, but you think you’re about to fall over as heat rushes to your cheeks

how was he so attractive even just doing a simple thing

you give him a sheepish smile and hurry off to the kitchens, mumbling that you really have to get going, and you don’t notice his eyes following you as you speed walk away

when you come back to the dining room, Raiden sits next to Kenshi while Kung Lao sits next to Johnny, the actor and swordsman sporting congee on top of their uniforms as thy shoot ugly glances at each other while the farmers try and calm each other down

it seems like today would be a long one

training that day goes just as well as this morning, Johnny and Kenshi refuse to spar with anyone else but each other, leading to Liu Kang having to monitor their matches closely

you haven’t changed back into your normal height, and while you aren’t adverse to using your powers for extended periods of time, your skin was starting to crawl with the need to go back to normal

but still, something instinctual tells you to stay tall, to try and reduce your attraction to the god, and so you focus back on your own spar with Kung Lao

the monk smirks at you and beckons you toward him, and you reciprocate his grin before finally lunging at him

it’s a long match, drawn out and long, and unease prickles underneath your skin as you fight him in your changed height

you were used to fighting while average height, easier to move faster, to land lower blows, and now that you were taller than him, you were struggling

still, in the corner of your eye, you can still spot Liu Kang at the training fields, observing and watching you all

so you stay in your modified height and take the blows from Kung Lao, trying to change your strategy to incorporate your height

the match drags on for a few minutes, and you feel proud of yourself for managing to hold on this long

at least until Kung Lao kicks you onto your back with a particularly powerful blow, and your head smacks against the ground

pain explodes in the back of your head, and you groan, feeling your body twitch and change and morph as it struggles to deal with the pain

you don’t realize you’ve closed your eyes until the blurry figure of Liu Kang appears in your vision, blocking out the harsh sun as he asks if you’re okay

even in pain, your brain still manages to change the position dirty, filling your head with images of him bent over you in a different situation, skin sweaty and hot, hair disheveled and lips kissed swollen

he calls your name, and you let out a meek yes, sounding a bit whinier than you had wanted to, and Liu Kang sighs in relief and brings his hand to your shoulder to help you sit up

it burns your skin, the heat off of his palm, and you hope and pray that he can’t hear how your heart starts beating rapidly or how your face grows flush and sweaty underneath his touch

Liu Kang tells you he's going to bring you to the infirmary, turning his head away to briefly tell one of the monks overseeing that they are now in charge

his hands stay on your body as you stand up, the world still slightly spinning before you, and your head sways as black dots swim at the top of your vision

the god purses his lips and starts to guide you in the direction of the infirmary, his feet keeping pace with your now shorter legs

the longer and longer you walk to the med bay, the more your head clears, and the more you’re aware of his hand on your shoulder

of both of his hands on your shoulder and how you’re, at best, shoulder height now

you meekly try and push your way out of a visit to the health clinic, but he stares down at you with a hard gaze, and your protest dies in your throat as you try and reel in your own lust for him

it gets appreciably harder when he sits you down in the cot and inspects you himself, asking you questions in a low tone of voice as his hands move to you head to inspect for any swollenness

your voice strains to sound normal as you try to answer his question, the pain in the back of your head gone and replaced with the feeling of butterflies whirling inside of your stomach and liquid hot lust dripping down into your body

he hums and finishes his inspection, sighing and saying that you should be more careful, that using your powers for any longer than a few hours was something to be worked on gradually

besides, your strengths lay with your smaller stature, allowing you attacks that none of the other defenders could feasibly do

you nod your head, trying to avoid eye contact, lest he look into your soul and found the depravity hiding within

his brows furrow, and he tells you to look at him and to answer him with words, that he needed to make sure you understand

god take you now because you might actually stain the bed cot with how wet you are at his commanding tone of voice

you take too long to answer Liu Kang, and he gently raises your chin up to look at him, your neck straining upwards to look at his stern eyes and furrowed brows as he await your answer

it catches you by surprise, his hand on your face, and an involuntary whine slips out of you at the casual dominance

perhaps it would’ve been better if you had blacked out earlier because at least you wouldn’t be stuck in this uncomfortable situation

your face burns with embarrassment, mouth slightly parted at the fact that you had just whined, and Liu Kang lifts his eyebrows in slight surprise

his hand doesn’t falter, however,  on your chin, and he cocks his head at you, blinking as you try and sputter out words and excuses or really anything

he shifts in his position, somehow now looming over you, his broad shoulders completely blocking out your vision and his thumb slips itself in between your parted lips

damn you and your body because you immediately go limp in his hold, mouth instinctively closing around his finger as you let him just lean over you

a small coy smile plays on his lips, and you’re too focused on trying to snap out of how good this all feels to realize that he figures out why you’ve been avoiding him lately

Liu Kang lets out a gentle huff of air, drawing his thumb out of your lips, but you don’t have any time to whine as he places his large hands on your waist and easily transfers you from the bed cot and into his lap

your thighs spread around his, trapping his legs in between yours, but you feel more expose as he spreads his legs, forcing your own to spread as well

even sitting in his lap, you’re still shorter than him, and he takes full advantage of this fact as he presses one hand into the small of your back to force you into the warmth of his skin as he leans forward, bending your back into a bow-like shape

you can’t think, can barely even breathe as your hands settle onto his shoulders, squeezing at the firm muscle to try and ground yourself into reality

even that grows difficult as he leans his head forward, nose bumping into yours, eyes boring down painfully through you, as if he could hear and see every thoughts, peeling away the layers of your mind to find your dirtiest fantasies about him

Liu Kang breathes out, eyes still focused onto yours, and you look away, turning your head to the side and squirming slightly at just how intimate this all was

he frowns at how you avoid his gaze, and his hand at your back goes to squeeze your thigh while his other cradles the back of your neck, squeezing it like he was scruffing a cat

his chest vibrates as he orders you to look at him, and you can feel something nervous grip onto your heart, squeezing and squeezing as you force your head to turn to look at him

you think you’re going to die because you’re so turned on right now that you can’t even process how Liu Kang clenches his jaw, trying to hold onto the small thread of control over himself

praise falls from his lips, saying that you were so good for following his command, and your hips rut forward of their own volition, desperately seeking for some sort of friction on your aching clit

Liu Kang hums at your neediness, eyes never leaving yours as he squeezes at your waist, and you whine again as you grind against empty air

it’s overwhelming how he surrounds you, the scent of ash and green tea in the air, his eyes boring into your soul, the warmth of his hand on the back of your neck, your thigh

as if the god knows, he leans his head forward to consume you completely, lips moving towards yours, and he pauses, just to let you have a choice to push him away just in case

you surge forward, wanting him to devour you, to completely surround you in his heat, and he groans and leans into you further, arching your back into a strained curve

but the ache of your muscle is negated by how his lips taste you, tongue dragging over your lips, low groans into your mouth that you can barely hear over the blood rushing in your ears

he kisses you like a starving animal, pressing into you further and further, seeking more and more of you until you had nothing more to give and then taking some more

your mind is melting, you’re pretty sure it is, and it doesn’t help when his hand on the back of your neck trails up and threads through your hair, pulling you head back as his lips move to your neck

his lips are soft against the skin of your neck, teasing and soft, leaving fervent kisses along the expanse of it, but you want more and gather what little grasp of your will you have left

you trail one of your hands on his shoulder down and shove it down his pants to grab onto his cock, hand firmly wrapping around it

Liu Kang lets out a loud groan against your skin, sinking his teeth into the flesh, and it makes you let out a choked sound as you try and give him some modicum of pleasure

his tongue licks over the mark, almost like an apology, but you find it a lie as he moves to another part of your skin and bites down again as you continue to try and stroke him

wriggling in his hold, you manage to let out a whiny plea for you to suck his cock

it gives the god pause, and his lips momentarily stop against your skin before pulling back to stare into your eyes again

he lets out a breath, asking if you were sure, and you squirm in his ironclad grip on you and let out a pitiful yes, voice high-pitched and breathy

Liu Kang hums and slowly, almost mournfully, lessens his hold on you and helps guide you on shaky legs down to your knees and in between his spread thighs

he pulls down his pants, intending on taking them fully off, but you’re too impatient and shuffle forward and grab onto his cock, perhaps feeling a bit intimidated at the size

it didn’t surprise you that he was thick, thicker than anything you had ever seen or practiced on, but still, there was a reason you were an earthrealm defender, you never backed down from a challenge

your other hand grabs onto his thigh for balance as you leans your head forward, tongue dragging against the length of his cock from base to tip

the god draws in a sharp breath and forces his hands to stay at his sides, wanting to see how far you would go before he would push you to your limits

you concentrate on the task before you, trying not to get too distracted with how his broad form looms over you and how absolutely fucking soaked you are at the sight

ignoring your own need, greedy to taste him, you wrap your lips around the head of him, tongue pressing into the slit to taste his pre-cum, and Liu Kang’s hands start to burn through the cloth of the bed cot

if you smell the burning linen, you don’t pay any mind, using one hand to stroke him up and down in controlled strokes while your mouth suckles at the tip

so, maybe you were a lot intimidated actually at the size of him, not his length, no that was only a bit above average

his girth on the other hand

you clench around nothing at the thought of him stretching you out, the slight burn, the addicting pressure, the feeling of fullness

Liu Kang grits his teeth, hand twitching and burning through the bed cit as he tries to not to bury his fingers in your hair and force your head all the way down until your nose touches down to the base of curls

humming slightly, listening to the choked moan of the god, you push forward, bringing the tip of his cock past your lips and bobbing your head up and down with the pace of your hand

slowly but surely, you take him further and further down your mouth, until he’s in your throat, and your lips burn and you’re sure that tears are falling down your face

he’s losing his self-control, heart beating rapidly in his chest at the sight of you so debauched, tears running down your face, eyes slightly glazed over as you focus on sucking his cock, and Liu Kang can’t help it as his hand finally leaves the bed to bury itself in your hair

his hand pushes you down further and further, and you let him take control, mind slowly going blank at how he’s filling every one of your senses

your nose buries itself into his pelvis, and distantly, you can hear him telling you to breathe through your nose, to stay calm, that you were doing so well for him, so good for him

your own hands grip onto his thighs, squeezing and kneading to try and keep yourself here and present, but control is slipping as you breathe in the scent of him

Liu Kang breathes out through his nose, as his hand tightens its grip on your hair as he moves your head up and down, trying to stay in control, trying to stay calm

and then you let out a breathy whine as his hips stutter and hit the back of your throat roughly, and the thin thread snaps as his other hand grips onto your head

it’s sinful, the wet sounds coming from your mouth, the way Liu Kang fucks into your throat, how your eyes stare up at him, teary and hazy as you moan

the sound vibrates through him, and he thinks he’s going to cum just like this, down your throat, despite his eons and eons of experience

but he doesn’t want to paint your face or your throat with his cum, at least not just yet, and he forces himself to pull your mouth off of his cock, missing the feeling of you immediately

you look dazed, wrecked, all from him, lips swollen and covered in your spit, drool hanging down your chin

Liu Kang drags you up into his lap and kisses you, wrapping your legs around his waist and digging his fingers into the plump meat of your thighs as he stands up

he walks forward, his lips never leaving yours as your arms wrap around his neck to pull him in forward, and your back finally meets the wall of the infirmary

the god grinds his cock into your clothed pussy, two layers too much, and he bites back a growl at the obstruction

balancing you on one hand, arm barely straining with effort, he reaches his free hand down in between you and tears at your pants easily, making you gasp

instantly, both of his hands dig into your ass once again and his cock presses up against your swollen and needy clit

after so long without any friction, you gasp and whimper at the contact, trying to push your hips forward to get more

he denies you, relishing how you squirm in his arms and how your whines grow needier and needier with each passing second

when you let out a small plea, your name hanging from his lips like honey and a sweet please melting into the air, he shakes his head

it would be too much for you, he hadn’t had the time to properly stretch you, to prepare you, and he didn’t want to hurt you

Liu Kang promises you another time, and you whine in frustration, pulling away from his lips with a glare

your thighs tighten around his waist as you lift yourself up just enough so that the head of his cock notches against you, and before he can react, you sink down, choking back your own moan

he should lift you up, get you off of him before you hurt yourself, but he can’t find it in himself to take you off, your pussy sucking him in further and further until your hips finds themselves flush with his

you whine, head buried into the crook of his neck, and he breathes out harshly through his nose, straining every fiber of his being to not lift you up and begin fucking into you

it’s a brutal several minutes as you adjust to his size, taking in deep stuttering breaths as he murmurs into your ear to breathe, that you were doing so well for him

his thumbs rub circles into the sides of your skin as you calm down, and then you finally squirm impatiently on his dick, clenching your pussy around him and forcing a groan out of him

you moan, begging him to move, and Liu Kang tightens his grip on your legs and finally starts bouncing you on his cock, knocking any sense that you might have left in your brain

the lewd sounds of your pussy fill the air with your moans and whimpers, and Liu Kang wants to taste your pleasure, your desperation

he brings his lips to yours again, kissing you, swallowing every one of your sweet sounds as he thrusts up into you, trying to angle his hips to hit that one sweet spot

when you yelp into his mouth, stars bursting behind your eyelids and arms tightening around his neck, he smiles against your lips and fucks into the spot, making sure that the fat head of his cock bullies relentlessly into it

you swear you’re being lifted into the heavens, higher than the heavens actually, pleasure singing through every nerve in your body and your orgasm was hurtling towards you faster than you had ever known

Liu Kang finally pulls away, and you’re sure that you look dazed and already fucked out

in the haze of your pleasure, you almost miss him telling you to do something, and you have to let out a pathetic what, interrupted by a pitiful whine as he fucks back into your sweet spot

he tells you to rub your clit, his voice rumbling through you and straight down as you hear a loud squelch

but you comply immediately, craving your release, feeling dizzy by how he surrounds you, and your fingers rub against your clit slowly and lightly

his eyes are transfixed on the sight, the bud swollen and coated in your wetness, and he tells you to pinch it, to be rough

pleasure already overwhelms you, but you listen, body shaking and hand struggling as you overstimulate yourself, pinching and rolling your clit between your fingers

Liu Kang practically purrs, telling you to keep doing that, to keep listening to him and being so good for him, groaning as he feels your pussy pulse around him in tandem with how you play with your clit

you can’t even warn him as you cum on his cock, keening loudly and rubbing at your clit in tight rough circles as you ride your high

the god just shoves his mouth to yours, devouring you completely as you lose yourself, his hips never stopping, never changing as he fucks you through your pleasure

only when you feel the last of your orgasm dribble out does his hips falter, and he groans into your mouth as he cums inside of you, fucking it deeper and deeper inside of you with each slowing thrust

eventually, he stops, his cock still buried inside of you, and he just kisses you, enjoying how you taste him as well, how you grow more gentle with your lips as your body starts to sag from exhaustion

Liu Kang helps you to your feet, smiling internally when you look up at him and ask in a feeble voice if he could carry you

he obliges, because how he could he not, and picks you up, the bend of your knees supported by one arm while his other arm supported your upper back

your arms wrap around his neck once more, and you tuck your head in against his chest, eyes closing slightly as you mumble that you don’t think you can walk anymore

glancing down at the mess you and he had made on the floor, he’s not surprised and presses a kiss to the top of your forehead as he brings you back to your room

he had you in his arms now, and he wasn’t going to let go

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok but what if

What if Ghost was a knight (again) and then there's a spoiled, presumptuous lady who's bored (again)

She's the kind of princess who was dearly loved because she was a girl. No one knows why, because everyone knows girls are a liability. But she has been treasured and sheltered all her life, she always got everything she wanted, and now she's stupid enough to fall for Simon who has lived a life full of war and torment and who is not the kind of stray dog you would want to feed.

Our poor lady doesn't know she's playing with fire when she's toying with her father's (Price?) most loyal soldier: a brooding, tall, broad man who got his knighthood after this campaign or that. This outlander, Simon, catches her attention because he rarely speaks and never smiles, but makes her smallclothes wet because he has an ill look about him: a broken nose and a thin lipped, downturned mouth. This sir is looking everyone from under his brow like they're mere children in his eyes. The only time she's heard him speak is when he's barking orders in the courtyard.

She teases and teases and teases him: flirting every chance she can get, giving him soft brushes that barely remain within the bounds of propriety. She bestows heated stares that linger a little too long, she licks and parts her lips when they walk past each other in the cold, dimly lit corridors of the castle. He never returns any of her flirts.

Except the stares.

She can feel his eyes on her even when she's not looking. That coal-like stare is fixed on her wherever she goes: it's hot and cold at the same time, like embers that are kindling under long-forgotten ashes.

He's interested… But only in a way that a hungry, beaten, suspicious dog is interested when it's staring at a meaty bone, trying to decode if it's a treat or a trap.

He finally has enough one day when she dares to smile at him: softly, knowingly, like a whore in a tavern.

The gauntlet closes around her neck like an iron collar. She can smell the horses and the sweat and the dirty leather as the man she has dreamed of seizes her and pushes her back against a wall.

"Is this what you want? Hm?"

She finally hears him speak: dark, gravelly, and borderline exhausted from all the games she plays. Were he to hold her a little more tightly, she would call it a choke, a soft and slow strangling. The intensity is enough to make her heart flutter and her stare escape somewhere to the grey stone wall. There's no way she can meet that heated stare, now filled with flames and lust.

The knight she used to fantasize about is about to snap. The stoic, cold man is about to lose control at any given moment, and she's about to lose her maidenhood along with that shattered self-control.

He presses his whole body against her: leather and steel and hardened muscle, all that rough, well fed, thick flesh forged in countless battles is pressed against her frame like she is nothing but a flower. Her woolen dress is a poor shield against all the hard ridges of his armour, the pommel of his sword digs into her side painfully, but she pays it no mind. There's something equally as hard and demanding pressed against the apex between her legs. She's forced to rise to her toes from the way he drives his swollen cock up her cunt, and even if there's layers and layers of clothing between them, she can feel the heat of him.

"'S not a good idea to tease a starved dog," he snarls while watching her lose her confidence. All of it, because it was only ever a charade. A silly daydream of a silly young woman, just an attempt to distract herself, a pastime game that happened to turn into a dangerous obsession.

And he growls. He actually growls like a hound when she's suddenly so weak she can't even provide him with an answer. It's a dark rumble that meets her chest, a hot, slow breath that passes across her frightened skin. She feels like floating: his cock raises her from the ground as he tries to fuck into her through their clothes. The ironclad hand has never even seen mercy as it turns her head to the side for him to have a good sniff of her neck and hair.

"Sir," her lips tremble; her whole jaw is making it clear that she's about to cry soon. There's not enough stones on the wall for her to count if he decides to take her here. "Simon…? Please, sir. I'm a virgin…"

[charnelhouse]

I’m not saying soap would definitely eat ghosts cum out of red but …

A/N: Ghost x F!Reader (Red Fox) x Soap. Mentions of painful sex/dp.

It’s between the three of them. The moments are rare, but they happen. All those near-death experiences. All that bloodshed and adrenaline working through them like dry, rasping kindling ready for a fire. 

“Fuck, lass,” Soap mumbles against her throat, fingers knotting in her hair. “Yah make me feel like I'm burnin’.”

She’s trembling, her lashes wet and clumped together, and a terrible bruise creeping across her cheekbone, swelling something fierce. Ghost’s enormous hands latch onto her hips. He cocks his head, blue eyes breaking ground as they meet Soap’s. It took him a long time to realize that Simon even had blue eyes due to all the coal-dark​​ war paint hiding the truth of them.

Simon’s thumb sweeps over the bruise on Red’s cheek. He presses his naked lips to it, and she shudders. “I’d kill the bastard again,” he declares. “I’d kill him a thousand fuckin’ times, duchess.”

Soap seals his front to her back, touching her between her legs. He lives for how she gets wet and locks up tight like a monkey fist knot.

He calls her a calamity. He calls her a hurricane, banshee, and siren and says it with so much deference that you’d think he was the one in love, not Simon.

Fuck it. Maybe, he is. 

Maybe, he’s a foolish mad cunt. 

***

When he walks in on them, he isn’t sure if it’s an accident or another invitation. 

He assumes that nothing Red or Ghost do is ever unintentional. 

The hallway is full of shadows and gray-blue moonlight. 3 am. A safe house in Cork. The air here smells like yellow furze and cider, and Red demanded they take her to the butter museum. 

Ghost has her cheek shoved against the wall as he fucks her from behind. Her linen sleep shorts are around her ankles, her back arched, and her legs kicked apart. Ghost claims her in long, powerful strokes, and she’s nearly forced onto her toes each time he drives to the hilt. The flesh of her ass quivers, and her teeth flash white as she bites down on her lower lip. 

Their noises are low and quiet - everything wrapped in tissue paper and wool. 

He steps closer, and Ghost turns his head to look at him. His mask is on, his eyes glinting like bits of black glass as he coaxes her through it. Soap doesn’t know what Ghost calls her in the dark. He doesn’t know everything they discuss when they’re curled up together, when they communicate through expression alone. 

He watches as Ghost’s pace grows sloppy. He’s breathing hard, his hand on her waist visibly tightening as he braces his other hand on her shoulder. Soap continues forward. The team is sleeping below them. Just a floor away. 

He knows he won’t get instructions here. This is all just instinct. The three of them functioning as a single unit as they have done out on the field. The only wrinkle in the fabric is that he can’t wind himself into the golden net that holds them together. 

You must love her then.

Shut up, Johnny.

He knows he has a place with them, more so than the rest of the team, but sometimes he wishes he could have more. He wishes he could absorb the two of them to understand what scuttles through their heads day in and day out. 

“Fuckk,” Simon rasps, sinking to the root as he empties himself. “Good girl…bloody fuckin’ good for me….I want-”

The words dwindle to red-hot coals. He whispers them into her ear so that Soap misses the rest. 

It’s not an accident. 

When he eases himself out of Red, she flinches. Simon’s cock hangs heavy between his legs, shiny with Red’s cunt. Soap wonders if he’s branded her insides, if he’s left his mark by stretching her to her limit. Soap scrubs a hand over his jaw before pushing a lock of Red’s hair out of her eyes. “Too sore for me, bonnie?”

Foxy. Red. Red. Red. 

Sometimes all he can see is the color red: sunsets, blood, wine, and cough medicine. 

She leans into Soap’s touch. “No,” she returns - all sharp and sturdy. It would take a million sticks of dynamite to unmoor her. “I can take you, Johnny.”

Once, they’d fucked her at the same time. Simon worked his way into her ass as Soap kept her impaled on his cock. It was too much. Even though they’d prepped her, she was digging her nails so deeply into Soap’s shoulders he started bleeding. She didn’t say a word. She wouldn’t admit failure until Simon finally had to stop because he could sense it, smell it off her. It was like his special telepathy: knowing when Red was in pain. 

I want to be part of it - part of that. 

Soap had had various girlfriends throughout his life. First loves. Temporary affairs. 

Not like this. Nothing like this. 

She flips her hair over her shoulder as she casts Soap one of those Siren-stares that uproot him, shove him off his axis. He moves behind her, dragging a palm down her spine, catching in the wrinkles of her cotton shirt. Ghost is tucking himself back into his pants before leaning against the wall, massive arms crossing over an enormous chest. 

“Be good to her, Johnny,” he warns. 

“When is he not?” Red murmurs defensively, and oh, that rides his lungs, fills his chest with warmth and flickering wings. She trusts him. 

“I know,” Ghost mutters. “I know that.

Soap likes that too. 

“What’s he done to you, lass,” he husks as he crouches, his hands on her ass as he spreads her apart so he can see what Ghost has done to her pussy. It’s dark, all soaked and swollen as milky seed drips down the lips of her sex and the insides of her thighs. 

He wants to do something new. Imbibe both of them. He wants a piece of what they have, and they’ve already given him a key. His off-white invitation. 

Slowly, he leans forward and glides the flat of his tongue through her folds. She shivers and jerks a little, and Soap knows he’s caught her off guard. He presses harder, and buries his face into her from behind. It practically forces her up the wall, onto her toes, just as Ghost did as he fucked her. 

He laps indecently, flicks her clit, and teases her entrance. He savors the salt and the skin, and his face is so embedded into her ass and cunt that he might just meld with her flesh. He feels Ghost trace his hairline with a gloved finger before he fists his short hair. It encourages Soap to lick further and then pump his fingers into her already fucked-out pussy.  

The act of it is crude and filthy. It’s nothing he’s ever done before, and it makes him painfully aroused. He can’t imagine what the rest of 141 would see if they crept up the stairs and found them. Soap on his knees, spreading his teammate open as he devours L.T. 's come out of her.

Doesn’t matter. 

None of it does. 

It’s theirs. Just this. This interlude in a moonlit hallway miles from their next mission.

[kumiaku]

Kinktober Day 20 - Oral Fixation (Laios)

Kinktober Day 20 - Oral Fixation, Laios Touden x Reader, Dungeon Meshi

Masterlist

Misc. Tags - gn reader, blood is drawn but dw its just a nick from a knife, in true kumiaku fashion cannibalism is mentioned, oral fixation, finger sucking, comedy, shenanigans, laois is implied to be a virgin, cunnilingus/ass eating - hole is used for gn-ness, praise

WC - 1,135

Nsfw under cut

It was day two of being separated from the rest of the group, no Marcille, no Senshi, no Chilchuck, you were stuck with Laios. It wasn’t too bad, he was a very genuine person, but listening to his voice could become a bit grating after a while. You scrunched your mouth to the side as you continued to peel the potato looking thing you picked up, whilst Laios was busy telling you how it related to the man-eating plants and the ways in which it might’ve traveled down floors. 

You almost let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, some ache on either side of your temples felt as if your head was being squashed together, then your knife slipped - and you sucked in a sharp breath. A line of red cut diagonally across your finger tip, it didn’t hurt too bad, but it’d be hell until you could get it patched up by Marcille. Holding weapons, spoons, opening doors, every meaningless everyday task would be impeded by the slight ache. 

Laios paused his infodumping, your name leaving his lips as he walked over, peering at your bloody finger, “oh, that doesn’t look too good.” It was closer to a murmur than anything else as he grabbed hand with his warm hands and raised it up, holding it over your head. “You should keep it over your head, I think.” 

You nodded, turning your head to search for the bandages you had in your bag, “yeah, I got some bandages in my pack. It’ll be fine, ‘s not too deep.” 

It really didn’t hurt too badly, just felt warm, searing almost, and strange that the same sweltering liquid began to run down your finger. You looked back over briefly, only to see a slightly panicked look on Laios’ face and in the next second, he pulled your arm backwards and up, trapping your bleeding finger in his mouth. 

You let out some indignant squeak, anger blistering under your skin as you turned to him - only for it to be raked over the coals and instead leaving some low and slow simmering heat in your stomach. His mouth moved around your finger, tongue dragging across the cut and collecting the blood, scratching just enough for it to pinch but enough that it didn’t hurt. 

Whatever words you would’ve shouted left your mouth with your breath, lungs emptied as you stared at him, face burning with blood but not anger. Maybe it was some underlying admiration for Laios and his borderline unhinged knowledge and fascination for monsters, or maybe you were simply starving for touch after the past couple months, but damn that was hot. 

You openly stared at him, mouth ajar, until he opened his eyes and looked at you quizzically, pulling back and licking his lips... before speaking. “I thought you were getting the bandages.” 

If you were flushed before, you were glowing now, fumbling with your back and one hand quickly grabbing the bandages as if you weren’t just openly, and hungrily, staring at Laios. “Ahah, yeah, here!” You hand them off to him, hoping he doesn’t ask anymore questions - wait. 

You purse your lips as you watch him wrap the bandages around your small wound, most of the blood already cleaned up by Laios’ lips. Did you want him to ask more questions? This moment would surely haunt your dreams, so did you just want to take the chance given? 

You eyed the unfinished lunch preparations, then the small smile on Laios’ face. And a weight settled in your stomach as you sunk your decision into place. “Hey, Laios. How hungry are you?” 

“Hm - oh well, pretty hungry I’d say.” He released your hand and looked down at the preparations already made, “though a good amount of our ingredients were with Senshi, we were lucky to stumble upon those man eating plants earlier, but we have to skin all of them to prepare them, dice them, then use the-” 

“That sounds like a lot of work.” You interrupt him, pressing your lips out into a pout and your voice more secretive and sultry, “Y’know, you could eat me instead.” 

Laios paused, he slowly turned his head to the point where you could hear the gears grinding, tilting it then having the audacity to ask, “isn’t that cannibalism?” 

“NO!” You shook your head, hand coming up to your forehead, flush on your cheeks almost too much to bear, but you chose to just bear through it, you’d already come this far after all. “I meant - I meant like in a sexy way.” 

“Oh.” Laios closed his eyes and let out a semi-relieved sigh, then he paused, opening his eyes and locking his eyes to yours again. “OH.” 

It was like a switch had been flipped and his expression morphed into one of open mouthed redness. You watched him, letting the idea steep in his mind for a second, shifting your legs slightly from where you sat. 

“You mean - like -” Laios again tried to clarify, his shocked expression not exactly gone yet. 

You sucked in a breath and more confidently nodded, “yup, that’s what I mean. It’s up to you, of course, but it’s something I think I’d really enjoy.” 

“Wait - what brought this up?” Laios’ flush died down somewhat as his hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, his eyes having a hard time focusing on just you. “I mean - I would, will, I will but -”

“Your tongue.” You tap your finger to his mouth again, a small bit of pain resonates beneath the bandages, more than it hurt earlier, but dulled through sheer warmth settling in your lower stomach. “It was hot.” 

Laios nodded like he was studying your response, but it didn’t take long for him to sink to his knees before you, hands on your knees, spreading them with you. You positioned yourself accordingly, settling your weight differently but still trying to keep an eye on Laios as he removed your undergarments. 

He almost seemed to look at you for guidance for a couple seconds before resolving himself and experimentally flicking his tongue around your hole. You watched him with stifled breaths, before realizing that it would probably be better if you gave him more verbal encouragement. “That’s good.” You nodded, voice only a tad more breathy than usual. 

Your idea of praise did seem to work, as he was a bit more forthcoming, soft instructions from you leading to more vigor on Laios’ part as he worked to settle into this position. It wasn’t long before that accursed tongue of his truly began to take action inside of you and his voracious appetite was truly pushed to the front. His mouth seemingly a black hole devouring you and the moans that slipped from your lips.

[darlingdreadwrites]

Halloween (She's So Mean)

THIS IS A SECOND PART OF AN AU. IF THIS IS THE FIRST POST YOU SEE, I SUGGEST YOU CLICK ON THIS (“MAIN STORY”) TO READ THE FIRST PART OF THIS AU!!

pairing: Jeff the Killer x GN!Reader

summary: After arriving at Mr. Mann’s Manor of Frights, you decide to walk around.

contains: haunted house with jeff, scare actor jeff, making out and it’s slightly nsfw (under the red divider!!)

warnings: name calling (slut is used), he’s dressed as a murderous clown with blood on him and a fake knife

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

a.n: don’t be following or shamelessly flirt with scare-actors unless you know them personally and they’re ok with it PLEASE

“I want to just walk around,” you tell your friends. They nodded, walking deeper into the festival grounds.

Every few seconds, screams and laughter surround you – all thanks to the scare-actors scattered about. You feel a buzzing thrill under your skin, a mixture of excitement and nervousness propelling you further. You glance at your left, unaware of a man ready to leap out at you.

“Gotcha!”

You stumble back with a yelp, bumping into one of your friends. The man before you, dressed like a murderous clown, laughs maniacally. His sleek, black leather jumpsuit is zipped down just enough to expose a provocative amount of lean, scarred skin of his torso. Blood is splattered over his pale skin. His makeup enhances his almost-white skin, with dark red eyeshadow sweeping across his eyelids and extending under his eyes. The classic clown look is evident in the sharp diamond shapes that stretch from above his eyebrows to his cheeks. A black upside-down cross is drawn on his forehead, while black face-paint is made to look like his mouth is stretched out. Streaks of dried blood trail from his red lips down to his chin, completing the scary look.

You barely have time to respond before he leans in with a devilish grin – your heart hammers in your chest.  You think he’s about to say something else but he only winks at you. He turns quickly to find his next victim, leaving you bewildered and breathless.

You and your friends continue to explore the festival, but your thoughts are stuck on that encounter. You wander through the festival, trying to shake off the chill that his presence left on you. But it doesn’t matter how many fun booths you pass or how many jokes your friends make, he has carved himself into your brain. You want to believe it was only because he effectively scared you.

You start to lose yourself in the atmosphere, the tension in your shoulders easing. The interaction seems to be behind you and your group has moved on to playing games. You’re standing near a brightly lit game stall, watching as your friend fails to properly throw a ball at a bottle. You laugh as another friend steps up to help – only to fail just as terribly.

“Miss me?” Someone whispers, their breath hot on your ear.

You spin toward him, coming face to face with the scare-actor from earlier. He’s so close that you can smell the leather of his suit and a faint scent of nicotine. He laughs sharply, causing you to shrink back against a wall behind you. When he pulls back his arm way too swiftly, you almost scream.

“You’re so hot!” You blurt out without thinking, closing your eyes tightly. Oh, fuck. You’re supposed to be scared. His job is to scare you, and here you were, declaring how hot you think he is.

Your eyes go wide in horror, and you seem to have genuinely caught him off guard for a moment. His taunting grin falters, and his eyes are just as wide as yours. Your face feels like hot coal when he bursts out into loud laughter. He doubles over, one of his hands pressed against his stomach. Your friends join in on his laughter, and you would have kicked him if your embarrassment hadn’t caused you to freeze.

“Oh, god, you –“ he gasps for air between laughs. “What kinda reaction – Jesus!”

“That wasn’t – I didn’t mean to – “You stammer out. You’re absofuckinglutely mortified.

“Nah, nah, you can’t take that back,” he teases as he calms down. Before you can answer, he grabs your wrist and it’s surprisingly gentle. “Since you think I’m so hot, I’m takin’ you with me. That okay?”

“Okay – “

You barely have time to look back at your friends who are now cheering for you. You’d get them back for this for sure. He’s dragging you through the maze of people, and you have to fight to keep up. He’s leading you toward the mansion, undoubtedly heading to one of the haunted experiences. Curious festivalgoers in lines watch as he skips to the entrance of one.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he drawls, nodding at the worker who steps to the side to let you two in. he looks over his shoulder to flash you a smirk, but he’s also studying your reaction. “Unless you’re too scared.”

You’re too stunned and excited to resist, following silently behind him. A part of you really seems to like how he’s treating you. It was a strange mix of actions – like he was controlling you, but also giving you a chance to refuse. Not that you would refuse.

The inside of the attraction is dark and disorienting. The lights flicker above and cast eerie shows in the already creepy hallway. Every time an animatronic or an actor jumped out, you’d walk a little closer to Jeff. At one point, he got so tired of you practically squishing yourself against his arm that he just wrapped an arm around your shoulders. He pressed the palm of his hand against the side of your head, pulling you closer to him.

“What’s the matter?” He whispers, his lips lightly grazing your ear, and the warmth of his breath causes your brain to short-circuit. “Scared?”

Jeff is relentless, making jokes and flirting to break the tension. You attempt to match his energy, even if it is a bit shaky. A flurry of butterflies weighs heavily on your chest. He leads you down somewhere clearly off of the main path. He pulls back a curtain, revealing a door with a sign that reads “Employees Only.” He opens it with no issue before turning around. He stands in front of the dark corridor, the shadows framing his silhouette. He holds your wrist loosely, giving you another hint that you can stop this at any time.

“Wanna have some fun?” he asks, tilting his head. His tone then takes on a mocking lilt. “Promise I won’t bite… too hard.”

You hesitate for just a millisecond before stepping closer. That’s all the encouragement he needs, his grip on your wrist tightening. Who were you to say no?

“That’s my stupid little slut,” he purrs, walking backwards into the darkly lit hallway and pulling you with him. He looks at you and back to the door – another exit, he seems to be telling you. But you don’t move.

He closes it and the sounds behind it immediately sound muffled and distant. He stares down at you with a charged mischief that almost has your knees buckling. He holds up his prop knife, the flat side of the plastic blade lightly tapping against your cheek. He leans in, his breath hitting your face.

“Last chance to run, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low. He’s surprisingly considerate as his eyes search yours for any hint of uncertainty.

You’re too caught up in the moment to respond as your hands tangle into Jeff’s hair to pull him into an open-mouthed kiss. He doesn’t waste a second, immediately closing the distance. You can taste the copper that lingers in his mouth – fake blood, probably – but it only adds to the intoxicating thrill of the moment.

Your back hits the cold wall, the sharp pain tingling just enough to make you crave his closeness even more. He nips at your lower lip and grips your waist tightly. As his tongue delves into your mouth, one of his knees slips between your legs. He rolls his knee lightly against your clothed groin, the fabric of your jeans stimulating you just right. You moan into his mouth, and he drinks it up greedily, his slippery muscle sliding against yours.

Your hand presses flat against his stomach, the warmth mixing with the heat of your palm. Neither of you seemed to remember – or care – about the blood on his torso. It was dried by now, so, as you trailed your hand up his chest, the substance flaked off onto your hand.

You don’t know how long you had been gone, but all you knew was that you had lots of fun. You just didn’t think what you had done was obvious. That was until your friends squealed when you came back, pointing at and teasing you about the makeup staining the area around your mouth.

[rustedhearts]

black swan: a severed lamb continuation

(pastor!steve harrington x fem!reader)

summary: pastor steve pays you a visit at college "on behalf of your mother."

♰ roller girl’s pie stand! 🍒 ♰ severed lamb ♰ 'tis autumn

tags: this is a blurb, not a “part” of the series!!; age gap (steve is 35, reader is 19); religious manipulation + regular manipulation; fear + intimidation; stalking i guess; a loooot of religious guilt; actual scripture quoted; forced prayer; like almost dollification; pls do not read this if any of this makes you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. (did not edit, don’t come for my mistakes.)

for @softagardenblooms ⭐️ giving us all what we really want: more pastor!steve <3 sorry it took so long!

rural pennsvylvania, autumn, 1981

Outside the iron lattice of your Lane Hall window, an early winter brewed. The leaves turned and died quickly, and those that clung to their boughs appeared rusted and limp. Walking through campus was now a noisy feat. The soil seemed eternally damp and dull, what grass remained more blonde than green. The thing you missed most about Georgia was the robin's egg sky. Here, everything was grey.

The glass of the window fogged terribly. The girls in Lane cranked the heat up high enough to have an excuse for minimal clothing, yet the outdoors remained bitterly cold.

In an effort to enjoy a moment of quiet solitude in your room, you stood from the creaky wooden bed and wiped your palm over the window. It squeaked over the condensation, creating a streak of clarity to the street of houses below.

A maroon two-door waited on the curb across the black road. It had an Indiana license plate.

"Delilah? You got a visitor!" one of the girls called from outside your room.

You stepped back from the window, lowering your hand and its cold fingertips to your side. Another cold swept through you, settling somewhere in your chest. As bitter as a Pennsylvanian autumn, and as a sour as a cherry from your tree back home. The cherry that once stained his fingers, dipping between his mouth and your mouth.

Bloody fingers that delivered evil through pleasure.

Bred to obey the calling command of male visitors, you turned away from your bed and started toward the door. But you stopped on the toe of your socked foot.

You could feign slumber. But he came in when you were sick and tired.

You could hide in the closet. Your eyes darted toward the lone door near your desk. But he always knows where to find you.

You swallowed as your hand touched the door. It yawned open on its hinges. Immediately, the murmuring of the girls scattered amongst their rooms and the lower floor emitted in a low hum. The floor released little snaps with each step toward the stairs. The Hall was old and worn, taped over with celebrity posters and glittered name stamps.

As you took the first step, another cold gathered. This one in your belly, behind your navel where that sweet, sickening, nauseating pleasure festered under his hands and his touch. You pressed your hand there, pausing on the second step to take a breath.

You could feel him.

The way you felt him from the moment he arrived back home. How he lingered in every room with the omnipotence of his Savior. How his stare sat like hot coals upon your shoulders from across the room. How the promise of his hands came with the fleeting breeze of his body in your vicinity.

His presence had a warmth and a wholeness to it that made your throat tighten. Like being locked in a tight, black room that grows tighter and yet seemingly vaster with every second inside. As though the limits of the darkness are endless, though its bounds are tangibly sworn.

"Delilah? Deli—oh, here she is!" one of the older girls, Rachel, cooed as she collected you with a hand around your arm on the steps.

She came bounding down, and you swore it was only because she pulled you that your feet remembered to go.

He stood tall in the center of the lounge, barely past the doorframe, feet still angled to go further. They flocked around him like pigeons, pecking at the affections of his slow, sideways smile, and roaming gaze. It turned to you as your hall mate pulled you into the room.

You could have sworn something pierced your lung, eliminating all possibilities of keeping in air.

“Hello, Delilah.”

His voice hit you like the gong of a church bell at noon. Familiar, expected, but with a resonance of something to come. An image of his eyes hovering over you while his hands swept through your nightgown flashed through your mind. You had to pinch away a shudder.

“H-hi,” you murmured, and cast your eyes down to your socks.

“She’s always so shy,” another girl piped up. “Lilah, aren’t you gonna introduce us?”

A warmth spread to every inch of your face. It singed the tips of your ears. You fiddled with the strings on your bed shorts, suddenly feeling bare. Though he had seen you in far less—had seen you as bare as the day you were born—you could not fathom to stand before him like this with the audience growing in the lounge.

“I’m Steve,” he said for you, and cast a smile upon the girls that had them elbowing each other. “But I’m afraid we can’t stay for pleasantries, girls. Delilah and I were just headin’ out.”

Your eyes flitted toward him, a panic setting like stone in your limbs. “R-really?”

He seemed to only look at you, though the girls tipped and cocked their heads to assess him and his garb, alternating between his corduroy jacket and your tattered sleep clothes.

“Yes,” he purred, and the smile the others swooned at made you take the smallest step backwards. “I’ll wait while you change.”

♰ ♰

It took you another ten minutes to change, fumbling through every drawer and hanger knowing everything he'd ever touched you in was packed away and left back home, and nothing in your collection seemed worthy enough to dispense so easily.

When you met him on the lawn, his eyes went directly to your chest, where he became accustomed to finding the gleaming gold of a delicate cross. Today, it came up bare.

He said nothing of it as he turned toward the car, and you followed with silent, tip-toed steps. You kept a distance as you passed through the door he opened for you and took your place on the leather passenger seat.

The cold condensation of a milk carton between your thighs against the sticky heat of a Georgian summer haunted the car. Even in the white-breathed cold settling in the car, you felt a scorching heat crawling up your spine. You pulled at your sweater sleeves to invite the cold in.

The car jostled when he slammed the driver door. You kept your eyes on the dash, fingers curling into your palms as he turned the keys in the ignition.

"Your mama's worried about you," is the first thing he says to you.

You wet your lips, turning to the window to watch the street go by. The town was built for the university's accommodation. The library marked the edge of town, and everything past that was farmland and desolation. You hoped he wasn't taking you there.

HIs statement settled like spoiled milk. You wanted to proclaim it a lie immediately. Mama hadn't answered a letter once this semester. Every weekend phone call went unanswered. You called one of the neighbors and asked them to check on her in case the liquor finally got the best of her. But they assured you she was doing well. Just busy.

Yet, he wouldn't lie...right? He wouldn't drive the half day it took for his own pleasure, would he? He once told you that God sent you here for him, that God placing the pair of you in the same vicinity was no mistake. God does not make mistakes, he said. And He always has a plan.

You were His plan for Steve.

At least, that's what he told you.

"I can see why," he continued.

Your head moved on its own, and you were looking at the frown etched between his brows before you could stop yourself. He took glances every few moments as he headed away from the residence halls into campus. Few times they fell to your empty neck.

Your fingers ached to fiddle with the missing token. You hadn’t worn it in months. When you left home, you left the necklace on your dresser. It grew more and more difficult as the weeks went on—free of the Georgia heat and all that grey hazy because of it—to believe you were worthy of wearing the cross. Worthy of speaking to Him knowing what you’d done.

“Oh, Delilah,” he sighed and he shook his head out at the road. “You poor thing.”

He took a turn down the main strip of campus buildings and fit the car into a spot against the curb of your most-frequented. The ballet studio, unlike your splintered and rotting barb back home, nestled on the second floor of a red brick building home to the arts. Steve took his keys from the ignition and opened the door with the sureness of someone like you, who spent most of their days there.

“Come on,” he said when the passenger door was open.

You stepped onto the sidewalk, avoiding his outstretched hand. He placed it on the small of your back as he guided you up the steps and through the door. Your shoes, having collected the dampness of the pavement, squeaked over the gleaming tile. This hall always had a chemically lemon scent to it, and today it made you particularly queasy.

"Up here, isn't it?" He pushed the heavy door open to the stairwell and the steel latch echoed hollowly against the concrete.

His hand seemed to be locating your spine. Reaching for it, through the material of your cardigan, through the thickness of your flesh. The bone ached dully with every step upward. Around the chipped iron railings, winding through the twists of the building. His loafers were black and recently shined. He'd taken to wearing a gold band around his pinkie. His fingers were as long and slender as you remembered, but his skin appeared paler.

It was no longer summer and the cold was an affliction to the body.

Another door thrown open to another linoleum-tiled hall. You traced the black streak marks from boots and sneakers like a set path to the arched doorway to the studio. At the end of the hall, a large latticed window overlooked the yellowed lawn. Often after rehearsals, bundles of ballerinas squished within the bow of the windowsill and blew cigarette smoke against the glass. Permanent fog marks gathered at mouth-height.

The studio was empty. Four mirrored walls, ever-polished hardwood floors the color of sand. Barres cleaned of blood from blistered heels, and a cushioned folding chair near the head of the room, pressed against the mirror. It was the seat of Madame Celeste, the slender, wrinkled woman who commanded the company.

Today, it was empty.

You jolted when the wooden doors clamped shut behind you. The pressure in your spine released and when you turned, it became evident why. He stood before the doors with his hands behind his back, long coat unbuttoned to reveal the white band of his Roman collar. The black shirt of his permanent uniform remained buttoned to the top, snug against his throat.

He fixed his eyes upon you with the intention of a wolf.

Oh, yes. You remembered how this felt. It was almost as though you'd never left.

The blackness of your confinement began to close in around you.

He inhaled deeply and it whistled through his nose. Your own breath shuddered into the room. Madame Celeste did not believe in heat and kept the radiator off. Even when bolts of snow gathered on the window in the hall, the dancers were made to spin until sweat managed to appear. It never took long.

And now, a cold sweat festered under your sweater.

"I am fearful of what I see here," he proclaimed. His gaze left you to trace the room, taking a large step away from the door. The clunk of his shoe resounded like a gunshot.

"'What are you doing, you devastated one? Why dress yourself in scarlet and put on jewels of gold? Why highlight your eyes with makeup?'"

You swallowed as he began to pace the room. Hands settled against his back, one hand closed over the other. Each step like a bullet inching closer to your place in the center of the room. Each word like a slice against your flesh. Stinging, piercing, bleeding you out. He would not look at you and you grew smaller by the second.

"'You adorn yourself in vain,'" he emphasized, shaking his head down at his feet.

His hands had released to press his fingers together as they often did at mass. While he preached and prophesied, and chewed off more of your soul with every syllable. The room felt as off kilter as the chapel back home.

He stopped suddenly before the rear wall of mirrors and fanned his arms wide.

"Vanity!"

You stumbled back with another gasp. A vein protruded between his brows, eyes filled with serpentile venom.

"All this..." He spun slowly, a performative flair that rivaled even yours. His voice dropped to a whisper nearly drowned out by your own pulse. "...mere vanity."

He took a moment, eyes still trained on the mirrors behind you. The proclamation hung in the thin air of the room. Your fingers felt numb pressed into tight fists against your back.

He tipped his chin down and blinked at you. Slowly. There were no charming grins or sideways smiles. There was no softness to the beauty of his features.

“You’ve abandoned God.”

Your hand touched your bare chest. He tracked your movement with his eyes. Stepped closer. One, two—you could feel the warmth of him again. It buzzed in your feet. His proximity stirred a nausea in your gut.

“But I will save you,” he whispered, touching his hand to his chest.

His foot thumped on the floor. Another step. Inching his way to you. The gap between your bodies: shorter, shorter. You jerked backward when you could feel his breath.

He moved one hand your way, palm cupped and fingers bent as though approaching a kitten in the road. He hunched his shoulders a little, lowered a little closer to your eye-line. Every breath taken felt like a load on your lungs. Like at any moment they’d explode from the pressure.

“You will be saved,” he breathed.

The serpent had abandoned him, and its place was something dangerously soft. With warm, round eyes and cinched brows, he appeared transformed in a near instant.

How one gazes upon an infant in the cold. A thing to save. A token of helplessness.

Both hands approached you now, outstretched at shoulder length. You tipped your head away from his incoming presence, eyes squeezing shut when he took hold of your shoulders and spun you around. Every muscle in your body came to a cold front. They cemented together, and maneuvering your body felt like turning a mannequin.

“Kneel,” he murmured. “He wants us to pray.”

He guided you there, and your black tight-clad knees collided into the floorboards with a dull, painful thump. You kept your eyes shut, but heard another pair of knocks behind you. A mirrored vision of your kneeling, he kept arm’s length between your feet and his hands, now letting you go to retrieve the leather bound bible in the pocket of his coat.

The spine tapped on the floor. You could hear a nose drip in the silence. Your own blinks registered with tiny clicks.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name.”

It was as though someone had scrubbed the inside of your mouth with sandpaper. With the vigor of a rusted pan and a woolite sponge, leaving the soft pink tissue of your inner cheeks and writhing tongue raw, useless, and scarred.

Your mouth could not utter the pastor’s words.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass us.”

His own voice was that of an instrument, hollowed with an echo that reverberated through your spine and around the room like a boomerang. Like whistling into a cave and waiting for the pitch to make its way back.

Your fingers curled over your knees and grabbed on tight. Every tiny bone in those ten ligaments began to ache.

“And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever.”

In the lull, his breaths were heavy. Shallow gasps rasped in the emptiness behind you.

He waited, and he watched. He watched your shoulders rise and fall, your toes curl against the thin suede of a pair of ballet flats. You left your new pointe shoes back in Georgia. Against your every attempt to banish him to the past, Steve wriggled through the gaps.

The pointe shoes came in the mail a month ago.

Steve inhaled sharply, and you squinted one eye open to find him in the wall of mirrors. His chest ballooned, head tipped back to the florescents. After all this time, this was the first you'd seen him worship.

“Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name," he began again, and you hung your head toward your knees with a wince.

“Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass us.”

Tears stung behind your eyes. His Sunday Morning Mass bravado distorted every syllable of his prayer. Your eardrums quaked with the birth of a buzzing.

“And lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory- say it!"

The bible slammed into the ground with a thundering boom. Your entire body lurched forward with a shriek, setting forth the cry building in your throat.

Through wavering vision, you watched him crawl forward and hover near your shoulders. It took only a moment for to realize that the horrible whining sound was coming from you.

“F-for ever a-and ever,” you croaked, blinking hot tears into the reflection before you.

The pastor stood, towering behind you in the mirror. A menacing shadow, once more the serpent with fangs.

You sniffled, bubbling forth a pitiful hiccup when he placed his hand on your shoulder. His fingers danced over the bone for only a moment before they swept under your chin. He turned your face toward him, shoes thumping around your knees until he stood beside you.

You gave in to his wishes, allowing your gaze to meet those reptilian eyes.

It was only a matter of time before your weakness divulged. Only a matter of time before he sunk his teeth in again.

The slightest pressure pulled on your chin, just as he stepped back and held out his hand, palm upended.

Each blink came with warmth on your cheeks, every breath with fire in your lungs. You slipped your hand into his palm and pressed to your feet.

He lifted your hands, only gently cupped together. Gave his wrist the smallest curve, enough space between your bodies for you to twirl.

You pressed to the tops of your toes and spun just once. A complete rotation, heels pressed down once more. You were met with a vision of yourself before you: red-eyed and puffy, and holding the hand of the devil.

From behind you, he collected both your hands. Held them upwards, bent the elbows with another feathered pressure. You sank back to the floor with graceful repose. Every fiber of your being yawned for relief. The weight of his presence fatigued.

On the glossy floor, you knelt in your former position of prayer. He caught your eye in the mirror and smiled.

From the inner lining of his pocket—where the bible conjured from only minutes ago—appeared a chain of gold.

Unclasping the adornment, he swept it over your head and toward your throat. The pendant clung to your chest like a magnet, kissing your flesh in relief to be home.

You knew what it was before you could even find it in the mirror.

He clasped the chain around your neck and laid your hair back in place. Gently fluffed around your face, meticulously drawn over your shoulders. He watched all the while in the mirror, intently observing his own craftsmanship.

He pinched two fingers under your chin and nudged it downward. He tipped your head a little to the left. He bent the elbows a little more, placed your clasped hands on your right knee.

He stepped back.

Patted you twice on the head, and in the mirror, smiled.

“My lovely Delilah.”

He smoothed his hand down the back of your hair just once.

And there you sat, soaking the cross on your chest in tears.

Foolish girl. You can never escape the mark of God.