#when it’s the end of the world worst case scenario like that you have to make hard choices

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Everyone need to stop being so judgy about how bitchy Alpha-17 is, he’s just never gotten to experience the love and joy of having an entire strawberry cheesecake with whipped cream to himself. You’d want to blow up thousands of your unborn siblings intending to spare them from the even crueler hands of the enemy compared the brutality of your creators too if you’ve never had an ounce of sugar in your life, lay off my man.

[darkshrimpemotions]

The thing is, Guillermo being too kind and pure of heart to eat humans was always a fucking lie. Like??? Obviously, I think. And the Cannon Capital arc isn't really a departure for his character, it's us seeing all his worst traits highlighted in an environment that makes them MUCH less fun and sympathetic.

Guillermo has always been an intensely stubborn, self-serving character prone to tunnel vision who was willing to turn over pretty much every corner of his soul if it served his goals. Even if he did sometimes feel bad about it or force himself not to think about it so he wouldn't feel bad, he still did it.

He's still the guy who befriended people with the express purpose of luring them in to be killed. For years. He's still the guy who offered one of his oldest friends up to be murdered at an orgy, and only changed his mind at the very last second. He's still the guy whose version of trying to have a normal human life for once involved lying to pretty much every human in his life--his bio family and his boyfriend--about every aspect of his life but his name. He's still the guy who dismembered the corpses of his victims--yes they're still his victims even if he didn't strike the killing blows himself--in the front yard each morning with a dreamy smile on his face as he talked about the heart wanting what it wants.

Sacrificing Nandor to serve his goals at Cannon Capital is really not that different than sacrificing Jeremy to serve his goals as Nandor's familiar, except that in this case he had a lot more time to think about it and still did it, not via silence or omission but via a direct act of betrayal to Nandor's face. Perhaps it's because he never had to suffer any real consequences for his betrayal of Jeremy that no lessons were learned?

It's also really telling that when you reset Guillermo to his base state via sleep hypnosis, it's the sweetest, most wide-eyed and innocent version of him and STILL the first thing he does is offer himself up to be a vampire's familiar, all in a bid to have enough power that he can't ever be bullied again.

It's understandable. It's reprehensible. It's really ugly in a way that's harder to laugh off when you attach that to an extremely timely, familiar (heh) real-world scenario such as a venture capital firm that makes their money through shady real-estate deals that absolutely gut local livelihoods. But the Guillermo we're seeing right now is just as tunnel-visioned and stubborn and selfish as the Guillermo we've always known. We just very understandably like him less for it when it's real-world monsters we've all seen ruin real lives instead of fantasy monsters that are silly and fun to watch.

But this isn't out of character or off course or a step back. Guillermo is deep in denial and clinging to the Cannon Capital job because he can't face what he's lost as of the end of season 5. He's replaced Nandor with a master that's worse in every way, he's still clinging to the house while pretending he's separating himself, he's still sleeping on the remains of the makeshift coffin Nandor bought for him. He tells himself he is facing it and moving on, but I hope this time we all know that's a lie.

And I'm here for it when it all falls down around his ears, and he finally has to face himself. I'm really excited for it, actually!

[scarletemeterio]

hii, saw u wanted arcane requests. from what ive seen on tiktok, apparently jinx was able to escape after the explosion in the very last episode and survived and ran away on that blimp thing, so could u please write a jinx x fem reader where after the explosion, jinx comes to get reader and they run away together happily to another region to have a fresh start and have a quiet, peaceful life. 🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼 pls and thank you.

A Fresh Start (Jinx x Gn!reader)

Warnings: mentions of death, use of (Y/N) once

Genre: angst, hurt/comfort

Fandom: Arcane

Summary: see request

Word Count: 1.6k

No set pronouns for reader

•••

You still remembered every detail, every word said, replaying the moment in your head. You'd had a fight with Jinx, nothing serious you'd thought, but when she and Ekko found you, you could see the pain in her eyes. She came running to you, wrapping her arms around your neck.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean all those things I said,” she apologized, her voice breaking. “You've always been there for me, and I've been ungrateful about that.”

You hugged her tightly, with your arms surrounding her waist, hiding your face in her shoulder.

“It's okay, it doesn't matter now,” you mumbled. “Are you okay?” You asked, breaking apart and caressing her face.

She simply nodded, but you could read her like an open book, and you knew that there was something she wasn't telling you.

Before you could keep questioning her, Ekko decided to speak.

“I hate to interrupt the sweet moment and everything, but we have to hurry if we wanna survive,” he said. You gave him a confused look, slowly breaking your embrace with Jinx.

“Yeah, the world is basically about to end,” the girl said. And both she and the boy tried their best to give you all the information you needed, trying to come up with a plan.

When you were almost finished with the globe, Jinx pulled you apart for a moment, wanting to talk to you.

“I really am sorry about before," she started saying, “I just couldn't think straight at the moment and I took it out on you.”

“Hey, I said it was okay and I meant it,” you comforted her, grabbing her hand.

“I just don't want us to be on bad terms, we don't know what could happen out there,” she whispered, trying to hold back her tears.

“We're not on bad terms, okay? Don't worry about that, my love,” you answered, not wanting to think about the worst case scenario.

“Thank you for not giving up on me, (Y/N), I'm so lucky to have met you. You mean the world to me, and I love you so much.” Tears were already falling down her cheeks, making it hard to contain yours too.

“I love you, too, baby.” You pressed your foreheads together, closing your eyes to better savour the moment. “Don't worry, we're gonna be okay,” you tried to reassure her. “I'm not saying today will be easy, but we'll make it, and soon this will all be just a dark moment from the past.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck once again, not being able to control her sobs anymore. You were taken aback from the sudden action and her reaction. Her embrace was tight and almost filled with dread, almost as if she was certain something bad would happen. You decided to get those thoughts out of your head. Danger was knocking at the door, and you couldn't ignore it anymore; the moment to fight had come.

When you got to the fight scene, Vi quickly joined you, and so did Vander. Ekko took control of the globe, making it crash into the building, knocking the air out of your lungs. When you finally got back on your feet, you quickly went to help Vi and Jinx against Vander, but a hard blow at you was the last thing you remembered before losing consciousness.

You had no idea how long you were out of it. Ekko's figure was the first thing you saw when you woke up, and he helped you sit down slowly.

“Hey, easy there,” he said. “You got hit pretty badly.”

“I'm fine,” you groaned. “Where’s Jinx?” He ignored your eyes, tilting his head. “Ekko?”

He only had to look at you, and you could instantly feel the world crumble around you. Tears quickly flooded your eyes, still looking at the boy in front of you.

“Tell me it's not what I'm thinking,” you pleaded.

“She sacrificed herself to save Vi.”

You closed your eyes, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. You wanted it to be some sick joke, for her to get into the room and tell you that it wasn't true, that she was fine and you didn't have to worry about anything. But you knew her, and you knew something felt off about her in that last conversation you had. Turns out something bad did end up happening.

•••

Not many days had passed, the pain still fresh. You were lost in your thoughts, staring at the city in front of you. You were in the spot Ekko had shown you not long ago, trying to find a bit of peace in contrast to the mess in your head.

Life in Zaun was very unpredictable, which made it difficult to make long-term plans, but also made it easy to not get attached to anything nor anyone. But Jinx was the exception. You just couldn’t stop yourself from getting attached to her, and now you were suffering the consequences.

To be honest you wouldn’t really change anything, not even the pain you were feeling right now. Changing things would mean not even getting to know her, and you were grateful to have met her, to share your life with her. You were simply paying life’s price for love.

You suddenly felt a presence behind you, but you kept your gaze to the front.

“I'd really like to be alone, Ekko,” you said, assuming that the boy had come to check on you.

“I'm not Ekko.”

You froze in place. You had to be hallucinating, it had to be the only explanation. She was gone, and nothing would change that. You shook your head in disbelief, looking up at the sky.

“I'm even hearing her voice now,” you said. You could feel that presence even closer now, and you quickly grew frustrated with what you thought was your own mind. “Leave me alone!” You screamed, turning to the presence behind you and freezing once again when you finally saw her.

“Hey, it's me,” she whispered.

You quickly got up, never breaking eye contact.

“But- You- How?” It was all you could say, barely whispering, still not truly believing what you were seeing. She was right there.

“I guess being injected with crazy amounts of shimmer to keep me from dying had its perks,” she explained almost jokingly, trying to lighten up the mood. “I managed to escape the explosion.”

“But I don't understand. Why didn't you come back right away? Why let us believe you were dead?” You had a million questions in your head, and you could feel your heart beating like crazy.

“I needed everyone to believe it, to have a fresh start. Vi would never give up on me if she knew I was still alive; she'd follow me to the end of the world.”

You still kept your distance from her, it all seemed unreal. A few minutes ago you were grieving her, and now she was right in front of you, as beautiful as ever. But you felt anger inside you as well. She could've told you, she could've saved you from that horrible pain of thinking she was actually gone for good.

“You knew you were gonna fake it all along, didn't you?” You realized, thinking about that last conversation you two had. “That's why you were so emotional, so shaken and distressed.”

“Baby, I-.”

“You knew, right?” You interrupted her, voice cracking with your words.

“I did.”

You closed your eyes. You didn't really know when you'd started crying, but the tears kept falling down your face.

“You let me believe you were dead, Jinx! Dead!” You didn't even try to hide how emotionally distressed you were. You needed to let everything out. The blue-haired girl broke the distance between you two, holding you in her arms while you sobbed into her chest, quickly collapsing to the ground.

“I'm so sorry, baby. I made a mistake and I should've told you,” she said while running her hand through your hair. You could tell by her voice that she was also crying, filled with guilt. “I'm sorry, please forgive me.”

“I get why you did it,” you told her after a while. “I don't blame you for wanting peace, but you have no idea how much it hurt me to think that I'd lost you.”

She cupped your face and made eye contact with you before pressing your foreheads together. “I'm sorry,” she repeated, feeling like she could never say it enough times to express just how much she regretted not letting you know before.

“I'm just glad you're actually okay, love.” You leaned in to her touch, savouring the moment after such turmoil.

She gave you a kiss on your forehead before speaking.

“I want you to come with me,” she uttered.

“Come where?” You questioned.

“I don't know, away from here,” she replied. “I really want that fresh start, but I know that trying to live without you would be absolute hell. I've had many uncertainties in my life, but you just feel right. If there's something I'm sure of is that I love you, with every part of me.”

“I love you, too,” you told her. “And I'd also follow you to the end of the world.” You let out a hopeful smile, and so did she before cupping your face to kiss you.

Her lips against yours felt absolutely right, like it was just the way it had to be, forever and ever. You belonged together, and there was nothing you wanted more than to build a future with her, away from all the ghosts from the past. You knew it wouldn't be easy, both of you had a lot to let go of but with her by your side everything felt a bit easier, and for the first time in a long time, you felt hopeful.

•••

i absolutely loved this request, thank you anon! i'm a sucker for angst

also i'm 100% sure she's still alive

[heathermason6060]

Serial Killer!Daryl Dixon x f!Reader Smut: Teeth and Pearl earrings

Warnings: serial killer daryl, rough smut, inconsiderate smut, NO noncon, stalking, stealing, mentions of killing

Summary: Daryl can't decide if he wants to kill you, or fuck you. Switches between Daryl's and Readers POV.

Notes: SO SORRY ITS LONG This was really fun but really challenging to write, I tried to keep him as in character as possible, but that's hard when making him a serial killer lol! I'm making this a two pt, with the reader finding out in the next part.

Some days Daryl thought his luck might run out. He'd been lucky for too long. As far as he knew, no one suspected a thing. Every time he'd go out “hunting”, no matter how long he was gone for, he'd always managed to bring back something. Deer, rabbits, squirrels when prey was scarce. 

It was easier now that the world had ended to keep it a secret. No threat of cops catching on, no more cameras on every street corner, no need to try to erase every possible trace.

The only thing he found to prove difficult had been finding a place to keep his trophies. He didn't really have a preference, hair, a tooth, or a piece of clothing, it was something he didn't understand the meaning of but something he did each time. He kept it in his room in the vent above his bed, behind a few boxes of books. The week prior he took it down to put the wedding ring of a man who tried attacking Rick out on their supply run, he’d had to restrain himself and keep the stabbing to a minimum because of Rick's presence. 

He found himself growing uncomfortably interested in you. A revelation that he really, really didn't like. You were off limits, you were one of Rick's closest friends, you'd been there way too long. And you clearly hadn't done anything deserving of the things he daydreamed about doing to you, unlike the victims he’d killed before.

The more he tried to push those thoughts away, the stronger they came back. His hands around your throat, the way your eyes would tear up as you struggled against him and the fact someone you trusted so much was the one ending your life. 

His eyes followed you over the flames of the campfire as you took your plates and went inside. Aaron had hosted a little get together in his yard in Alexandria, cooking dinner for everyone in celebration of the newest addition to the town. Some nobody he found out there on their own, who jumped at the idea of joining a large group of people. 

If Daryl had to kill you, he’d keep a lock of your hair. 

He couldn't stop staring at it as you went inside. His mind flooded with flashes of pictures of it, his hand in it, stroking your soft locks before grabbing a fistful and putting a knife to your throat. The way you'd squeal and beg, squirm against him as he presses the edge firmer into your skin. 

He bit the inside of his cheek and looked away after you disappeared in the house you shared with Maggie and a few others. 

It was like you were practically begging him to follow you. 

Five different times that week you'd gone out on your own to ‘clear your head’, whatever the hell that meant. 

First time he heard Glenn mention to someone that you'd just gone out beyond the walls, he wanted to follow you. The idea was far too tempting. But he didn't, he knew damn well he couldn't trust himself with you all alone, no one to hear you scream. 

The fantasies he had begun to form disgusted him. He didn't just go out and kill any random human he felt like, he had to have some sort of rules or else things would get out of hand real fast. If he were to get caught, it needed to be someone Rick wouldn't think twice about him killing. Some raider, or any kind of piece of shit who'd be a threat to their group. He needed to have a fallback, worst case scenario one of Alexandria caught him. 

Second rule, none of his people. Ever. His morals were questionable, if he had it his way he'd go out and hunt down any human he came across outside those walls.

But never his people. In a hypocritical way he did care about them, in the same way that any normal sane human being would care about their family. He could never even dream about hurting any of them, he’d rather die. But they had to earn that place in his heart. 

It was a wonder you hadn't been killed by anyone else yet. The way you walked through the woods with your light pink sweater, leaving tracks in the leaves that a blind man could follow, and that fucking humming. He could easily track you with his eyes closed for miles with the way you kept humming. 

You'd gone into an old shack in the backyard of an abandoned trailer.

A part of him felt angry then, how were you so stupid? If it had been someone else following you, and not Daryl, who knows what they'd do to you? And you'd have no idea until it was too late. 

He paused at the thought. If he wasn't careful, that's exactly what would happen. 

He followed you home about half a mile behind the entire time. When you were at the road that led to the gates he turned back, deciding it was the perfect time to go hunting. 

The crossbow on his back weighed heavier than it normally did as he slunk down into the underbrush at the forest's edge. He hadn't decided on what animal yet, but the frustration and confusion alone caused by you made it pretty easy to guess. 

He wiped the blood from the molar before he tucked it in the box in his vent, and decided to pay Maggie and Glenn a visit.

The house was completely empty, so he let his curiosity get the better of him.

Your room was pretty. 

Your bed, a whopping full size mattress, made his pull out look like a military cot. You had an array of paintings on your walls, he remembered some of them. As soon as you got your own room in Alexandria you went out on runs with Glenn and Maggie just so you could decorate it. 

His eyes went from painting to painting, then to your dresser. You kept it unexpectedly neat for someone who behaved so sloppily in the woods. Your journal, a small glass box you kept your sentimental jewelry in, a few makeup products. What drew his attention was the jewelry box, he could see the pair of pearl earrings you used to constantly wear. You never took them out back then, not even to sleep. 

Orange bled into a dark purple against his face and he blinked, coming back to himself in front of your bedroom window. A strange confusion twisted in his gut when he realized he'd just been standing there, staring out your window for so long the sun had set.

You weren't stupid, or blind. 

You'd have to be a fool to not notice the way Daryl had been taking interest in you. 

There'd been several times in Alexandria where you'd be busy doing something, turn around and see him standing off in the distance, staring at you like fuckin’ Michael Myers. 

If you'd go on runs and he came with you, you'd often glance at him to see him already looking. He'd always look away, pull out a cigarette and act like he wasn't just burning holes in the back of your head. 

You'd come to the obvious conclusion that he had a crush on you. 

What else could it be? You'd always thought he was really hot, men like that were hard to come by. Quiet, observant, strong as hell, he’d do anything for the people he loved and he wasn't an annoying pervert who'd suddenly turn into an asshole if you rejected him. Not that you'd ever reject him. 

Each time you caught him staring your heart would race and you'd try to give a friendly smile, but apparently he was too shy for that. Which sucked, because of all the men you could have the hots for, Daryl was the most unapproachable and intimidating. 

“Hey, have you guys seen an earring laying around anywhere?” You asked at dinner, glancing around the table. Carol had invited the inner group over for dinner, she'd made pasta and cookies. 

You could never get enough of Carol's cookies. 

“What's it look like?” Maggie asked beside Glenn, the two of them looking at you thoughtfully from across the table. 

“Just a pearl earring. The one's I always used to wear.” You took a sip of your sweet tea, looking at the other faces to see if any of them had a split second look of recognition. 

“Not that I can remember.” Glenn cleared his throat and shook his head after swallowing a heavy mouthful of alfredo pasta. 

“I'll keep an eye out for it.” Rick tipped his head to you, nodding slightly before continuing eating. You smiled in return, knowing if anyone was likely to find it, it’d be him. 

He'd grown very fond of you recently, the image of you had shifted in his head from another person he was responsible for, to a dear friend he could trust with his life. Mostly due to the way you were with Carl, always doing your best to be a figure of comfort to him. Not as close as he'd grown to Michonne, but more of a young aunt who takes too much interest in art and jewelry.

“I haven't seen you wear those in a while.” Carl spoke up. 

You sighed when no one had any leads. “Yeah, I know. Just been worried about losing them, they're pretty important.” You took the last bite of your cookie, dusting your hands together before speaking again. “It's really weird, they were both in my jewelry box last time I checked, but this morning there was only one.” 

“You think someone stole one?” Carol's voice held a tight tone of suspicion, her eyes narrowing so slightly you could've missed it if you blinked. 

“No, I mean, no one goes in our house besides you all. And I know none of you care about a single earring.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek in deep thought. 

You felt that familiar sensation of warmth on your cheek, like someone had a hot iron near you. 

You turned your head to your left, met with Daryl's eyes from his spot at the end of the other side of the table. 

To your surprise he didn't look away like he usually did. He kept his gaze steady, his elbows propped on the table and his hands clasped together in front of his mouth. 

You didn't feel butterflies like usual, and your cheeks burned for a different reason. For the first time you were the one to look away. 

Rick had put together a group to scout out further into town for more resources. The usual suspects, Aaron, Sasha, Rosita, Abraham, Daryl and of course, you.

He hadn't made up his mind on if he was glad or not. He'd been stupid, feeding the sparks of his mild obsession, and that pretty little pearl earring he kept in his jeans pocket felt like twenty pounds of red-hot metal.

They'd set up camp for the night in the woods right on the outskirts of town. Abraham had set up mediocre sound traps around the small clearing, and Daryl couldn't help but snort when you walked right into one and the cans failed to clash together. 

Fire was a dumb idea too. 

Daryl had started to remember why he preferred being alone. Aaron was too used to the safety of the Alexandria walls. 

Abraham told him he'd better put it out after dark, also throwing in a passive aggressive insult, and Aaron stuttered out an agreement. 

It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes off you. He sat across the fire from you, watching you smile and laugh and joke with Rosita like you were two young girls in summer camp.

As the flames of his fixation on you grew, so did his confliction. 

He had no problems with you. He'd barely even paid attention to you before you'd arrived at Alexandria, you were just another background character in his story that wouldn't make a difference if you died or not. But you'd grown close to Rick and Maggie, two people he cared about. So by extension, he cared about you too. 

He wasn't sure when it started. It kind of just happened over time.

He was always an outside observer, keeping details of each person he knew on a list in his mind. 

But you, he couldn't think of any reason you'd be so special. It was obvious you were smoking hot, he wasn't blind. But he'd seen his share of beautiful women. Maybe it was the fact you seemed to always have luck on your side, you could go out singing in the woods and never run into any trouble. 

If the two of you weren't careful, that luck might change tonight. 

Abraham and Aaron were busy looking at a map of the town and figuring out what pathing they'd take in the morning. Sasha and Rosita were sitting on their bedrolls cleaning their guns and talking about meaningless things, he didn't care enough to listen. 

You were the odd man out. Just like him. 

Sitting in the dirt on the other side of the fire, fidgeting with a stick in front of you while you thought. 

He could tell you knew he was staring at you again. And judging by the way you were forcing yourself to keep your eyes on the stick you were drawing circles in the dirt with, you were trying your best not to look up. 

He didn't expect you to look up. He almost let the confusion show on his face, caught off guard by his incorrect prediction. He saw the way your cheeks flushed even though the light of the fire made your face glow orange. He flared his nostrils at the sight, why'd you have to make it so damn hard?

His heart dropped when you suddenly stood and walked off into the woods. 

No one had even noticed, too wrapped up in their conversations. Another thing that succeeded in his self restraint slipping away. 

Daryl followed after counting three minutes in his head. He'd really hoped you'd come back before then, praying you'd be lucky enough to slip back through the trees before he got to his feet. 

It was dark in the woods away from the campfire. 

He could hear you a few yards ahead, your boots crunching lightly on leaves despite your attempts at being quiet. 

He kept his distance, just following the sounds of your footsteps and the slight silhouette of your body, the moonlight seeping through the treetops barely grazing your hair and shoulders. 

This was way too natural to him. 

Now out here you were just like any other victim, but it brought him comfort knowing there'd be no way he could hurt you and get away with it. The two of you disappear off into the woods at night and only Daryl comes back? He might think the people around the fire made stupid decisions sometimes, but they weren't stupid enough to not be suspicious of him. 

Maybe he could say walkers got you. 

He clenched his jaw when he realized he was at such a desperate point that an idea that stupid even crossed his mind. 

“Daryl?”

The sound of your sweet voice made him physically recoil, his hand falling from the knife in his belt that he didn't realize he'd been gripping. 

He could barely make out your figure in front of him. You were facing him, maybe six feet away, standing underneath a large pine tree. 

There was no use in hiding. Your eyes would've adjusted enough by now to see the shape of him. 

Finally, he answered, his voice coming out in more of a growl than a human speaking. “Shouldn't be out here alone.” 

There was silence before you filled it with the crunching of your footsteps moving towards him. 

His body tensed as you drew closer, now able to make out the pretty features of your face. An image of you flashed in his head, blood running down your nose and lips, tears in your eyes, your fingernails raking down his wrist. 

“I just needed a minute to clear my head.” You said it like it was the most natural thing in the world, like you weren't out in the dead of night stomping around loud enough for any walkers within a five mile radius to hear. 

Daryl said nothing, his eyes fixed on your face as you slowly crept near. Although he hated not being able to read your expressions, he was thankful for it, because he was hanging on by a thread and if you even showed the slightest hint of fear, he'd snap. He wouldn't be able to resist if your lips trembled, or if your eyes widened and you stuttered a single apprehensive syllable. 

But as his eyes adjusted even further, his mouth ran dry and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He felt like he'd been slapped in the face. That would've been less of a stun than the look you were giving him, standing only a few inches away from him. 

Your plan had worked. You'd been plotting it ever since Rick paired you up in that group, the silent attention Daryl had been giving you ended up driving you mad. You found it absurd that all it took was a few stares to make you feel like he was some A list celebrity giving you special treatment.

Maybe it was a little stupid the way you went about it, but the curiosity eating you up inside didn't have you thinking straight. Walking off into the woods was one thing, but at night? In woods so thick you could barely see your hand outstretched in front of you? Blindly trekking through the leaves in the mere hope that he'd follow you and make a move? 

You hadn't had sex in way too long. 

Yeah, that was it.

That's why you were making the decisions of a dumb bitch in a horror movie. But at least it was Daryl you were after, you knew you'd be fine if you ran into trouble. 

You thought you'd be fine.

Emboldened by the darkness and privacy you'd secured for yourself, you approached him. Your heart hammered against your chest, and you had to bite your lip to keep from panicking, the fear of rejection or a humiliating scolding almost made you change your mind. 

Your eyes strained in the dark to make out the features of his face. 

He looked almost expressionless, but there was something in his eyes, something that had your steady breathing turning into shuddering breaths coming from your mouth. His gaze looked like a textbook example of ‘dark’. Your heart felt like it was literally about to explode, and when you saw his upper lip barely twitch, you let out an accidental sigh, too exhilarated to feel embarrassed with yourself. 

He was right in front of you then. You'd crossed every single inch of ground that separated you, and you could smell his signature scent of cigarettes, smoke, those spicy little mint leaves he'd chew on for his oral fixation. There was a hint of male musk as well, just barely there after a day walking outside in the woods. 

You could see his chest rising and falling more dramatically now. 

He was still dead silent, his eyes never leaving yours, even as you looked over every inch of him. You'd been biting your lip so hard it started to ache, and so you released it, your mouth opening to speak, you yourself unaware of what you planned to say.

The sound of Abraham’s whistle signal breaking through the thick silence had you feeling like you fell out of a plane. You sucked in a gasp and pulled your hand back from where it hung inches away from Daryl's chest. 

Daryl's posture snapped into something so different it gave you whiplash. He was Daryl Dixon again, the sight so drastic you couldn't help but feel unnerved. 

He whistled back before looking at you once more. It was still too dark to tell if he looked relieved or disappointed. “C'mon.” 

Keeping his distance from people had never been a problem for Daryl. But what you did that night had permanently altered something inside him. 

He didn't know if he wanted to fuck you or kill you. Maybe both. 

You became his new favorite pastime. 

When everyone fell asleep that night, he sat with his back against the same tree he'd been sitting under for hours, his eyes keeping their unwavering stance on your sleeping form. All the while he imagined hundreds of different things to do to you. 

His mind kept going between strangling the life out of you, watching it bleed from your eyes. Or the other one, the image where he was burying his face between your legs with his tongue and teeth sucking and nipping, licking till it became too much and you begged him to stop.

He carefully planned out his next encounter with you over the course of days. He acted it out the night of a “party” at Aaron and Eric’s house, so focused on his plan he didn't even know what they were having a party for.

Daryl didn't care if you caught him staring anymore. That night in the woods he could practically smell how bad you wanted it, it didn't matter to him anymore if he disregarded all basic manners.

The last time there was a party in Alexandria was when Rick's group joined. Daryl hadn't gone to that one, the feeling of being an outdoor cat watching indoor cats eating their fancy wet food too much for him. 

But he'd do anything to continue this little game with you. It was new, and there were no rules. 

For the most part he was his usual self, sticking to the side and keeping enough casual conversation to blend in. The perfect balance between himself, and the part of him that imagined in great detail all the sounds you'd make. 

He took a sip of the beer Aaron forced in his hands, his eyes looking back to you. 

You looked like a fresh cut of meat just waiting for him to sink his teeth into. 

The dress you wore hugged every single piece of your body, fitting you in a way that was almost poetic, but it was modest enough that it didn't draw unwanted attention. You were beside Rick most of the night, happily chatting and drinking champagne in a way that oozed confidence. 

Every now and then you'd look at him, and he'd savor all the details of the way your confidence faded into something he didn't have a word for. You looked nervous, but hungry, like someone reaching out a hesitant hand to stroke the pelt of a tamed predator. 

Daryl wanted to bite that hand, hold it in his harsh jaws while your other one stroked his fur. 

You played your part well, after most of the formal greetings and casual conversation had been taken care of you slipped out the back door. 

He counted three minutes in his head before making his exit, which was stopped by Carol.

“Leaving already, huh?” She gave him a knowing smirk, unaware that her assumption he was just bored was incorrect. He'd never been more entertained. 

“Yeah, shit ain't for me anyway.” He played along with a nonchalant shrug, pulling a lone cigarette from his shirt pocket. “Done enough already just by comin’.” 

Carol nodded, that smirk still on her face as she looked at the people standing around making friendly conversation. “Don't get into any trouble. Don't wanna help you hide bodies again.”

Daryl snorted, the cigarette bobbing between his lips. If there was anyone he'd come to for help hiding bodies it definitely would've been her. “Yeah yeah. Night Carol.” He gave her a pat on her shoulder before turning sideways to fit through the cracked door. 

He hadn't expected you to be so good at this. He'd been prepared to walk down the steps of the porch and see you standing down the sidewalk, waiting for him like he was your prom date. 

You weren't too good, though. He found you rather easily. The bottom of your heels left slight little indents in the dirt, leading between the houses, down the street, and right up to the sidewalk in front of your house. 

His heart rate sped up a little when he remembered that house was completely empty, all but you.

Or so he thought.

You weren't anywhere to be seen. He checked every room, growing increasingly irritated when each one turned up nothing. He was about to give up and just head home when he checked your room one last time. 

Something caught his eye, a blade of grass, his eyes followed the bits of grass to see those black heels sitting under your dresser, taking the place of your boots.

You tried to keep from anxiously picking at your fingernails as you stood behind the thick underbrush at the woodline, watching for any sign of movement along the outside walls. 

There was a spot at the back wall near a platform no one really watched anymore, which is where the both of you had gone to leave without being seen. 

You were beginning to think maybe you'd read him wrong. Your heart skipped a beat as you remembered that look he gave you at the party, it was impossible to describe. He was lacking any sort of expression, but in his eyes held this darkness that made swallowing your champagne hard when you'd seen it. The way he leaned against the wall near a group of people, his eyes steady and fixed on you, you could only decipher that as a look of craving for something he'd been wanting for a long time.

If you hadn't been looking at the Alexandrian walls, you would've missed it. For a split second you saw a flash of dark clothing, even darker hair, and you darted from your position behind the thickets.

Thankfully it wasn't as dark as that one night. 

The sun had dipped down below the trees and out of sight, but it left just enough light for the sky to be a dark blue. The full moon made it even brighter, and soon you were in one of the houses right outside Alexandria. 

You stood in the living room and waited. You'd already checked the house for walkers before this, not keen on the idea of a growling monstrosity of green and purple flesh ruining whatever might happen there when Daryl arrived. 

If he arrived. 

You were beginning to think maybe he wasn't coming. The heavy front door was open just a few inches, you'd wanted to be able to see him approach the house, to take him by surprise, maybe giving him the same fright he'd given you countless times.

Suddenly, the air grew heavy. You felt that feeling again, like you were in danger, the feeling you might get being stalked by a large cat. 

There was a breeze behind you, and you recognized it as a draft from the back window being opened. 

Although it was happening behind you, your mind raced as you played out the scene. His hands bracing against the walls on either side of the window, his first leg dipping over like a spider emerging from its tunnel. 

The tap of a boot meeting the wood floor under the window, so light and careful you almost didn't hear it. A second foot, he was in the house, only across the room from you. You held your breath as the footsteps drew near, slow, deliberate, you could tell just by the timing of his steps he was approaching you like a leopard closing in on a wounded deer. Confident, patient, nearly sadistic.

The feeling of his breath on your bare shoulder sent chills through your body and goosebumps down your arms. It was cold and barely there, you felt like if you turned around you'd be met with an empty house.

His fingers were just as light as his breath, tracing the thin dress strap over your shoulder, down and to the middle of your spine. 

Never in your wildest dreams did you think Daryl could be this confident in this way. He acted like every antagonist in a romance novel, dark and self-assured with every move he made. 

You felt yourself relaxing as you leaned your back against his chest, feeling the leather of his vest on your skin, as well as the buttons on his black shirt. 

The feeling of his hand snaking over your shoulder and up to your neck succeeded in sending every last drop of blood in your body down between your legs. You were fully prepared for the best slow, deep, mind-blowing sex of your life, but that quickly changed when his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

It wasn't a firm and sexy squeeze, it was a ‘wait that's actually way too tight’ squeeze. 

Your eyes shot back open but you tried to keep your cool, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab at his wrist.

Apparently, Daryl didn't like that. 

He suddenly had your back pressed against the wall of the living room with movements so quick and precise it made your head spin. You looked up at his face, lit with a dim blue light from the windows, searching for any signs that would be cause for panic. 

He decided to give you that reason you were looking for, and wrapped his hand around your neck again.

For once, Daryl wasn't fighting some internal battle on if he should kill you or not. 

He'd made the decision as soon as he crept in the window and saw you standing in the living room, facing the front door and biting at your nails. 

That decision wasn't final, though, you had the power in your hands to change his mind. 

Hopefully you'd be as lucky as you always were. 

He looked down at your face as he kept his one handed grip on your throat, burning the image in his mind. Your eyes were wide and full of this otherworldly beautiful fear, so much uncertainty it made his already hard cock twitch. 

Your hands were still on his wrist, as if it gave you some sort of control, something he found endearing. You still trusted him, you still thought you had a chance to regain the control you thought you had this whole time.

“This what you wanted?” He breathed, looking from your eyes to your lips. Your face had turned a shade darker from his grip, your lips turning a pretty hue of red. “Wanted me to hunt you down, and then what? Huh?”

He watched for your reaction, waiting to see how you'd play the hand you'd been dealt, and to his pleasant surprise you managed to nod. 

Daryl's hand loosened just enough to send the blood back to your head and you sucked in a deep breath, before letting out a trembling whimper. 

His lips twitched into a soft smirk, and he dipped his head down to press his lips against yours. You kissed him hungrily, swallowing the growl from his throat as your bare knee pressed against the aching bulge in his jeans. You moved it in firm circles, and he decided that earned a returned gesture.

He used his knee to roughly spread your thighs before giving you the same treatment. The whine that drew from your lips, and the way your eyes rolled back in your head, had him letting out a deep groan. He ground his knee up between your legs, long enough to feel the wetness seeping from your panties and through his jeans. 

You didn't get a chance to tell him about the bed you'd cleaned upstairs for this. Which was unfortunate, given you'd gone out of your way to do so, not that he would've cared anyway. 

He grabbed your shoulder and spun you around, fingers finding the zipper of your dress and unceremoniously pulling it down to your ass. Your heavy breathing fueled his desire and he grabbed a fistful of your hair before yanking your dress down with his other hand so fast it burned. 

With the grip he had in your hair he forcefully guided you onto the floor, releasing you only to settle between your thighs and slide his hands up your bare chest to his favorite part of you. 

You got that look on your face again. Lust blown pupils, breathing softly through your mouth. You still hadn't figured it out yet, that you could very easily be in danger. 

This time he used both hands. 

A yelp got choked from your throat as he squeezed, allowing himself a few seconds to please himself. The white of your eyes turned a light pink at the edges, a few beads of tears forming there as well, the sight making his dick throb. 

He released your neck and you gasped, sucking down lungfuls of air as your head spun. You felt like you were on a carousel the way you got so dizzy. 

While you regained your bearings he unbuckled his belt and took out his dick, his right hand wasting no time in giving himself relief. You took the opportunity to slide off your panties, and when he saw the glistening of your wet folds in the deep blue lighting he growled. The sinful sound earned a whimper from you, and he refocused on your face to see a pitiful look of impatience.

Daryl switched to stroking himself with his left hand, and guided the tip up through your slick folds. He savored the way you looked then, biting your bottom lip as you prepared yourself. 

Instead of giving the satisfaction he pulled his tip back and carried on fucking his hand. As soon as your eyes opened and you went to protest, his free hand went right back to your neck.

He loved the way you looked then, desperate and pathetic, so full of frustration it leaked out through tears in your eyes. He squeezed hard, completely cutting off blood and air to your brain, tugging his dick faster as you squirmed.

Daryl lifted up his knee to pin one of your thighs to the floor in an effort to keep you still. He took his hand away from his cock and spit in his palm, wasting no time in getting back to touching himself. 

He could've easily come right there. If he wanted to, he could keep squeezing just a few more moments, and your squirming would've stopped. He could spill his load on your stomach and effortlessly slip into his cleanup routine, but aside from the fact that part of him didn't really want to kill you, the way you orgasmed had him fucking frozen.

He hadn't even touched you, but you came. 

Your eyebrows scrunched together and the leg he didn't have pinned down wrapped around his waist, your hips rolling in a desperate attempt to get friction against your clit. He relaxed his hand from your throat and you let out this bubbly whimpering sound that made his hips instinctively jerk forward. 

Daryl watched you, holding his breath without realizing it. She just came from you chokin’ her. The words repeated over and over in his mind as you rode out the last waves of your orgasm. 

He had to snatch his hand away from his dick to keep his own orgasm at bay. Not yet, not a chance in hell, not after you just did that. You deserved something for showing him the hottest thing he never would've thought possible.

His body went on autopilot. He slid down from your body, planting kisses in a trail from your neck to your naval, down to your thighs, then back up again. He buried his face between your legs, not giving you a moment's notice or time to recover. He swirled his tongue around your clit, grazing his teeth against it before sucking it between his lips.

You bucked against him like a wild horse, the stimulation so much your body didn't know how to react. It was desperate, finally getting some stimulation, but you'd just had a world shattering orgasm only seconds before. He wrapped his arms under your thighs and pulled you down against his mouth again, his grip tight to keep you from squirming away again. 

The only control you had was your ability to choose what to do with your hands. Your fingers wrapped around clumps of his hair, winding up so tight it made his scalp burn. 

He growled in response and took your clit between his teeth, holding it there as a stern warning, only letting it go when you stopped pulling so damn hard.

If he had the power to freeze time for everything but the two of you, he would've eaten your pussy for hours. But he settled on just long enough to pull another orgasm from you, sliding the tip of his tongue from your throbbing clit to the new trail of slick cum dripping out of you. 

Daryl didn't give you time to recover from that one either. As soon as your cry faded out he flipped you on your back, ignoring the yelp of protest you made when your hip bones dug into the hard floor beneath you. 

The only warning he gave you before shoving his cock into you was a quick slide of his swollen tip between your puffy folds. Just right enough to lubricate the head, and then he drove it in.

The way you groaned in pain from the stretch almost made him cum right there. He stilled inside you, not for you to adjust but for him to fall back away from the edge. The benefit to you was just lucky. 

“Fuck.” It was the first time in a while that he'd spoken, and it was solely due to the way your hot plush walls squeezed his dick like a fist. 

He should've known you'd feel like that, he hadn't seen you with a man the entire time he'd known you. His chest shuddered with his ragged breaths, and once he was ready he put both hands flat on your upper back. He put his weight there, keeping him upright so he could lift his hips and fuck his dick into you with all his weight.

Your arms slid out in front of you, your hands grasping for something, anything, you needed something to hold onto.

He wouldn't grant you that kindness either. He rested his knees back on the floor on either side of your thighs and grabbed your arms, bending them painfully behind you. When he held your wrists together at the base of your spine he started fucking you again. 

Each rough snap of his hips drove a whiney moan from you. He liked that a lot, it sounded similar to a different type of crying, and he slowed down to keep his dick from getting friction burns. While you used the opportunity to squirm under him in an attempt to get more comfortable he spit on his fingers, letting it drip onto the base of his cock before changing positions once again.

He moved your arms up over your head and laid down on top of you, the weight of him pressing down on your back pushing all the air from your lungs. 

Your check rubbed against the floor as he started thrusting again, this time settling on a new pace, rough and fast despite the fact he barely drew his dick out. If he wasnt fucking you so roughly, the feeling of his head resting against yours would’ve given you butterflies. You became acutely aware of the closeness, there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies, and every grunt and groan he made had his lips brushing up against the side of your ear.

He used his hips to grind his dick inside you, the new motion drawing filthy gasps and whines from you from the way his tip seemed to roll and dig into each and every crevice inside you. You'd never felt anything like that before, so used to the normal thrusting. He only pulled back about an inch, rolling his hips in a way that had you shamelessly moaning. 

Daryl moved your hair from the back of your neck, pushing it up and away before leaning down to dig his teeth into the skin right at the base of your neck. He bit hard, something you didn't expect, and you cried out in pain, your body jerking under him. 

It was hard for you to breathe with his full weight on your back. The heat of his body gave you uncomfortable hot flashes, adding to the sweat you'd already made. Your hair stuck to your forehead and you made an attempt to push it off, which was made difficult when he changed paces once again.

He started drawing out further now, but he'd just drive back in harder, faster, causing your body to grind roughly against the wood floor. The skin over your hip bones started to burn as well as your nipples, something you found almost agonizing but shamefully pleasurable at the same time. 

He fucked you like that until you came for the third time, now around his dick. He pushed himself off your back and used his hands on your shoulders to keep you pinned down, watching as he breathed through his mouth at the way his cock disappeared inside you. 

You were lucky he felt like a new position. 

He waited until you stopped writhing under him from your orgasm before grabbing your thigh to turn you on your back. 

Relief washed over you as the pain in your hip bones faded, only to have that relief taken from you when he grabbed your waist and yanked you up and off the floor. 

Your feet didn't even touch the ground, your body swaying as you tried to get a sense of gravity, Daryl's hands tight on your sides as he took you to the couch. 

All you could do at that point was relax and let him move your body for you, your hands shaking against your chest as he sat you on the arm of the couch. You let him push you down on your back, your ass and legs dangling over the arm for a few dizzying seconds before he grabbed your legs and held them around his waist. 

Daryl pushed his dick back in your abused pussy and groaned, gripping your thighs tighter so he could pull you closer to him.

Your back arched almost uncomfortably, your hips angled up against his pelvis, the only part of your back that touched the cushions of the couch ended up being your shoulders. You were thankful you could at least breathe now. 

Daryl was skilled at taking small bits of relief like that away. 

He leaned down and bit your already sore nipple so hard and so suddenly you nearly shouted. Your hands instinctively went to grab his hair for support, but he leaned back and your fingers fell from his face. 

He was proud of the new angle. Your pelvis tilted up and him fucking down into you sent him as deep as possible, and soon he began fucking you rough enough that it bordered closely on too painful. 

Lucky for you, you liked it. Your walls burned pleasurably from the dragging of his dick, and he started speaking again. 

“Look at you, dirty little whore.” He teased as he looked down at your abused body with a grin. Your nipples and hips were red from him fucking you into the floor, your neck equally as red from the force of his hands. 

Your sweet, sweet pretty face, twisted up in a mix of pleasure and pain, your cheeks red, your lips swollen, streaks of black makeup running down your face. The sight made him seriously consider picking up drawing, because that look was, without a doubt, the best thing he'd seen in his entire life. 

“Daryl,” You finally plucked the courage to speak to him and he raised a brow, impressed, he'd gotten used to you taking it so well without any complaints. “Too much.” Your voice broke as you whined, another orgasm bringing you to shambles. 

He snorted as he watched you come around his dick yet again, your words asking for mercy but your body clearly asking him otherwise. 

“You can take a little more, yeah?” Even he was becoming spent, his heart banging in his chest so hard he could hear the blood in his ears. He slid his hands down your sweaty chest to your breasts, his dick twitching inside you at the way you cried when he pinched that same sore nipple. 

“I don't know,” Another wave of shivers overcame you, eliciting exhausted, long and shaky whines. Your body couldn't process going a little under two years with little to no sexual activity, and then suddenly being mind numbingly overstimulated with the most exhilarating sex you'd ever had in your life. Each time you thought you'd gotten used to it he'd pull the rug out from under you, either by causing pain or giving you more pleasure that you knew what to do with. 

As if on cue you felt his flattened hand smack the side of your face, demanding your focus. Your eyes struggled to find him, your vision fuzzy and wobbly, but when you looked up and saw him your heart fluttered. 

“Look at me. C'mon.” He didn't want you passing out on him, that took all the fun away. 

Despite the obvious fact he had a clear disregard for your comfort or discomfort, the way he was looking down at you sent butterflies through your stomach and chest. His pupils were so blown with lust that you couldn't see the pretty color of his eyes, and his eyelids were heavy with the approach of his orgasm. His lips, glistening from the way his tongue had darted out to wet them, parted as he huffed in ragged breaths. 

You could tell if he had a picture of you like this, he'd be reacting the same way with just his hand. The thought had a moan bubbling past your lips. 

“C'mon.” His hips snapped forward roughly, jerking in a break from his steady aggressive rhythm. You cried out from that, your hands finding the sides of his dangling belt to grab onto like the reins of a horse.

He'd held back his orgasm as long as he could, but the sight of you shaking and trembling under him, exhausted and overstimulated, he couldn't last much longer. Your face twisted in discomfort as he fucked you faster again, your hips suddenly doing their best to wiggle up and away from the frenzy of his dick. 

You'd managed to get a few short moments of relief, sliding backwards until his dick nearly slid out.

His upper lip curled in disbelief, and he shook his head, scoffing at you. “Don't be a baby, you can take it.” You were yanked back down on his dick, the sensation of being forced back into overstimulation had you moaning in distress. 

You nodded your head feverishly, setting your jaw as you looked up at the ceiling, trying your best to keep it together. But each time his hips would ram into yours it made his crotch slam against your clit, and it got too much, your breathing sped up as the panic of overstimulation set in. You really tried then, actually tried to wiggle away, and to your surprise, and much needed relief, he stilled his hips. 

You were expecting him to maybe find a better way to restrain you, or put you in a position you couldn't move from, but he just used the moment to catch his breath before his demeanor changed completely.

“Hey, hey, shh.” The sweetness in his tone made you whimper, your eyes falling closed as he comforted you. It felt so fucking good, you found yourself willing to do anything and everything to feel that tenderness some more. “Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” He cooed as your breathing slowed and your fingers stopped shaking.

Daryl released your thighs and with unexpected ease, he slipped his hands under the arch in your back, picking you up and moving so he could sit down on the couch, keeping you stuck on his cock the entire time. 

The new position of being on top sent a fresh wave of pleasure flipping in the bottom of your stomach, the tip of his dick pressed right at the end of your walls.

It wasn't painful like you'd felt before when your cervix was accidentally hit too hard, quite the opposite, the feeling of pressure was so strangely good you found yourself pushing down with all your weight, desperate to feel more. 

Daryl tossed his head back with a grunt at the feeling, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting it. His hands took their place on your hips, his fingers digging deep into the soft skin there. 

He'd only switched to this position because his legs were getting unsteady, but the way you looked above him was something he didn't expect to enjoy as much as he did. 

He took a second to catch his breath before he planted his boots firmly on the floor, pressing his back against the couch, and when he was perfectly leveraged he used his hands to keep your waist hovering above him, using the angle to fuck his dick up into you so hard you immediately came again. 

The way you came for the fourth time made his jaw drop. 

He watched you through heavy lidded eyes, taking in every second of it as he breathed through his open mouth. The way your face tensed up in twisted concentration, and then the way it dropped as you fell apart, your mouth falling open with a guttural moan that put every single goddamn porn video he'd seen to shame. Your eyebrows scrunched together, your mouth hung open in such a beautiful ‘O’, he broke. 

He let go of your waist so your full weight would slam down on his cock and he came, his head tilted back against the couch, his dark hair falling away from his face. 

You watched his face the same way he'd watched yours, rolling your hips down against him as you drew out every wave of the strongest orgasm you'd ever had. He looked fucking beautiful. You'd do everything in your power to get him like this again, but this time with your camera. 

His orgasm literally shook him. He clenched the skin over your hips in a tight grip, using it to keep you as tight as possible against him. In those few seconds his mind went blank, almost devolving him into an animal. Those instincts wanted to keep you there on top of him, so he did, rolling his pelvis to fuck his cum deeper into you. 

Daryl held you there until way after he came down from his high, only releasing his grip on your skin when he felt his dick grow soft. 

You couldn't move off him if you tried. Your legs felt like you'd lost all muscle mass, same with your arms. Your body slumped forward and you fell against his chest, your nipples burning as they rubbed against his shirt and vest. 

His arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing your body tight against his, his hips giving a few last weak rolls up against you. 

It took you both a while to catch your breath, the mouth breathing leaving the two of you uncomfortably thirsty. 

He made the first move when he realized you couldn't, and he slid your body off of his into the seat beside him. He sat there for a few more seconds before he carefully put his tender dick back in his pants. 

His belt buckle clinked noisily as he fastened it, his fingers shaky and inaccurate.  He watched as you slowly rose to your feet and grabbed your panties, the rising and falling of his chest gradually slowing. 

The sight of you struggling to climb into your dress had him feeling a smug sense of satisfaction. He chewed on the skin around his thumb, watching you slip your feet into your boots before you leaned against the wall next to the front door. 

You looked at it and faltered, realizing that the two of you had been pretty loud. When you looked back to him with a concerned expression you were just met with an uncaring smirk, the man now on his feet and wiping the sweat from his face with the top of his shirt. He grabbed his crossbow from the floor and flung it over his shoulder before leading you back home.

@ophelialaufey

[gremlingottoosilly]

The only thing you want to do is... [Price x fem!Reader]

Price broke his hand on the last mission. Fortunately for him, his caretaker is just as adorable as she is eager to help him in every way.

CW and tags: Legal age gap, power imbalance, daddy kink, pervert!Price, obsessive!Price, coercion into sex, handjob (m!receiving)

Word count: 3246

This work on AO3

You’re such a sunshine, it hurts. 

John Price never considered himself to be a good man. He did what he had to do to protect his country, to ensure that big bad terrorists are kept at bay, and foreign militaries are ending up where they belong – somewhere in the ditch, with reports stating KIA an anonymous bullet drugged out of their skulls. 

His job was just that – a job, something that had to be done because he knew that someone else, someone worse, would gladly take his place in case of retirement. The captain can be considered a fucking angel compared to some people he is working with – no one would ever dare call him evil when people like Graves still exist out there, hunting for innocents. 

But you’re so fucking sweet to him, he simply can’t handle it. 

When his arm got injured, and he was forced to get on leave for at least a month – he tried to argue for something less, but Lasswell silently pointed out that he hadn’t had a break in the past five years, and she would kick him out of his own Task Force if he’d continue to refuse – he got assigned a caretaker by Kate recommendation. 

John was fully expecting some old lady, probably a retired officer or field medic. Maybe some burly man with too much time on his hands and the ability to give really nice massages under flights of bullets. Perhaps, worst case scenario, he would be assigned an actual; nurse that wouldn’t buy any of his shit – that amount of whiskey he drinks is prescribed by his therapist, smoking cigars in the apartment is a nice form of relaxation, and he actually doesn’t need help and can go in service back again less than in two weeks. 

But, the Captain got wee ol’ you, all nice and warm, and adorable, and too fucking young to have anything to do with his apartment. 

You’re nice, warm, fresh out of college, where you got some recommendations about rehabilitating veterans back into normal lives. Probably was writing a Thesis about something as dumb as “Healing PTSD through flower crowns and little touches”. You chirp your way into his heart and refuse to go out – just like Kate promised to him, you really didn’t allow him to do anything on his own. 

God, it was infuriating – how much he wanted to simply grab your shoulders and kiss you. Or kick you out and find someone else to take care of him, someone boring, someone of appropriate age. Without dumb, bright eyes and cute smiles, without enthusiasm, that can only be seen in unpaid interns and college graduates who still believe that the world is fair and nice. 

You cook his dinners and clean up his apartment – as small as it is, never having a family or any other reason to make it even slightly bigger – and you do this with such a wide smile on your face it actually makes Price question basically everything he knows about young ladies doing charity work. You must be paid triple because you fold his underwear in neat little cubes and refuse to accept his help. Always chirped something about his hand like he can’t kill a man with his teeth only. 

— I can fold my own pants, love. 

He presses his body against the doorframe of the small bathroom – looks at your ass so shamelessly bent over the washing machine. You’re folding his dried clothes, and he can only pray that you aren’t slowly resenting him for being such a disgusting old man. He knew he looked good for his age, 37 years in this world molded him into something that many young women would consider hot – even though his beard is unkept and his hair grew a bit longer since he couldn’t be arsed to do anything about it, and his dominant hand is broken. 

— We don’t want to sprain your hand even more, right? — Everythin’ is alright with my bloody hand…

— Lady Lasswell said I shouldn’t listen to you like this, sir. Sorry. 

— Little minx. 

— Me or Lady Lasswell? 

John looks at you, so eager and cheerful, and he just wants to…he can’t, of course, he stops himself before he even forms the thought because it’s dirty and you don’t deserve this, and your shy smile as you laugh softly and push the last of the laundry in the neat pile on the washing machine. 

You look too eager to please, and he has an idea – the one he will never act upon. Maybe will entertain himself later, stroking himself in some abandoned base deep in the snowy tundra, trying to remember your warmth as if a sinner like him can even comprehend your light. 

God, you got him so bad, he starts thinking about good ol’ Jesus again. You really are a side to behold, aren’t ya. 

He looks at you again – you’re so easy to please. You cook for him, the smell of home cooking that he almost forgot, all the ingredients you invited yourself to buy when he left his card for you. You didn’t think it was weird, not a single mischievous bone in your body – if anything, he was casually prompting you to go and buy yourself something nice, something as compensation for all the trouble you endured for him. 

Instead, you went out of your way to cook for him, to make him tea like he wanted it – without sugar, but with a small amount of milk poured into a cup that is probably the most expensive thing in this whole place except for his weapons. 

The problem is – John Price doesn’t really like it when people are taking care of him. Not because he is shy or insecure, god forbid, but because he knows that if a pretty young thing like you is going to show him kindness, he will take a fucking mile and make you run from him as fast as you can. He has desires, he has needs, something that pretty good girls like you should know nothing about. 

You’re so eager to please that you’ll probably jerk him off if he were to whine about his arm being broken and his inability to get himself off because of it. Which, in turn, gives him an…idea. 

Price was never a good person – he isn’t the worst guy either. He sees your reactions, that adorable heat of your face when he brushes his knuckles over your cheek in an affectionate manner. How you are biting your lips every time you have to fold his underwear, when you cook for him, and he presses his body against yours, rocking his hips just gently enough to not make his arousal obvious. John knows you like him in more ways than just one – he doubts that such a lovegirl like you would ever agree to take care of a grumpy military man like him. 

He wonders where your father is – probably out of the picture if his precious daughter is almost crying from a desire to please a guy like him. He wonders if you have a boyfriend or if you’re seeing someone else – if you’re a virgin or you already had a series of disappointing sessions with blokes that have no idea how to behave with an angel like you. 

Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be taking care of a SAS captain – did your superiors forget to tell you just how girl-hungry men like him are? That he didn’t even bother to find a wife, and the loneliness of a single life will make him fucking explode if a girl as pretty as you were in the vicinity of that perverted old dog. You must be stupid – or so insanely naive, it’s not even funny. 

He licks his lips, staring at you again. He is certainly isn’t a good guy – not the worst either, but it’s up for debate. He wants to hold you close and say all of those pretty good things he knows you want to hear. He also wants to push you as close to him as possible and just fuck that pretty girl until you’re begging for him to make you his wife. He’d always laugh at the thought of other military commanders and higher rank soldiers having sugar babies – especially the mercs and their fucking inability to keep a girl who isn’t tied to their paychecks. But now…he might just pay for your adorable pout and eagerness. 

Might make a call to that one masked arsehole and ask how the hell he keeps his questionably young wife around without breaking her legs. Visibly, at least. 

— Sir? Planet calls for Captain Price. 

You giggle when you are waving your hand around him. Shit – looks like he zoned out for a hot minute, leaving you free to stare at his face, the fantom red spreading across his skin as if he is actually embarrassed to be caught like this. He isn’t, of course, he is stronger than some girl trying to get a rise out of him. He thinks he is stronger, at least. 

You wave your hand in front of his face again, and the insects are kicking in – captain grabs your hand, not even caring that his supposed helplessness stems from the fact his dominant hand is still broken. He has no problems keeping you in place with just his left hand – and you almost look scared when you understand that you literally can’t move. 

Your innocent smile turns into a pathetic whimper when he squeezes you even more. Bruises, no doubt, are starting to form already – well, it should be your fault. Good girls are usually smarter than teasing an old dog like him, even if you’re trying to play innocence. He knows what you are. 

His future special girl that is. A wife, if he plays his cards right…and the captain was always good at poker. 

— Shite, love. Sorry. 

His smile mirrors yours – an innocent display like he didn’t almost break your wrist in his hold. He is still squeezing your hand, but not he slowly presses his lips against your knuckles – thin, dry lips gently caressing your skin in a gesture that you should never accept from a guy who kills people as a job. Who saves people, too – but a good guy with a gun is barely an upgrade from a bad one. 

He kisses your fingers and finds heaven in the feeling of your soft skin against his lips. You are certainly embarrassed, and this is exactly what he wants – an old pervert trying to get in the pants of a cute girl who just wants to take care of him without any strings attached. He just has to make this whale thing complicated, isn’t he? 

— It’s okay, sir. Just thought I lost you for a second. 

— Not a chance. 

Your smile looks a tad bit mischievous – that is, or he is simply hallucinating from painkillers he is forced to drink every morning because you refuse to let him feel pain even though he is used to it. You are acting like he is a soft doll made out of pink ribbons and soft plushes, not a seasoned soldier with his own thoughts and ideas about what he can do about your desire to please him. He might just use your eagerness – his cock has been pitching for too long without female attention, and he usually doesn’t indulge in shitty one-night stands in some sketchy pubs, but he can make an exception for now. For you. 

You smile awkwardly, still trying to get your hand out of his grasp. Little minx, teasing him like he can’t just push you on this exact washing machine and fuck you like a slut you are. Poor girl, you probably don’t even know what kind of thoughts he has in his head – even though your eyes tell him something your lips cannot articulate. 

John acts on his instincts, and they usually don’t deceive him. 

— If you want to help so badly, I can think of another way. 

— Is that so, sir? You’re going to get him in so much shit with Lasswell, he doesn’t even know how he is going to get out of it after fucking her best little protege. Would have to marry you – like it’s not his end goal, like he doesn’t want to make your care for him a tad bit more permanent. He has done so many good things for humanity, why can’t he be a bit selfish and get himself a little something to make this place feel more like home? 

He thinks of a pretty thing like you, heavy with his kids, cooking something nice and hearty in his house – not this crappy apartment, of course, he’d buy you something in the countryside, away from terrorists and public squares, with good schools and greenery all around. 

You lick your lips and tilt your head to the side. He is daydreaming again. 

— If you want to make me relax so badly, love, there is something I need help with…

Beating around the bush like this isn’t in his character – but he knows that you’re a good girl, maybe way too good and proper. He can’t just shove his dick in your hand, it would be too unpolite. 

He has to prepare you, it’s a slow sniper mission where he needs to approach you as gently and quietly as possible – he still holds your hand in his, a phantom of his lips tucked away on the softness of your skin. 

Then he places his hand on his growing erection – as awkwardly as he can operate with only using his left arm as a helper. 

Price might not be the master of espionage, but he also didn’t get his rank for not being able to do cover missions under pressuring circumstances and lie in the faces of people who trust him. Not be the best person, of course, but he gives you a choice. You have all the power now – even with his weapons safely stashed in his bedroom, he knows he won’t ever try to force you. He won’t have to. 

— Help your captain, eh? 

You’re embarrassed, shy, scared even – your hands are trembling, fingers tracing the outline of his cock with morbid curiosity he never thought he’d find this adorable. You don’t stop and don’t try to fight him – like a little animal, nervous and terrified somewhat, you’re slowly indulging yourself in something that you actually shouldn’t. 

He lets go of your hand and allows you to continue on your own – like a good girl, you only nod and slowly duck your palm in his boxers. He’d say that the way he is rock-solid just from looking at your ass and pouting on your face is weak, but he can afford to be a bit pathetic after so many weeks without the ability to jerk off. With your watchful gaze, he just couldn’t find it in his heart – or the only remaining working hand – to do something to help with his raging crush on this adorable social worker who comes to help him. 

John is many things – a war hero, war criminal, the captain, and the butcher of many who may deem his actions irredeemable. He made peace with not being the poster good guy and often dirtying his hands just to keep the world clean – and he knows that, in the end, he deserves a pretty young thing to jerk him off while he kisses your hairline and whispers sweet nothing with that beautiful accent of his. 

— This is not very… appropriate, sir.

— Bullocks, love. You’re helpin’, that’s why you’re here. 

 You’re nervous when your hand, squeezing his shaft firmly, goes up and down on his cock. You’re trying to find the rhythm in his quiet grunts and little moans, not having too much experience with pleasuring men who you like this much. It’s fear of disappointing him that makes you go wild, that approving gaze of his every time you press your soft fingers against the head of his cock and squeeze a little. 

He is throbbing in your palm, pre-cum leaking on the small of your fingers – naturally, you lick it as slowly as possible, not breaking the eye contact. 

Price moans. 

— Bloody hell, luv…so good for daddy. 

The name makes your ears burn, the desire growing in your stomach – you fight the urge to drop on your knees and take him fully in your mouth. This isn’t what he wants, you think, so you just continue to squeeze him more, making sure he is satisfied with every little movement your hand makes. You lick your lips and continue, feeble attempts at containing the rhythm with shaky fingers. 

— I just wanted to help you with your life, not…this. 

He chuckles, unharmed hand presses on the small of your back to fix you in place. You lick your lips, understanding that he is not going to let you go this easily – you don’t want to behave like this, of course, it’s against the terms of your contract and your agreement to help him without feelings attached, but he moans so deeply for you, hips are buckling to fuck the firmness of your hand like he is ready to use your moist, prepared pussy. 

God, what are you even thinking about? 

You don’t know if you should be doing this, but the captain is not letting you go – and you can’t even do anything against his wishes, can you? 

— We really shouldn’t be doing this. 

— Quiet. I’ll help you out after my hand is healed, eh? — This isn’t what I’m talking about, sir. 

— Now, let’s not use that here. I’m sir in the field, not here. 

He is manipulating you as hard as he can – he can feel the tension in your eyes and the way you’re squeezing his cock, and he wants nothing more but to simply push you harder, make you fall apart in his hold like a precious porcelain vase. You’re sensitive and shy, just perfect for a bastard like him – his only regret is that the dumb cast on his right hand won’t really allow him to relax to have sex with you properly. 

He will pay you back later – on your back, on your knees, on your tummy, moaning his name as he plunges his seed deep into you. It was about time he’d settle down with a pretty wife of his own – he can afford you, certainly. 

— I can’t call you daddy, it’s embarrassing…

Your shy words are what send him over the edge. John Price was never a good guy to begin with, but your little pleas are enough to make him cum – and it’s certainly one of the biggest sins he has ever committed. Cute girl like you shouldn’t be so embarrassed about jerking him off, but here you are. 

Your hands are covered in cum as he continues to release his seed, only sad because he wasn’t able to breed you properly – that’s the agenda for the time when he finally is freed from this dumb cast. Might just ask Lasswell for extended leave. 

— You’ll just have to get used to this, love. Not letting you go after this. 

You can only whimper when he kisses you – possessive and tender at the same time. A silent promise of making you his dumb little wife. 

[specsthesecond]

Witch Troubles #3

It's a fairly common practice among witches to form pacts with demons.

It's not necessary but it's an age old practice meant to strengthen ones connection to magic. The witch gains a stronger connection to magic and in exchange the demon gains easier access to the mortal realm.

You've debated this decision for awhile and you finally think you're ready to forge your own pact. Worst case scenario is the demon refuses your offer, which would be embarrassing but not the end of the world.

You shut the door of your room, close the black out curtains and light a few candles. Squinting at the diagram of the summoning circle in your grimoir you try to replicate it perfectly on the old wooden floorboards in white chalk. When it's done you dust off your hands and place the candles in the right places around the circle along with a good amount of enchanted salt around the circumference for your protection. You stand up and take a breath before reciting the ancient words in your book while channeling all your energy into the circle.

The flames burn higher, so hot you have to shrink back a little. It takes all your effort and concentration to keep the chant going without misspeaking or burning the house down. A giant fire now billows in the centre of the circle, something large rises from the middle. You finish the spell and the flames gradually flicker away to reveal exactly the entity you were trying to summon. The little candles around the circle are the only source of light now, barely illuminating your guest. Smoke smoulders off its skin as it rises to full height and stares right at you with it's flaming eyes.

The demon, male it seems, stands in the middle of the summoning circle as tall as your book shelf and just about as wide. True to the drawings and diagrams in your texts he stands on two thick furry goat-like legs. The soft looking tuft at the end of his long thin tail swishes against the old floorboards as they creak under his weight. The rest of his body is charcoal black but otherwise fairly human save for the large goat-like skull that is his head. Beautiful horns, much too majestic for a demon, sprout from the white bone and curl into a thick loop on either side of his skull.

In short; he's the definition of tall, dark and handsome.

Two flaming pits behind the eye holes in the skull serve as eyes, they burn red and hot like the flames of hell as he glares down at you. You assume it's a glare, it's hard to tell.

You clap your grimoir shut, unable to look away from the demon yet. He seems the same, quietly observing you.

"Good evening, I'm sure you know why I've summoned you."

You say as calmly as possible. The demon looks you up and down and hums lowly, sceptical.

He grunts and crosses his arms over his chest. You have to use all your self control not to look down at the incredibly distracting package he's carrying between his legs as it bobs with the movement. Obviously you were prepared for him to be naked, demons don't wear clothes but actually having to practice that self-control is another thing entirely.

You're snapped out of your thoughts when the demon speaks, low and gravely like you expected.

"Witches used to dance for us around fires, bathe in the blood of sacrifices, throw orgies. This is all I get for my pact proposal?"

That's not what you expected. You were expecting some doubt sure but he sounds... offended? He's complaining?

"I don't need to do any of that to show you my worth. You can already sense my magic capabilities, I can show you- ."

He growls again. When he speaks his jaw bone doesn't move, the voice sounds like it reverberates around the skull on its way out.

"Its about devotion, witch. You show me your devotion and I'll give mine in return. No one cares for presentation anymore."

Who needs presentation? Sure, devotion is important in a pact but he's being ridiculous. You look around the room for a moment before saying flatly,

"My apologies but I will not be sacrificing anything or throwing any orgies and I cannot dance."

The demon scoffs and adjusts his crossed arms, thick biceps flexing as he does.

"All witches dance. Your ancestors where very good at it."

You scoff, telling him about your magic capabilities definitely isn't going to work. Why'd you have to get a difficult demon? Why couldn't you get a normal power-hungry one?

"Are you truly that compelled by naked dancing women?"

You attempt to needle him in hopes of avoiding what you know is inevitable. He doesn't respond, just stands there expectantly.

Some demons may agree to pacts based only on the power of the witch but others don't care for power and value the devotion of the act much more. You were very much hoping for the former but you're going to have to deal with what you got.

After a few moments of staring at eachother you finally crack and bend down to make quick work of your shoes and socks. You dropped your skirt around your ankles, take a deep breath and slide your panties down your legs. You see the demon shift his weight in your peripheral but you don't look at him as you unbutton your blouse and unclip your bra. You leave your black pointy hat on your head, assuming that's part of the appeal.

You only look back at him when you're completely naked, standing Infront of him and crossing your arms over your tits, mirroring his own stance.

He seems amused at that, You can see the little flames in his skull move up and down in a way that indicates he's soaking in your nude body.

"Unfortunately, dancing naked around a fire was not passed down to me like the magic was."

"A pity."

You scowl and the demon huffs smoke through the holes in his skull, chuckling.

"You're a witch, magic exists in your very veins. Use it. Caress your body. Sway your hips. Feel the power in your body and worship it as you would a god."

He says it like it's incredibly obvious and you actually feel inclined to listen to him. You close your eyes and try to "feel the power" whatever that means. You uncross your arms and place them on your thighs, slowly moving them up your waist and back down again.

Your skin feels especially sensitive being completely bare in front of such a powerful being, who is also naked. Just the light touch of your hand makes your skin prickle as you move your fingers slowly across yourself.

You start to arch and sway, hands moving up your thighs, across your stomach, along your neck. You free yourself, offering your body to this demon. The demon growls lowly and says in a deeper tone than before,

"The point of the pact is the connection. You summoned me, This is your pact to forge so show me your devotion."

His fiery eyes follow your every move, every sway of your hips and bounce of your tits.

You carefully run your hands from your waist up to your tits, briefly feeling the soft fat before moving up your shoulders. You stretch your arms high, now putting your tits on full display for your demon guest, the attention and cool air makes your nipples harden.

You turn around, your back facing the demon and he huffs irritably at being denied the sight of your perfect tits. His grievances are smothered when you bend down and run your hands up the back of your legs all the way to your ass, gripping the fat just enough to make it jiggle for him.

You can feel the room getting hotter, you can see his cock getting harder and you can feel the wetness In-between your legs as you dance.

You give one last tantalising hip sway before slowly dropping to your knees in front of him, on the edge of the salt circle. You look up at him while sliding your hands up your thighs, from here you have a perfect view of his half hard cock, looking so thick and heavy the sight has you nearly panting like a dog.

You rest your hands behind you, now presenting your entire body to him, tits perked and pussy drooling, devilishly tempting.

"Does that satisfy."

You say gazing up at him sultry gaze flicking down to his cock, you swear you saw it twitch.

"You know exactly what would satisfy me."

His voice is deeper than before, more gutteral and it makes you squirm. You might have been embarrassed about being so open about his effect on you if it wasn't for his obvious arousal for you. You're honestly just glad this is going well so far.

You lean forward, shuffle closer to the salt barrier and stick your tongue out, mouth open and waiting, silently begging for him.

The demon's hand goes to hold his cock immediately and he steps towards the barrier holding his cock out, but before he can place the tip on your hot tongue, you pull back slightly with a sick grin on your face.

The demon tries to grab your face but you retreat further, past the salt circle and therefore out of reach. You look up at his collosal frame with a smug smirk as he growls in irritation and the candle flames flicker violently.

"Don't forget, this is a mutual pact, demon. You don't call the shots... I want to be on top."

"What makes you thin-“

"I'm on top or you can go back home."

He grumbles something unintelligible, shaking his head in disbelief. One hand goes back to his cock idly stroking the thick member as he nods his head, accepting the terms.

You stand and steel yourself before wiping away a portion of the salt line with your foot, breaking the circle. You reach out for his hand and he accepts it with the hand not stroking his dick, stepping out of the circle and into your bedroom. His hands are immediately on your skin, thick fingers running along your waist and down to your hip. His skin is so warm, like the blood running through his veins is boiling hot giving the surface skin a pleasant warmth.

He stares down at you in suspense waiting for your go ahead.

You bring your hands up his chest and around his broad shoulders, and pull him down to your height only to push him down your body until his skull face is right Infront of your pussy. You let him get a good sniff of your smell before pushing him down to the ground with your foot, standing above him looking very tryumphant.

He doesn't have much time to marvel at your figure above him because before he knows it you're sitting on his dick, pussy pressing right against his cock, he bucks on instinct, the wet warmth of your pussy against the heat of his cock makes him let out a gutteral moan.

You slowly rock your hips back and forth the length of his cock, an impressive length but one you could manage. Neither of you can stand the foreplay any longer, his hands grip your waist at the same time you finally slide his cock into your waiting cunt.

You both groan at the feeling as you pop the mushroom head into your cunt and you slide your pussy down to the hilt, feeling every vein of his hot cock against your walls. You're so slick and needy the fat cock slides in with surprisingly little resistance. That makes him chuckle, which you cut off with a deliberate thrust of your hips.

Your screams are muffled and gargled but the sound of your wet pussy slapping and squelching around his cock as you cum echos throughout the room. He growls and snarls into your mouth when he gets close, tilting his head back in absolute bliss.

You plant your feet on either side of his waist, moving all the way up back to the tip and then plunging back down again taking him as deep as he'll go. You bounce and hump on this demons fat cock, tits bouncing in tandem, pretty face in the throws of pleasure. It's a sight to see and he loves every minute of it, clutching your hips but letting you control the pace.

The fur covering his legs is soft and warm against your ass as you ride your new pact mate. Your hands rest on his strong chest as you lose yourself even more in the intense pleasure. Panting and groaning, as you approach your high, your thrusts get more frantic as if you're trying to get him even deeper into your cunt. Your eyes are locked onto the way his pretty cock disappears Into to your cunt, the fur at the hilt becoming wet with your slick.

"Ah~ cum inside, cum inside, cum inside me!"

Your frantic pleas are heard when he wraps one arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest, his other hand firmly on your ass pushing into you as deep as possible. You finally cum around the throbbing cock clenching your walls deliciously, pressed into his chest. He cums seconds after you, shooting abnormally hot cum deep inside you. Your body stills as you cum down, his strong arms move you body against him in shallow thrusts as he bucks up into you, riding out his high.

You limply lie on his massive chest catching your breath as you come down, ignoring the drool you left on his pec. You realise he's eerily quiet and look up only to find he's staring at your face in a manner you think is expecant? Only then do you actually realise that his dick hasn't gone down at all. You can't help but laugh, pussy involuntarily clenching making the demon clutch your hips tighter.

"Is this all for me or is it just a demon thing?"

He huffs out camp fire smelling smoke from his skull and leans up into a seated position. The change in position makes his cock adjust and you moan softly at the feeling while grasping his large biceps.

"You've got jokes."

He looks down at you, you try to read his expression but it's really hard when his hands are massaging your hips so nicely and his cock is touching new spots inside you making your head all fuzzy. He smoothly lifts your thighs and flips you both over so that you're laying on your back and he's hovering above you.

It's such a glorious sight. This massive sexy otherworldly creature staring down at you with such lust. You can't stop yourself from pulling him in closer by the back of his neck and mumbling,

"Do demons kiss?"

The demon huffs again and opens his jaw showing his razor sharp teeth, from the darkness behind the skull comes three appendages, long and wet. Those are his tongues, and you moan a little when you realise that. He leans closer and the prehensile tongues worm their way to your mouth where you greet them, mouth ready and open. All three appendages slip into your mouth to explore and rub against your tongue, it's so messy and gross it makes you clench around his cock.

He grunts and thrusts into you, thrusting his tongues deeper into your mouth making you gag. You stick your head in his open maw, pulling him in closer by his thick horns. You take the tongues with vigor and suck on them like you would a cock. He seems to like this quite a bit as he grabs both your legs and pulls your knees up to your ears, bending you in half and presenting your dripping pussy to him. He starts thrusting his cock much deeper in your pussy than before while thrusting his tongues down your throat simultaneously.

The pleasure is so intense as he gradually speeds up, working up to a brutal pace. He fucks you into the floor, so deep, so good. It's so animalistic it makes you go feral. He tongue fucks your throat with fever, his dangerous maw wide open. Knowing that he could tear your flesh easily if he just closed his jaws around your head turns you on an unthinkable amount as you take his tongues deeper down your already full throat.

You want him deeper in your throat even as you choke and gag. You want him deeper in your pussy even as he pounds you raw and hard, reaching so deep he kisses your cervix. Your brain is mush and your thighs burn, you scratch and claw his back for some kind of grounding as you quickly reach your peak again.

He wraps his arms under your thighs and around your back to lift you up and squeeze you against his hot body. He pounds you even harder now with gravity on his side, forcing you down on his cock as he thrusts up in time.

Suddenly your body gets hot, he gets hot. His hold is like a hot vice and you struggle against it on instinct but he just holds you tighter. You almost scream when you feel a red hot flash in every artery and vein in your body. The heat is gone just as quickly as it came and you sigh in relief before looking up at him in shock when you suddenly realise what he just did.

His tongues leaves your mouth suddenly as he cums hard, groaning loudly as he fucks his seed deeper into your already soaked cunt. With your mouth free you groan like an snimal, tongue out, tears streaking down your face, spit running down your neck. You soak up the feeling of being folded in half and filled to the fucking brim by this demonic beast.

Your moans mix in the hot air between you. His cum is so thick and hot inside you, filling you up once again. You're so full you can't contain it all as it pours out of you and onto the floor. He gives a few slow, deep thrusts, milking his cock with your tight pussy as you lay limply in his hold.

You sit on the floor for a few minutes holding each other close and catching your breath. He nuzzles his head into your sweaty neck and moves your body into a more relaxed position so that he's hugging around your waist and your legs rest around his torso. You feel each other for a moment, his cock still plugging up your messy cunt. Hes quiet, like he's thinking about something. You're not sure you can even speak but if you could you don't really know what you would say.

He leans back to look at your face, you realise you probably look an absolute mess, tear streaked face with spit all over your mouth and chin. He looks into your eyes like he's looking for something specific and you look back into his two small flames. He slightly nods and then holds you close to his chest once more, enveloping you with his body.

He accepted the pact proposal.

You let out a breathless laugh and lean up to place wet kisses all over his skull head.

He growls low and irritable like a cat.

"That's not necessary."

He grumbles like he's annoyed but doesn't move away from you as you give a few more kisses along his jaw. His tail swishes idly behind him.

"Well neither was fucking me. Twice."

You tease him while reaching for your discarded hat and plopping it back on your head. You shakily stand up on wobbly legs, he holds his hands out to your hips to stabilise you. Cum drips out of your cunt and his gaze is drawn to where it oozes down your thighs.

"Not that I'm complaining."

You balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders and clear your throat, trying to seem a little put together as he stares up at you. You very casually lift your leg to rest it on his shoulder, presenting your puffy, dripping cunt to him.

"Are you the fuck and leave type or do you stay for the cleanup? "

The demon chuckles and opens his maw again, wet tongues slipping out and reaching for you, licking up your cum covered thighs and up to the source of the mess.

You're both going to make very good use of this pact.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Imagine House who can tell something is off with you but can't figure out what. It bothers him immensely, and he gets prickly about it. Now, when you finally tell him you're pregnant, he damn near has a heart attack.

A/n: I LOVE THIS!

House loved you.

Truly...you were the one person besides Wilson that seemed to see the best in a cynical bastard like himself.

But of their was one thing he couldn't stand not being able to figure something out and right now you were putting him in that moment.

House had knew something was off with you, and it was driving him crazy. You'd been acting differently for weeks—distracted, quiet at times, and oddly sentimental in others. You’d smile at him like you had a secret, then brush it off when he asked you what was going on.This was maddening. He hated being out of the loop.

His frustration started bubbling to the surface in typical House fashion—sharp comments, teasing questions disguised as jabs, and an almost childish insistence that you were hiding something from him.

“You’re fidgeting,” he said one evening as you both sat on the couch. He gestured with his cane as if it were a pointer, accusing you as if you were on trial. “You never fidget. Unless you’ve taken up a secret career as a poker player, there’s something you’re not telling me...what is it?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, trying to keep a straight face. “Greg, not everything has to be some big mystery.”

“Except when it is,” he shot back. “You’ve been weird lately. Quieter. Glowing, but not in your usual annoyingly optimistic way. It’s like…sunshine and overpowering of sunshine but with a side of nerves. So Spill.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. He was so perceptive it was almost unfair, but this time, you didn’t feel quite ready to tell him. Not yet, not when you had to make sure“Maybe I’ve just been working too much.”

House narrowed his eyes, unconvinced. “Or maybe you’re secretly building a bunker for the end of the world. Honestly, that seems more plausible.”

You laughed, leaning into his shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you love me,” he quipped, poking your side gently. But the smirk on his face faded as he looked at you, his eyes searching yours. “Seriously, Y/n. If something’s going on, you can tell me. I’m not as scary as I look nor as fragile."

You hesitated, your smile faltering for just a moment before you shook your head. “Not yet, Greg. I’ll tell you when I’m ready....please."

With a grumble, House relaxed into the couch but this was far from over.

It was a week later, and House was still obsessing over it. He found himself analyzing every move yoy made, every shift in your tone. He was annoyed—at you for keeping him in the dark and at himself for caring so much.

But that night, you decided it was time. You couldn’t keep it to yourself any longer, not when he was practically bursting with curiosity. They were in his apartment, eating takeout, when you set down your fork and took a deep breath.

“Greg, we need to talk,” you said softly.

House froze mid-bite, his brain instantly jumping to the worst-case scenario. His eyes narrowed. “That’s never a good start. Are you dying? Did you cheat on me? Wait, don’t answer that—I’d know. I’m a doctor.”

You shook your head, smiling at his dramatics. “No, I’m not dying. And no, I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Well, that narrows it down to alien abduction or—”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words hit him like a freight train. For a moment, he didn’t react at all, just staring at you with wide eyes as his brain worked overtime to process what you'd just said. Then, slowly, he set his takeout box aside, his hands suddenly feeling too clumsy to hold anything.

“You’re…pregnant?” he repeated, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. His heart was hammering in his chest and he could have sworn he might have a heart attack.

You nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes. About two months.”

House blinked, his usual quick wit completely failing him. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but no words came out. Finally, he let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair. “I…you’re serious?”

He didn't know how that was never an option in his made up scenarios. Maybe it was due to him thinking it couldn't happen, that he didn't deserve to be happy, didn't deserve this.

He could see it now, now that you said it, now that he got a proper look at you. You had a soft glow about you. The one he'd often see in expecting mothers in the hospital, the subtle curve of your stomach. He suddenly felt like an idiot now.

“Yes, Greg,” you said, your tone gentle. “I’m serious.”

He leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers to the universe. “Holy crap,” he muttered. “I’m gonna be a dad.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his stunned expression. “Is that a good ‘holy crap’ or a bad one?”

House looked at you then, his blue eyes wide and unguarded in a way you rarely saw. Slowly, a small, almost boyish smile spread across his face. “It’s…a terrifying ‘holy crap.’ But I think it’s also a good one.”

Relief washed over you, as you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “I know it’s a lot, Greg. But I think we can do this. Together.”

He squeezed your hand, his mind racing. “We’re having a baby,” he said again, as if saying it out loud would make it more real. Then, in true House fashion, he added with a smirk, “This kid’s gonna have your brains and my charm. God help the world.”

You laughed, leaning into his side. “And your sarcasm, I’m sure.”

“And your optimism,” he countered, his tone softening as he looked at you. “Kid’s gonna be unstoppable.”

For the first time in a long time, House felt something he rarely allowed himself to feel: hope. Sure, he was terrified. He had no idea how to be a father, but as he sat there with your hand in his, he realized something important.

He wasn’t alone in this. And maybe, just maybe, he could figure it out—with you.

[leonw4nter]

I really like ur fics with Leon as a dad 🤍 can I request one where it’s angst at the start but happy at the end? I think with Leon’s job he’s probably alway moving to new places and his wife is kinda at the point where she just can’t take it and worried for their kid?

My Baby Here On Earth Showed Me What My Heart Was Worth

Husband!RE:Damnation!Leon x F!Reader

“The kids are sleeping now,” you quietly tell your husband as you get into bed with him.

He hums a response, setting aside a copy of William Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury as he gets up. To go look at the kids one more time for the night, he says as he walks around the foot of the bed and towards the door. You wait until Leon noiselessly closes the door, his footsteps growing fainter as he grows more distanced from you, to sigh deeply, sitting up to lean against the cold headboard as you bury your face in your hands for a moment. You love Leon and you know that he loves you and your kids too but he’s grown increasingly distant with each passing day after coming home from deployment to the Eastern Slav Republic. You’ve done your best to show that you’re there for him, initiating conversations and even giving him simple compliments but the most he’s done is look in your direction and nod. A hum and a forced smile, if you’re lucky and he’s feeling less bad about himself. He still took care of the kids, driving them to school and playing with them in the afternoons but it’s clear that his mind is far from home. Even the kids could sense just how weary their father is, doing their best to cheer him up by giving him colorful drawings and letters. “Don’t be sad, daddy! Me, Ollie, and mama are here for yuo!” one of them reads, the word ‘you’ misspelled but Leon loved it nonetheless. For a quick moment he genuinely smiled whenever he read the letters and saw the drawings again before the frown took its place in his face again as he put the artwork in a folder and placed it back in the drawer cabinet.

You lifted your head from your hands when Leon walked back in, silent as always as he headed back to his side of the bed. You stared at him, urging him to say something–anything, just to dissolve the wall that he put up around himself but to no one’s surprise, he doesn’t speak. He checks the time on his phone and decides that it’s far too late to continue reading his book and sinks down beneath the covers, muttering a nearly inaudible ‘goodnight’ to you before he closes his eyes and drifts to sleep. Hurt, you scoff at how distant he feels. Physically, he’s home and with you but you know that emotionally and mentally, he’s still on the other side of the world and dealing with Tyrants, Lickers, and corrupt leaders. Turning the lamp off, you sink into the sheets as well and turn to face the wall. You have so much to say, so much to express to him but you’re afraid that this will only push him further from you even more. Worst case scenario, he packs his bags and sleeps in a hotel for a week before coming home plastered. He’s never done that before but you don’t want this rift to widen to the point he even considers doing that, maybe even leave behind the family he has with you for the enigmatic woman in red. Inhaling deeply, you shut your eyes before you speak to him. You don’t even think deeply about what you’re doing before your fears get to you and force you to shut up again.

“I can’t keep doing this, Leon.” You shakily begin. “We can’t keep doing this. I’m here for you, so are the kids, but you’re pushing us all away.”

“I need space.” He responds. Short and curt, straight to the point but you wish he said more.

“What does ‘space’ mean to you, Leon?” you gently ask as you sit up and face him who is still curled up on his side, his face hidden away like a secret. “I just want to know what I can do to support you while also giving you some time alone.”

“Leave me alone. There. That’s the kind of space I want,” he grumbles as he sits up, facing you. You stay silent for a moment, your sympathetic gaze on him but his eyes are elsewhere as he runs a hand through his dark hair, not wanting to see the look on your face.

“Okay. But let’s still talk, okay? Let’s voice out how we feel and communicate, I want to be able to provide you with what you need–”

“Why are you doing this?” Leon interrupts, not out of irritation but rather out of wonder. Your eyes widen for a quick moment before you inch a little near him, hesitant to reach out and place your hand on his hand.

“Because I care for you, Leon, and I don’t want to see you suffer alone. I want to be here for you and share the weight of the world on your shoulders too. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself, I can see it eating away at you.”

He doesn’t stop you when you take his hand, feeling the scars and calluses on them. He quite misses your touch, actually, but he felt like he was throwing himself a pity party whenever he thought about asking you for a hug or a kiss.

“I don’t want to bring home anything from work,” he explains. “I don’t plan on mixing it– work and home life… and I didn’t expect for it to get to this. That I’m pushing you and the kids away. I don’t… I don’t want my family to even think about how the monsters I’ve killed looked like or how I killed them. Something as precious as you three don’t deserve that. Our little ones, most of all.”

Pulling him in for the first hug in nearly two weeks, after two weeks of Leon trying to avoid your physical display of affection, he gives in. He leans his forehead on your shoulder but doesn’t wrap his arms around you and instead, lies limply on his side.

“Oh Leon,” you delicately whisper. Sushing and humming the same tune you used to hum when your toddlers were still tiny babies, you tenderly sway Leon from side to side in order to ease all the anguish he bottled up and refused to share. It doesn’t take long for his tears to wet your shoulder, his large frame shaken with stifled sobs. He went by “Condor One”, “Agent Kennedy”, and many other aliases required by his job but at the end of the day, he is your Leon Scott Kennedy. “Daddy”, as his dear children would call him.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

Leon slept in your arms, his head buried in your side with an arm slung around your stomach, for the first time in the longest time. He still shook and spoke in his sleep, flinching at times, but his sleep appeared to be much more restful. It was your turn to be unable to fall asleep now, a hand gently patting Leon’s shoulder blade with a watchful eye observing him. You were tired from the entire day and the crying you did with him hours ago but you couldn’t find it in you to doze off; you thought about your kids’ future and raising them, along with considering the fact that Leon was rarely home for a long time and was always moving to new places for indefinite periods. Each mission brought the fear that this would be the last time you’d see Leon alive, to be talking to you in person and that what would come home to you are two agents holding a folded flag, an urn, and what remained of his gear instead. It would be cruel for Leon, who proudly proclaims that his life has only begun when he met you. Leon, who knew what it meant to truly live when he found out that you were pregnant with his children. You knew that it also hurt Leon to leave at ungodly hours of the night when he was going to be deployed for a mission and to think that his kids would wonder where their daddy is and why he’s always gone. You’re used to Leon’s constant absence but it doesn’t hurt any less each time he has to go. His job is bad for your heart, constantly putting it in a state of worry and fear. It always stung whenever your kids asked if they could go with Leon when he had to leave on an “adventure” because they wanted to spend more time with him. You hated breaking the news to Leon that he’d have to miss out on another one of their school events, having to phone Chris or Patrick to attend in his place; he sounded so pained whenever he asked about the details of the event, his dreams of walking up the stage and being active in his childrens’ schooling playing in his head every time he closed his eyes for a quick nap before being back on his feet and killing monsters. Ultimately, you decided to give the kids a day trip with Leon since their only trip with Leon was when they were still babies. Sighing once more before giving sleep another try, you start to mentally compile all the things needed for tomorrow’s road trip.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“She’s already got a stain on his shirt and the ice cream hasn’t even melted yet,” Leon says with an amused grin as he tries to wipe the chocolate off of Euphemia’s pink shirt with a wet wipe. You’re preoccupied with watching over the other twin Ollie, who’s trying to call a stray cat and give the kitty a lick of his vanilla ice cream. You look back at Leon, who’s giving his daughter kisses as he got the stain to look a lot less dark than it was earlier.

“Pheme still tends to get ice cream everywhere,” you softly tell him as you offer another set of wipes, to which he declines since the stain isn’t obvious and the wipes could be used for later. Leon smiles when he notices you use the nickname he gave to Euphemia; he’s managed to get you to use this one instead of his other loving nickname for Oliver, “Rolliver Polliver”, derived from when Ollie almost ate a roly poly bug.

All of you finish eating ice cream without getting any more stains or a cat being fed something it shouldn’t be fed and get back to the car, hitting the road once more. Queen, Hall & Oates, Elton John, and The Flamingos have been traded for nursery rhymes and songs to induce sleep in toddlers in order to get them to nap a little bit. Instead of Leon sitting in the passenger seat with you, he decided to sit at the back in between the kids in order to spend some time being near them on the road trip. The twins seemed to have gotten their habit of sleeping with their head leaned back and mouth slightly ajar while softly snoring from Leon, who is also asleep with his hands on their child car seat. Caught in a red light, you quietly observe this tender moment in the front and snap a few pictures of them with your digital camera from 1989 that still surprisingly works well. You giggle at the sight behind you, heart melting at seeing your husband and children look so adorable. His jacket is on your lap when you told him that you were feeling a little chilly, insisting that he’s fine in the back without one. Just earlier, he was making funny faces and holding a serious, one-sided conversation with his little ones, making them laugh and giggle at his every word and now they’re all asleep together. If it means having more moments like this, you’re ready to fight the D.S.O. for keeping your husband occupied on the other side of the world. You guess that it’s also moments like these that Leon continues to fight bioterrorism so that other families can safely enjoy moments like this one without worrying about monsters coming to harm their loved ones. Since the red light is still going and you seem to have been caught in a moderate traffic, you take out your video cam and film the soft scene behind you. “Papa and the kiddos are sleeping together, their snoring isn’t in sync so there’s no moment of silence for me but I don’t mind. I love you all so much and momma is very happy right now.”

After nearly four hours of driving, you four finally get to the cliff overlooking the great wide sea. Parking your car to a safe place, you take out the picnic basket and start preparing your spot. You two chose a spot underneath the shade of a thick tuliptree, a cover from the hot sun. The kids have been asking so much about finally being able to play soccer and ‘helicopter’, a game where Pheme and Ollie hang from Leon’s arms as he spins around (the twins have promised to never, ever play ‘helicopter’ again because they got dizzy but they seem to have ‘forgotten’ it this time) and you explained that they can play an hour after having the picnic and when the sun isn’t so hot anymore. Leon agrees and although the twins don’t seem too happy, they don’t appear to mind it that much since they’re eager to help Leon in unloading the car (he gave them the lighter tasks). As soon as the food is set and most of the bugs have been successfully warded off, the twins gather to sit beside you but before everyone can take a bite of the sandwiches, Leon gets up and takes the digital camera and snaps a couple of pictures, even attempting a selfie at one point. Soon, everyone digs into their sandwiches and stuffs their faces full of the snacks you and Leon prepared together in the morning.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After what felt like the nth picture Leon has taken of you and the twins, he finally puts the camera down and puts it back in its case but picks up the video cam instead. The twins groan, urging their dad for more playtime even if they’re drenched in sweat with dirty knees.

“5 minutes,” Leon says as he starts recording. “Papa’s back hurts. Why don’t you ask mama?”

“Mama already played! She can’t carry us and she says she’s also tired! She’s reading now!” Pheme exclaims.

He points the camera towards you, reading a pocketbook in the picnic basket while dabbing your forehead and neck with a towel. He laughs and calls you, causing you to look up from the book you were engrossed with and blow him a kiss. He laughs one more time, ‘catching’ the kiss and placing it inside his shorts pocket which gets a giggle out of you.

“My beautiful wife is uhh sitting there, she’s reading.” He narrates as he zooms in. “Very beautiful, the sunlight is hitting her just right. Gosh, she makes me nervous and she doesn’t even know. Love her very much.”

He zooms out and zooms into his children, who decide to take interest in the rocks and starts flinging them towards the cliff with the intention to try to fling it to the ocean, which is quite far from where they are.

“Hey kiddos,” he says as he walks up to them and pats them with his free hand. “What’re you doin’?”

“We’re trying to throw rocks into the ocean!” Ollie and Pheme cheerfully explain, showing their rocks to the lens before flinging it with all their tiny might.

“Ooh, that’s quite far honey,” Leon comments. “Want me to try?”

The twins cheer and he takes that as an opportunity to throw one, the recording being temporarily shaky.

“Woah! You threw it far, papa!” The twins say and clap, determined to throw it as far as he did. He helps the twins throw it, focused on teaching them how to aim and the force they need to exert to fling it a little farther.

After several minutes of flinging rocks and random conversations with your husband and your kids, you call them over to look at the pictures Leon has taken. Everyone gathers around you as you look at each one, oohing and aahing at Leon’s photography skills. Leon focuses the cam on the pictures popping up in the digital camera, chipping in with his thoughts.

“Mommy looks amazing there,” he breathily says. “Divine. What’d you think, Pheme?”

“So pretty!” She beams before giving you a big kiss on the cheek. Ollie giggles and snuggles closer to you, occasionally pointing to the pictures.

Like you guessed, most of the pictures are of you, the kids, or both. Observant like their dad, they picked up on this as well.

“Pa, you’re not in a lot of the photos! It’s always us or mama!”

Leon chuckled, ruffling his kids’ heads. He extends a pointer finger to a shadow in the image before you switch to another one, pointing to the tall shadow once again.

“That’s me,” Leon explains. “I’m the shadow.”

His twins seem confused, falling into silence along with you, who is also intrigued by Leon’s words.

“When you look at these pictures when you’re bigger, I want you all to know that I’m always here. These are proofs that I’m with you because I’m the shadow and I’ll always look out for all three of you,” he explains

The twins say ‘aww’ at the same time and tackle his legs, hugging him tight. While you set the camera down and look at Leon with a small pout and slightly glossy eyes. Leon chuckles softly and places a free hand on your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before you join your twins in giving him a big bear hug as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I love you, Leon.” You softly tell him, warm breath fanning against his neck.

“Me too, sweetheart. I love you more.” He tenderly responds as he hugs you and the kids back.

He’s thankful that this tender moment is caught on camera so he can rewatch it several more times before he goes to bed.

NOTE - I hope you liked this fic anon!!! At first, I wasn't super confident about writing this or how it'll turn out but I think it turned out nicely ngl :) YALL. I finally got my driver's license. I can drive. Do I know how to? I know the theoretical aspects of it but driving itself? Running a motor vehicle? I have yet to learn (it's on June 20-21 and my dad will teach me until I get better)... I also scarfed down a big spicy bowl of ramen coz I didn't have breakfast this morning <3 Also, It's not rlly embarrassing for me to be writing fics while my parents r sitting at the back (I'm at my living room) but making the border??? Looking for pics of Leon??? It's embarassing for me 😭😭 My dad said that my Chris capcorom looks like a Bánh bò and ngl I kinda see it 😭😭 There's a Japanese mall where I live and I'll be going there tomorrow so hopefully yk there's a copy of any RE book or manga (PLEASEPLEASEPLE) Anyways, that's it and thank you for readings my fics!!!!!! I <33333 UUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The wavy divider was made by @kaitsawamura , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[shadowbriar]

Matt Murdock — Without Me

Pairing : Matt Murdock x (she/her) Reader Word Count : 3.9k Warning : Angst as requested but with fluff ending. Insecurity. Miscommunication/Misunderstanding. Synopsis : She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. Notes : this fic was a request. If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕

It was never easy.

No matter how many years they've spent together, the countless dates they went to, and the umpteen charming moments they've shared, dating Matt Murdock was never easy still.

Lord knows just how hard she tries to turn it off. To stop her mind from wandering to the dark places and to not think of the worst possible scenarios whenever the slightest inconvenience happens. She's tried her best, truly she has, to be a little more nonchalant whenever it comes to him, but it proved to be an impossible task to do. Perhaps when you care about someone a little too much than needed, the chance of keeping one's self collected inevitably becomes impossible.

Foggy and Marci’s wedding invitation laid proud on the coffee table, silently mocking her name whenever she was the only one left in the apartment. She knew, even without bringing the topic to light, that marriage was never an option with him. There’s just too many things in his hands, too many problems laid on his shoulders for him to ever weigh the possibility of matrimony.

She understood, a little too well, the reason for his silence. And though she once dreamed of having a family of her own, having mini versions of her and him running around the apartment and knocking over the cup of tea that would stain their rugged carpet, she’s learned to bury such thoughts in the deepest pit of her heart. She reckons, sacrificing something that she’s never had before would be less painful than losing the one she already has.

Five years of being loved by Matt Murdock would certainly make you a little too attached to the man.

But even with his gentle touch, the sweet nothings he whispered in her ears and the embrace he would always blanket her nights with, fear was never kept too far away. As much as she loves and understands him, as much as he worships and adores her, Matt was never an easy riddle to solve. His mind works with such complexity she’d never truly decipher. Oftentimes his actions speak much louder than his words and the past few days have only served as the new demons she has to battle with at night.

There’s always been more paperwork, more cases that needed his urgent attention before he could excuse himself out of the office, and even when his job was done, his other calls would already become too urgent for him to ignore. One too many rain checks done for their dates, that she couldn’t even bother asking if they could find a replacement date. Matt’s a busy man, his growing reputation and the demand Daredevil would have to serve at night were something she’s accepted, what she’s yet to understand, however, is his lack of communication. There were less words, less explanations and reassurance for her to hold on to. The blackhole that she’s currently drowning in was quiet and deadly. Something that he would not notice with the lack of presence.

Now she sits alone in their apartment, eyes vacant and barely blinking while her brain haywired. Perhaps this sudden change of action was caused by her wrongdoings. She tries to trace down every possible mistake she might have made, every misspoken word and unintentional actions, in an attempt to find a way to fix it. To apologise for whatever fault she’s committed before the sin stained a little too deep to ever be fixed.

If this was anyone else, she would’ve been upfront and ask if there’s anything wrong, confront the issue head-on without a care in the world, but this is Matt. He pushes people as easily as he draws them. One wrong movement and she fears all hell would break loose for them.

“Baby?” she heard Matt call, turning her head to see him entering from the staircase “What are you still doing up? It’s late.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” she answers, walking to him and taking his helmet away “Was it an easy patrol?”

“Quite, yeah. Not too bad but not too boring either,” he says with a grin “I’ve missed you.”

She sighs, letting his hands rest on her waist while hers encircle his neck, “Yeah, well, you’ve been busy.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he says regretfully “Say, why don’t we go to that restaurant you’ve been wanting to try? The Italian one? How about this Friday, will you be free then?”

“I don’t know, will you? You’re the one who’s been so occupied lately.”

“I’ll be free on Friday, I promise,” he says excitedly, stealing a peck on her lips “So what do you say? Friday after work?”

Another tired sigh escapes her. Moments like this melts her worry away. Staring into his beautiful face, seeing that charming smile tugged on the corner of his lips, while his body was pressed against her. But as much as she treasures this, as much as she appreciates the comfort he could always bring her, she knew that the dark cloud would return the moment he’s out of her sight.

Gently, she leans in and kisses him. Matt’s grip on her shirt tightens, smiling between the kiss in satisfaction. Perhaps he misses her just as much as she missed him.

“Friday, it is.”

—-

She peeled herself off of the blanket with a huge sigh. The other side of the bed was cold, signifying that he’s been out for quite some time but she couldn’t find it in herself to frown. They do have a date afterwards. Perhaps Matt just wanted to make sure that he’s done all his work on time before they could escape their hectic lives for an hour or two.

It was still early for her to get ready for work, but coming early and finishing her tasks as soon as possible so she could have more time to doll herself up before the date sounds like a better plan to do. She sits up from the bed, hand carelessly reaching for the hair tie on the bedside table before knocking Matt’s phone in the process.

She picks up the item, thinking that it was one of the rare occurrences for him to forget his belongings. Reckon she really needs to get ready now so she could drop by his office and give him his phone, but her frown grows when someone calls.

“Hello?” she says as she picks it up.

“Oh, shit,” the other end of the line says before hanging up.

It was a woman. A voice that she was unfamiliar with. The twist in her gut grew, spreading through her veins like venom. She’s never one to pry on Matt’s phone, always confident in his loyalty, but given his absence and the strange call, her fingers couldn’t stop themselves from punching the passcode.

There was no text history with the caller, but there were several call logs, dating far into the past few weeks when he started to be ‘busy’. She wanted to call back the woman, ask her who she is and why she has been on frequent calls with her boyfriend, but she was too scared to face the possible truth. Too afraid to welcome the pour of the icy reality— that he’s found someone else.

“Oh, you’re up!” Matt says, cheeks flushed with slight panting “I forgot my phone.”

“Yeah, I know,” she answers, her voice caught in her throat. Still trying to process the event that’s just happened and how to act in front of him “I— Someone— Gwyneth called.”

“Oh,” his tongue darts to lick his lips, visibly looking nervous now “What did she say?”

“Nothing, she— She hung up.”

“Your heart is beating fast,” Matt notes “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just— Did you run back here?”

“I did, yeah. I was already at the office when I realised I'd forgotten my phone. I need it for the case I’m currently working on,” he answers, walking to her with careful steps “Can I have it, please?”

She swallows the lump in her throat, handing him the item in silence.

“Thank you,” Matt says, placing a kiss on the crown of her head “Listen, I have to run back, I’m having a meeting with a client in five minutes. I’ll see you later for our date, okay?”

She was still silent, breath hitched and sweats forming in the back of her neck.

“Baby?”

“Yeah, okay,” she finally answers, looking up to meet his eyes “I’ll see you later.”

Matt hesitated. He looks as if he was debating to ask something, looking conflicted over whatever it is that might be troubling his mind but the words died in his tongue. Perhaps unsure if he would want to pour petrol over the turmoil that’s evidently building between them. His finger taps on the phone in his palm as he says instead, “I love you.”

She forces a smile, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to see it but it was the only attempt she could pull to suppress the tears that were slowly watering her eyes, “I know.”

“You’re not gonna say it back?”

“You know I love you,” She says, kissing the back of his hand that was holding the phone “Go, you’re going to be late for the meeting.”

Matt smiles, stealing a kiss from her lips before heading back out.

—-

Her breathing was rigid. The movement of her chest forced as if trying her best to compose herself. Her lips were pressed in a tight smile, chewing her meal silently as she tried to focus on the words Matt was saying.

She tries, God knows she tries, to forget about this morning’s incident. Perhaps Gwyneth was the client he was supposed to meet. It surely isn't strange for him to have frequent calls with her if that was the case, but why does it feel wrong? Why does it feel like there’s something bigger that she wasn’t aware of? Why does it feel as if there was something Matt wasn’t telling?

“Love,” Matt calls, taking her hand slowly in his “Are you alright? You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she lies through her teeth.

“Are you sure? Your heart has been beating like crazy all night.”

“Yeah, well, maybe stop listening to my heartbeat for once, Matt.”

The smile on his face waters, surprised to hear her bitter spat.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound as cruel,” she sighs, taking her hand away from him to rub her temples “I just have a lot of things in mind.”

Matt sighs, nodding in understanding, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Yes, she wanted to say, let’s talk about the affair you’re having behind me.

But is she ready? Is she ready to be stripped off of the fantasy that she’s tried so hard to build with him? Is she ready to bid goodbye to all the dreams and hopes she’s made with him? Is she ready to accept the fact that there would be no Matt in her future?

It was pathetic, sure, to hold on to the last strings of hope when the most possible outcome is laid bare in front of her. To be stubborn for once against the demons that are torturing her mind. But Matt is the only good thing in her life she’d never be ready to lose. He is the one thing she would rather risk her life for than to ever be separated from. Even if she has to turn a blind eye and pretend as if the romance they’re living in was pure and innocent.

“No, it’s fine,” she says, letting out a sigh to collect her composure “How’s your meeting? Did it go well?”

“Splendid. Listen, I have something to talk to you about,” he says, deflecting the topic. Matt takes a nervous gulp. His hands are now under the table, invisible to her eyes “I– Uh, I don’t know where to start.”

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the tears threatened to form on her eyes. This must be it. The nervousness that has been bleeding out of him, the continuous rambling he does the whole night to mask his uneasiness, the way he keeps on rubbing his palm on his trousers. This must be it. This must be their end.

“You know how we’ve been together for quite some time now,” Matt starts, his hands still hidden under the table “I know five years with me must not have been the easiest for you. I know just how difficult it could be, living with me and accepting the life that I’m living in. I know that we didn’t always have sunshine and rainbows. Most of the time we have storms and thunders, really, yet we’re still here. You’re still here,” He says gently, his left hand reaching for hers “I know that you deserve better, that you can find someone better—”

She abruptly stood on her feet, letting his hand go in the process that he retreats it fast and hides it under the table once again. Her breathing was heavy, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Matt asks with a worried tone, still sitting on his seat.

“I have to get out of here.”

“W-What?”

She spared him no other word, grabbing her purse and bolting herself out of the restaurant.

Her heart was hammering inside her chest. By the time she hailed for a taxi, her cheeks were already wet with tears. The night she’s been looking forward to, the one date she hoped would flush all of her worries down the drain, turns out to be her worst nightmare. Never would she ever expect Matt to be this cruel. To lead her on, promising a lovely date when they haven’t seen each other for so long, only to break up with her before the clock strikes at nine. With an illicit affair she wasn’t aware of until the very morning, should one add.

“Wait, wait,” Matt says, stopping the taxi door before it closes “Where are you going? What happened?”

“Just leave me alone, Matt, please,” she begs through her tears.

“Baby, why are you crying?”

“Leave me alone, Matt. I don’t want to see you tonight.”

“I— What did I do?”

“Just— Please, don’t make it any harder than it already is.”

Matt was appalled, confused as to what might trigger this response, but he could feel just how upset she was. Her body was shaking, fingers trembling as they frantically wiped the tears that kept on flowing. Never had he ever seen her this distraught and Matt was scared that he would do more harm than good to try and talk with her about it, so he surrenders, “Okay, we’ll go home, okay? Let me just pay for dinner first.”

“No, I’m not going home. I told you, I don’t want to see you, okay!” She says, this time with a raise of voice as her anger slowly seeps in “I just want you to leave me alone, is that really too much to ask for?”

Hurt was evident on his face now, but she was too caught up with her own emotions to notice it.

“Please, Matt,” She begs, her voice hoarse in plea “Please let me go.”

Matt nods, ceasing his last attempt to hold her as he closes the taxi door. He listens as the driver steps on the gas, driving her away to wherever it is she might go. Though the car drives further from him, the sound of her sobs only grows louder in his ear. He wasn’t sure what he did, what he said that might have prompted this response, but whatever it is, he knew that he’s royally ruined what could’ve been the best night of their lives.

—-

It has been a week since she fled Hell’s Kitchen. She knew that there’s no corner in the city that he wouldn’t scour to find her, so she had to go a little farther to find shelter. She needed time and space to think, to take in the cruel reality that has finally caught up with her, before she could take baby steps towards acceptance. 

On the second day, she no longer breaks in tears whenever she looks into her phone and see the many messages Matt has left. By the fourth day, she could partly accept the fact that their ship had sunk. That trying to mend what’s been broken would only restrain him from his freedom, from loving the one person he might actually meant to be with. She loves him, too much for words to ever truly express it, but if being with another woman brings him better happiness, then she would sacrifice herself and blow the candle out. She would let him go.

The suffocation she feels in her lungs the moment she steps in the apartment was unbearable but she dragged her feet still. She whispers her silent goodbye, fingers tracing the walls of the apartment that she would soon leave. Her eyes study the surroundings, memorising each detail of Matt’s loft that she loved so much before she’s no longer welcomed.

She wonders if whoever would live with him next would keep the flower vase by the window. She wonders if they would change the lights in the living room. She wonders if they would paint the walls and fix the squeaky bathroom door. She wonders just how much of her remnants would be left untouched.

“You’re home,” Matt greets, breathless as if he just jolted out of bed.

It’s clear to see that he was in a wreck. The stubbles on his face were unkempt, new bruises littering his body. Matt looks defeated. Like he’s been dragged through a losing war and shattered beyond saving.

“I’m just here to take my things,” she says with a shaky voice, trying her best to keep herself calm and collected “I won’t take long. I’ll take whatever I couldn’t pack today on the weekends.”

“Where are you going?” He frowns, tilting his head a little in confusion “Why are you leaving?”

“Well, I’ve held you back long enough, haven’t I? It’s about time I let you go,” she says with a heartbroken sniffle, forcing a self-pitying smile “I won’t keep you from anyone, anymore. You’re free.”

Matt takes a few steps closer, his brows knitted as he finds himself further lost in the conversation, “Hold me back— Free— What are you talking about?”

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? The other night? You wanted to break up with me,” she explains, swallowing the hard pill “I understand. I’ve accepted it, too. We don’t have to go through that conversation again.”

“Break up— What?”

“Matt, don’t play dumb with me,” she says with her patience wearing thin “I know everything. I know why you’ve been so busy lately. I know about your affair with Gwyneth, I know it all.”

“Affair? Gwyneth?” Matt questions, running a hand through his hair as he tries to place the puzzle pieces together “What are you talking about?”

“Look, you can really stop being a douche and just get off with it, alright? Do you really expect me to spell it to you? You cheated on me with Gwyneth. There, I said it.”

“I— What makes you think that I cheated on you with her?”

“Well, you’ve been gone. You have lots of call logs with her and they all aligned to the days when you started being distant. And that day when she called, she hung up because she heard my voice, didn’t she? She was scared that I’d find out about you two, well, guess what, I did.”

Matt’s lips were parted. The crease on his forehead was still deep as he tried to let her words sink in. He visibly looks baffled to the point that she starts to wonder if she’s making the right sense, but she wouldn’t let that puppy eye and innocent look on his face water her walls down. She’s given more than enough understanding for him to ever play her this way.

“Well? What do you have to say about yourself?” she asks, folding her hands in front of her chest “No arguments to defend yourself, Mr. Attorney?”

The corners of his lips tugged upward as he let out a satisfied sigh. Colours returned to his face the moment his brain caught up with her words. Like a lighting bulb glowing after it's been switched on. Without a word, Matt walks back to the bedroom. He returned not even a minute later with a small box in his hand.

“I have not been cheating on you,” he begins, taking one of her hands gently “I would never, ever, betray us like that. I love you too much to ever think about anyone else.”

“But Gwyneth—,”

“Gwyneth is a jeweller that has been helping me find the right ring for someone,” Matt cuts in, opening the box for her to see “I didn’t know what kind of ring you’d like, what design or what gem you’d like on it, so I looked for some personal jeweller to help me out.”

She was left speechless, looking down to the ring with utter embarrassment.

“When you picked up her call, she was trying to tell me that the ring was ready, but she didn’t expect you to answer. She was caught off guard, scared that she might spoil your surprise.”

Her head hangs low. Just how ridiculously stupid could she be. She was ashamed of thinking the worst, labelling names on Matt that should never have even crossed her mind. How is she supposed to apologise now after ruining their moment? After tainting their relationship red? Would she even have the chance to mend what she’s broken when she’s betrayed the trust between them?

“Hey,” Matt calls, holding her chin up gently “I've never cheated on you. There was never anyone else and there will never be. There’s only you, just you, and no one else.”

“I’m sorry,” she cries “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s just a misunderstanding,” he says with a chuckle, pulling her for a hug and rubbing her back “It’s okay, Baby. It’s my fault for being too occupied too, I’m sorry.”

“No, you don’t get to apologise, okay? It’s only going to make me feel worse,” she sobs in his embrace “I should’ve known better. I should’ve trusted you or at the very least asked about Gwyneth, before jumping into conclusions.”

“Well, honestly, if you asked me about her, I wouldn’t have known what to say either. I’m not the best of a liar in front of you,” he answers, letting out a sigh “That morning I knew your heart was beating erratically but I was too scared to ask because I didn’t want you to ask about her. I didn’t have the answers to give without spoiling the surprise.”

She let go of the hug, wiping her tears while his hands still rested on her waist, “I’m sorry I ruined the surprise.”

“It doesn’t really matter. What matters is your answer,” Matt says with a nervous smile, letting go of his hold and kneeling in front of her now “I’m just gonna keep it short before either of us falls into another misunderstanding,” he says before the two of them break into a short laughter “Will you marry me?”

Her grin spreads, nodding as she kneels to his level, “Yes, yes, of course.”

Matt beams as he slips the ring on her finger. A satisfied exhale came out of him. Like he's just successfully removed mountains from his own shoulders. He pulls her for a kiss, hands cupping on cheeks gently, “I love you.”

“I love you, Matt Murdock,” she answers, her hand combing the strands of his hair with her fingers “You’re really a wreck without me, huh?”

He lets out a sigh, stealing another kiss through their laughter, “You have no idea.”

[miriamladyvoid]

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My ask: Hello I liked your Grim headcanons so I would like to request platonic solace headcanons with the freshman gang + Grim. In the hypothetical scenario where Yuu/MC will never be able to return home and therefore Yuu will look depressed and tired after hearing the news ( i miss my boys)

Homesick

ft: Ace, Deuce, Epel, Jack, Sebek

Ace Trappola

⤷Ace finds out about the situation from the other first years, who’d already tried (and somewhat succeeded) in lightening the mood.

⤷So he didn’t have the pleasure of meeting you while it was the worst- however, when Ace went to offer his condolences the air was thick enough to cut with a knife.

⤷Now Ace didn’t WANT to attempt to cheer you up when the news was just broken, he’s decently self aware and knows his comfort and help comes off as brash or rude sometimes.

⤷However, it’s not like he’s heartless (if almost the exact opposite- he cares very deeply for someone once they become friends, and it’s a loyalty not easily broken).

⤷So, despite the tension and your obvious emotionally fragile demeanor, Ace took a leap of faith and sat down next to you.

⤷He starts off just saying random things, talking for the sake of ridding the silence, however it eventually drifts to family.

⤷He apologizes, like it was somehow his fault there was no way to return back to your world, and offers you to stay over at his place during the breaks.

⤷Then he starts joking about how you’ll fit in, and how his dad will love you (all the while making teasing remarks towards his brother).

⤷And at the very end, when both your butts are numb from sitting on the cold hard hallway floor, Ace pats you on the back and congratulates you on making it so far.

Deuce Spade

⤷The first one to find you, wholly unprepared and slightly panicking at the pure exhaustion apparent in your features.

⤷Deuce (after a moments pause) jumps into action by crowding around you and looking for any sign of what possibly could have happened- there’s no extra textbooks or assignments in your bag, nobody in the vicinity that could’ve harassed you, and you seem to be all in one piece.

⤷Stops and stares at you before asking just what happened, and panics even more when your expression turns even more heartbroken at his words.

⤷Tells you to wait for a moment, and runs off to a vending machine to grab a warm drink and some tissues in case you cry.

⤷When he returns, Deuce once again presses the topic of what happened, and once you finish the story, Deuce’s heart is broken.

⤷He loves his mom and grandma so much, and can’t imagine knowing there’d be no way to ever see them again- it isn’t pity on his part, more of an extreme empathy.

⤷Tries his best to hug you while there’s still a hot drink in your hands, but as awkward as the embrace is, it’s honest and Deuce tries to convey everything he doesn’t have the words for through it.

⤷When the two of you have to go back to classes, he makes sure to tell some of the others to be more gentle than usual- but doesn’t budge on the reason or story.

⤷It’s your feelings and your tale to tell, all in due time and at your own pace the others can find out.

Epel Felmier

⤷Sees you during lunch, after the text that had been sent out. Epel was almost overly cautious and walked on eggshells about every topic before Deuce caught his eye and started shaking his head.

⤷Relaxed a bit and didn’t pry on the subject- he figured you’d approach it on your own if you wanted his condolences or advice (though Epel knows he’s a bit ill suited for legitimate life instruction).

⤷He offers some food from his lunchbox (Pomefiore is on a group diet again, but Vil at least uses incredibly high quality ingredients), and carves an apple into the shape of something you like- be it an animal or object.

⤷Once everyone joins the table (minus Ace who had basketball), and you’re a bit more distracted, Epel starts to pick up on smaller things that Deuce was doing- steering the conversation one way or the other, avoiding talking about the upcoming break where everyone would get to see their family… oh yeah wasn’t Crowley trying to find a way back- oh.

⤷Pauses in the middle of chewing, and stares at you for a few seconds before the full situation sinks in.

⤷Epel is extremely close with his family (or community in general), so similar to Deuce he’s shocked by his own revelation- and immediately starts looking up possible things he can do to make you feel better.

⤷All of Epels sentiments are incredibly corny- flowers and warm tea, or choosing films with similar scenery to your hometown in hopes to bring some feeling of comfort.

⤷Tries his hardest to support you without you needing to tell him.

Jack Howl

⤷Notices the smaller things, and pieces together what happened like Epel, however Jack believes that talking through your problems can help process them (so long as it’s not him doing the talking).

⤷Lots of questions, though not all at once. What happened? How do you feel- specifically. Does your body feel hollow, or heavy… or a bit of an odd mix between the two?

⤷Asks you how you want to move forward with things- do you want to keep looking for ways back? Or would you prefer to “accept your fate” and start making more permanent roots in Twisted Wonderland (social security, school aptitude tests, bank accounts… etc).

⤷He’s very much a rock to lean on- seemingly forever calm (if a bit miffed due to the wet spots due to tears now in his leather Savanaclaw jacket).

⤷Does small things that you have to look twice at to notice the real value of, on a particularly rough day he prepares some food that tastes similar to a favorite dish (even if the ingredients are different), or takes you to dumb tourist traps on the island so it feels more like a fun trip than a prison, makes a playlist with songs similar to those that he had you sing from your world.

⤷He offers to take you on break with him, explaining that his large family will leave no room to be bored- which therefore means really no time to be homesick or sad.

⤷On reflex gets you a nightlight because it’s one of his little sisters comfort items, and decides to get a matching one. That way you know you’re not alone in this world, even during the sad hours of nighttime.

Sebek Zigvolt

⤷Loudly, and very ungracefully asks why you’re acting so solemn when today marks the anniversary to the Great Lord Malleus’ club founding- as brash and socially dense as he may be, three people giving various negative hand gestures towards him after that statement would make anyone stop what they’re doing- and he did stop, mouth agape in pure bewilderment.

⤷Quiets down and watches as three of the other first years glance over your direction, as your face seems to get even more drained and exhausted by the sheer amount of energy surrounding you.

⤷Starts awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other- he’s well aware of the effect his comment made and is slightly embarrassed that his first response to seeing a friend stressed out and tired was to… “invalidate their personal feelings in exchange for validating his own beliefs” as Master Lilia had said.

⤷Epel eventually gets sick of his demeanor and pulls him aside to explain the situation, and ask him to please help because they can’t make such a massive problem go away on their own.

⤷Sebek puffs out his chest at this new responsibility and decides the best course of action would be to explain why the Valley of Thorns is so wonderful.

⤷Slowly begins asking questions about your own home. The Valley has the highest concentration of Fae in the entire world- what are fae like where you’re from? What’s the food like? What spices, animal products, materials are different from what you’ve seen here.

⤷Accidentally makes mental notes of the descriptions you provide of the objects- and finds himself looking for the closest thing to it Twisted Wonderland has to offer.

The original publication and writing belongs to @spindle-spun-writings (Post recovered) 01/01/23

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Banners created by miriamladyvoid© Feel free to use; please, reblog, and credit banners.

Language of the flowers of each Banner:

First Banner: Faded Dianthus: I depart from you. Second Banner: Elder Blossom: Compassion. Third Banner: Harebell: Regret.

[crypticsketchpad]

uhhhhhhhhhh emotion ocs. bcuz why not. going back to my cringe ship kid roots /lh

first is Excitement (she/her; Joy x Anxiety)! as her name suggests, she is very energetic and enthusiastic, always looking forward to the future and all the fun things it will bring.

hyperactive, overly excitable, and driven by adrenaline; will often act without thinking

anxiety is typically the one to reel her in and keep her in check

loves theme parks, thrill rides, field trips, and just generally getting to go out and have fun

i think her voiceclaim would be like. kristen schaal or something lmao. might change that but i think it fits

these guys are less developed but i like them so i'm sharing them anyways! here's Paranoia (he/they; Fear x Anxiety) and Restlessness (he/they; Ennui x Fear).

Paranoia specifically represents the feeling you get after watching a scary movie and beginning to think there's a monster in your house, leading you to check behind every door for things lurking and whatnot. (or maybe that's just a me thing..? idk SGDSKHSLKLSDH)

mouth can open VERY wide. gator boy

is it hair or antennae? the world may never know. theyre basically like what Fear has going on with his singular hair(?) strand

very jumpy and jittery, often has trouble sleeping; will most likely scream if disturbed in literally any situation

specializes in worst-case-scenario projections, which often turn out to be on the more outlandish end

transmasc!! hell yeah

Restlessness is physically incapable of sleeping, which tends to cause problems for the rest of the mind when he's in charge of the console. they tend to take over on days when Ennui, Fear, or Anxiety are the most active emotions.

paces a lot; leaves trails of glowing footsteps wherever he walks that get brighter the more he walks in one place (they do fade away eventually)

one of the tallest emotions, around Embarrassment's height; has a habit of constantly tilting their head back when standing, so their nose makes them even taller

hair coils and uncoils passively as if it has a mind of its own; will coil up tightly when he's stressed, and mostly straighten out when calm (a rare occasion)

Paranoia 🤝 Restlessness = the insomnia brothers

also transmasc. we love to see it

*you might already have seen Restlessness in this post by @ronniesbizzareblog!! go check it out it has great IO artwork

[starlitmelanin]

ᡣ𐭩ྀི birthday blues; t.alexander-arnold

pairing - trent x varsity!fem!reader

word count - 2.9k

warnings - none

summary - you’re stressed out about trent’s birthday, because what on earth do you get a man who already has everything?

it's not like you can just roll up with a box of chocolates and call it a day. this man's used to the best of the best, and while he's never made you feel like you weren't enough or didn't fit into his world, the reality is you're still a varsity student, still trying to stretch your monthly budget to cover textbooks, takeout, and the occasional night out with your girls.

and trent? well, trent can have anything he wants, whenever he wants. you've watched him casually browse designer websites like he's scrolling through twitter, picking out shoes that cost more than your rent with a kind of nonchalance that makes your head spin.

so, no, a simple birthday card from the campus bookstore isn't going to cut it. this is your first birthday together as a couple — you've got to make it special.

but how?

like, you've been lying in bed for hours now, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through shopping websites, pinterest, and even resorting to typing "what to get your rich boyfriend for his birthday" into google. nothing is helping. in fact, everything's making it worse. because even though you've got a list of ideas in your notes app, none of them seem to match up to the weight of what you feel this gift should be.

"babe, you don't have to go all out," trent had said during a conversation you had with him earlier in the week, flashing you that pretty smile that somehow makes everything feel like it'll be fine. "whatever you get me, i'm gonna love it. i'm just happy to spend the day with you."

but that's the thing, though. you want to go all out. he deserves it. even if he's not asking for it, you know he would never say anything if you just showed up with something basic—but it would eat away at you. you'd remember it every year.

so, yeah, no pressure or anything. just your sanity slowly slipping away as the days inch closer to his birthday and you still have no clue what to do.

your friends have been no help either. a bunch of suggestions that are either way too expensive or feel way too impersonal. "just get him something sentimental," one of them had said, but you're not even sure what counts as sentimental when you've only been dating for a few months.

like, are you supposed to pull some dramatic pinterest diy project out of nowhere? is that your lane now? because you're not crafty. you're not about to break out the arts and crafts just to end up frustrated and glue-stained.

you're definitely overthinking this, and you know it, but you can't stop. you keep picturing the day itself. like, what if you get him something and he likes it but doesn't love it? what if he's too polite to say it but deep down, he's thinking, "wow, she really couldn't put more effort into this?"

it doesn't help that every time you bring up his birthday, trent just brushes it off like it's no big deal. "it's just another day," he says, shrugging, but you know it's more than that. his birthday is a big deal to you because he's a big deal to you.

you can't let this flop.

days are passing by faster than you'd like, and you still haven't made any progress. now it's the weekend before his birthday, and you're sitting on the floor of your apartment, surrounded by discarded ideas. you've gone from designer cologne (too basic) to a surprise trip (too expensive) to planning a cute dinner night in (too... ordinary?).

it's gotten to the point where you're spiralling. full-on stress mode. you're overthinking everything, imagining how disappointed he might be, how awkward the whole thing could feel, and for what? he hasn't said anything that makes you think he's expecting something grand, but it's like your brain is running on a loop, replaying worst-case scenarios.

you're deep in your thoughts when your phone buzzes. it's trent. a simple text.

trent: wanna come over?

you sigh, conflicted. on one hand, you'd love to see him and spend the day wrapped up in each other like you usually do, but on the other hand, you feel like you should be using every spare second to figure this gift thing out. but it's trent, and maybe seeing him will take your mind off the stress for a bit. so, you grab your keys and head out.

when you get to his place, trent's already waiting for you at the door, looking casual as ever in sweats and a hoodie. he greets you with a grin that immediately makes some of the tension in your shoulders ease up. you can't help but smile back, even though the stress is still simmering in the back of your mind.

he pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head as he mumbles, "missed you."

"you saw me yesterday," you laugh softly, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. it's the same cologne you thought about getting him for his birthday, but now that you're here with him, it feels too safe, too... expected.

"still missed you," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to look at you. "you okay?"

God, how does he always know?

"yeah," you lie, but it's not convincing. trent raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he doesn't press. instead, he just leads you inside, hand slipping into yours like it always does.

you spend the afternoon curled up on the couch, watching some random show neither of you are really paying attention to. trent's arm is draped over your shoulders, his fingers occasionally brushing against your arm, but your mind keeps drifting. keeps thinking about the damn gift.

it's not until he asks, "you sure you're alright?" that you realise you've been quiet for too long.

you glance up at him, debating whether or not to just tell him. you don't want to admit how stressed you've been about something that probably seems insignificant to him. but trent's looking at you with that soft, patient expression, and before you know it, the words are tumbling out.

"it's just... your birthday," you mumble, picking at the hem of your shirt, avoiding his gaze. "i wanna get you something special, but i don't know what to get you. you have everything already."

there's a pause, and for a moment, you worry you've said too much. but then you hear him laugh. not in a mean way, but in that gentle, amused way he does when you've overcomplicated something in your head.

"babe," he says softly, cupping your chin and turning your face so you're looking at him. "you don't have to stress over that. i don't need anything fancy or expensive. i just wanna spend time with you."

you feel your chest tighten a little because, logically, you know he's right. but still... it's his first birthday with you. it feels like it should be more.

"i know," you mumble, eyes flicking away from his. "but i just want it to be perfect."

"it will be," he promises, leaning down to steal a kiss. "because you'll be there."

and maybe that's all that matters, but still...

—

the next couple of days are a blur.

classes, assignments, and late-night scrolling sessions trying to figure out the perfect present. you've moved past the point of practicality. now, you're grasping at straws. googling things like "unique gifts for the man who has everything" and getting absolutely nowhere. your notes app is full of crossed-out ideas, your stress level rising with each passing day.

by the time thursday rolls around, you're a full-on wreck. trent's birthday is next monday, and the thought of showing up with something underwhelming—or worse, empty-handed—has you on edge. you've always been the type to put pressure on yourself, to want everything to be just right, especially when it comes to people you care about. and trent? well, trent's at the top of that list now, no question.

it randomly hits you at 2:19 in the morning, that spark of inspiration you were so desperate for, the puzzle pieces of your chaotic brain finally starting to click into place. and as you brush your teeth before class a few hours later, you replay the idea in your mind.

you obviously still need to work out the details, but at least you have direction now. no more over-the-top ideas. nothing that screams, "i tried too hard." instead, you're going for something more personal, something that shows trent how much you've been paying attention to the small things.

because, really, that's what this relationship has been about for you—finding beauty in the details. sure, trent's life is loud and flashy, but what you've learned in the past few months is that it's the quiet moments, the ones where it's just the two of you, that really matter.

like the nights where you read him your biochem thesis because you want a second opinion (and, bless him, he never understands a thing). or the mornings where you wake up tangled in his sheets, 15 minutes late for whatever morning class you have. or the late-night talks where he opens up in ways you know he doesn't do with most people.

that's what you want to capture. that's what his birthday should reflect.

the rest of the week passes in a blur, a whirlwind of classes, your part-time job, and late-night planning sessions. every free moment you get, you're jotting down notes, sketching ideas, making phone calls, and somehow managing to keep all of this hidden from trent. it's not easy—he's nosy as hell, always asking what you're up to, but you've gotten good at playing it off, keeping him in the dark just enough to maintain the element of surprise.

you've already set everything in motion. well, mostly. there are still a few loose ends to tie up, but it's all coming together in a way that feels right.

on the morning of his birthday, you both settle on a time that works—right after your last class and after he's done with training. by the time he gets to your place that evening, you're all giddy, eyes beaming as you open the door for him.

and he's instantly on you, arms smoothly slipping around your waist, pulling you to him just as you close the door. he leans down, pressing his lips to your exposed shoulder — gentle, lingering kisses, his breath warm against your skin. "hi, baby."

"trent..." you murmur, trying to sound disapproving because you can almost guess where this is going, but failing miserably. it comes out softer than you intended, more like an invitation than a scolding.

he hums against your skin, his lips brushing the curve of your neck now, his hands tightening just a bit on your waist, pressing your back to his front. "hmm?"

his lips move to your jawline next, and you reach back with one hand, tangling your fingers in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. he takes the hint, pressing more kisses along the side of your face now, trailing up to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

"so pretty," trent turns you around slowly, his hands still on your waist, guiding you until you're facing him. his eyes are dark, a little playful, but there's something else there too—something softer, deeper.

you barely have time to register that look before his lips are on yours, soft and sweet. it's not hurried or frantic, but there's an urgency to it, and you kiss him back just as passionately, your hands clutching his shirt, your body leaning into his. it's instinctual now, the way your whole being responds to him.

when you finally pull back, both of you breathing a little heavier, trent rests his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. there's a lazy smile on his lips, the kind that makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.

"wait, you're distracting me," you laugh quietly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "i have a surprise for you."

he smiles, his lips brushing against your forehead now. "yeah?"

you nod, grinning as you lead him over to the living room, where you've set everything up. on the coffee table, there's a small collection of items: a few handwritten letters, a disposable camera, and a small, leather-bound journal.

trent raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the table, clearly intrigued but not sure what to expect.

"so, i know you don't need anything," you start, your voice suddenly a little shaky as you sit down beside him. "and i didn't wanna get you something you could just buy yourself. so... i thought about what would mean the most to you. and, well... this is what i came up with."

you hand him the journal first, feeling a knot of nerves tighten in your stomach as he unties the string and carefully opens it.

the pages are filled with handwritten notes, photos, and little mementos from your time together so far. it's not just a scrapbook or a diary; it's a love letter. every page is a piece of your relationship — the silly inside jokes, the photos of the two of you at your favourite café, the pressed flowers from the first bouquet he ever gave you, the ticket stubs from the movie you saw on your second date. it's a collection of memories, a reminder of how far you've come in such a short time.

it's quiet for a while, the only sound being the soft rustle of paper as he turns the pages. you watch him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face is unreadable.

finally, he reaches the last page—a note you wrote, a few simple words; happy birthday, trent. thank you for being you. thank you for seeing me. i love you.

he's quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning the words, thumb tracing over the ink. when he finally looks up, there's this... softness in his eyes, a depth of emotion you don't always see from him.

"this is perfect," he sets the journal aside and pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple. "thank you, baby."

you feel a wave of relief wash over you, but you're not done yet. next, you hand him the disposable camera.

"i know you're used to having a million pictures taken of you all the time, but... i thought it might be nice to have something just for us. we can take pictures whenever, wherever. and at the end of the roll, we'll get them developed and see what moments we've captured."

trent turns the camera over in his hands, a warm, appreciative smile gracing his lips. "this is... yeah, this is really thoughtful. i didn't expect this."

and finally, you hand him the letters. "these are from the people closest to you. i asked them to write you something personal, something that shows how much you mean to them."

he looks up at you, his eyes soft, a mix of gratitude and something deeper reflecting in them. "you really went all out for this, didn't you?"

you shrug, feeling a little shy now that everything's out in the open. "i just wanted you to feel appreciated. i didn't want to get you something that didn't mean anything."

trent's quiet for a moment, just looking at you, and then he sets everything aside and pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

"you're amazing," he says, his voice all soft and thick with emotion. "seriously. this is the best gift i've ever had."

you feel the tension drain from your body as you bury your face in his chest, a smile spreading across your lips because, yeah. all the stress, all the overthinking, it was worth it.

"i love you," trent pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek as he looks down at you. "more than i even know how to say."

your heart stutters at that. you've both danced around the words for a while now, neither of you wanting to rush into saying them, but hearing him say it now, in this moment, feels right.

"i love you too," you whisper, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you pull him closer, your lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss.

when you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours again, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. "best birthday i've had," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your cheek, and you laugh softly, your heart full.

"i'm glad," you say, smiling as you snuggle closer to him, his arms wrapping around you like a safety net. "but it's not over yet."

he raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "oh? what else do you have planned?"

you grin, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze. "i figured we'd spend the rest of the night doing... whatever you want."

trent chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "whatever i want, huh?"

"yep," you nod, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. "you're the birthday boy, after all."

"careful," he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "i might hold you to that."

and he does hold you to it.

all night long.

[iimplicitt]

SELFISH | LN4

pairings: lando norris x fem! reader

request!

summary: Lando and you can’t seem to agree on whether or not to go public with your relationship, but after two years together you’re getting tired of it. His stress from the championship isn’t exactly making it easy to have a conversation with him, in fact it usually ends up in a fight… among other things.

warnings; smut 18+, unprotected sex (stay safe), slapping/hitting, choking, jealousy, toxic! lando, secret relationship, angry sex, make up sex, sprinkle of fluff, and max being baby girl

wc: 3.4k

You were a natural flirt, according to many people who knew you. Personally, you thought you were just being nice. Just because you smiled at a guy or gave him a hug, that didn’t mean you wanted to get into his pants.

You preferred the word charming. Charismatic, perhaps. However, your boyfriend wasn’t a fan. Really, what guy would be? Especially when the men you were surrounded by were for the most part attractive, wealthy race car drivers.

You and Lando had gotten into yet another fight. It seemed like a nightly occurrence these days. You wanted to go public with the relationship and he didn’t. For a while you didn’t mind. After two years together though, sneaking around was more and more of a chore. You knew you could handle it, and the pair of you had already been through hell together. So why keep hiding? You didn’t get it and he could never give you a clear answer that seemed justifiable.

Any response he did give was from a place of pure possession and jealousy. He wanted you all to himself. And for some reason he couldn’t get it through his head that even when the world did know about your relationship, he would still be the only man for you.

Besides, you weren’t necessarily the type of woman men came flocking to in DM’s. Sure, once you did go public there would be more media attention but you knew you could handle it. In the worst case scenario, you’d just delete whatever app and move on with your life.

For some reason, Lando didn’t think it was that simple. It never was with him. When you were out, any man who looked in your direction always got a death glare from the British driver. It was getting a little ridiculous. Lando wasn’t controlling by any means, but it felt like you couldn’t go anywhere without him thinking some random guy would hit on you.

Even if that did end up happening, so what? You never gave them the time of day anyway so you didn’t see why it mattered.

Regardless, as you walked into the paddock that morning, annoyance at him still had all of your nerves in a tight bunch. He had left the hotel at an ungodly hour without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t think he had to apologize for blowing everything out of proportion and you were too stubborn to forgive and forget.

Waving hello with a tight smile as you passed people, you came to a halt in front of Red Bull as someone called your name.

Arching a brow, it took you a moment before you realised it was Max who was waving an arm at you. An easy smile easily replaced your tense one, you and the Dutch man have always gotten along well.

“Good morning,” you greeted as he approached you with two cups of coffee.

Max smiled at you warmly, his cheeks and nose slightly red from the Spanish sun. He set down the coffees and gave you a hug, something you didn’t even have to think about. It was a common form of a hello between the two of you, though it hadn’t happened in awhile.

Not only with how hectic the season has been, but Lando had had a stick up his ass about your friendship with the Red Bull driver. You knew they were rivals in the championship, but throwing away a many years long friendship over a trophy seemed ridiculous in your mind.

He smelt like apples and cinnamon and the scent was comforting and new, knowing he had probably just used whatever was in the hotel bathroom to shower.

“You ready for today?” You asked, pulling your head back to look up at him with your arms still wrapped around each other.

Max shrugged, “as long as I get a good start I’m not all that worried.”

You hummed. Lando was on pole, something he was both excited but a bit anxious about considering Max was starting second.

“Coffee?” He asked, stepping back to grab the two cups he had been holding a minute ago. “I saw you coming so I made it to your liking.”

You couldn’t help but smile again. Despite his reputation of being aggressive on track, off of it he tended to be an absolute sweetheart. “Thank you, Max.”

“Anything for my favorite commentator.” He grinned at you and ruffled your hair, laughing at the annoyed scowl on your face as you tried to fix the mess he made. “Uh oh,” his tone suddenly turned a bit weary.

Your brows furrowed and followed his gaze, catching sight of a very unhappy Lando leaning in the doorway with his arms crossed.

Max leaned down to whisper in your ear while still looking at the McLaren driver. “Did you write a bad piece on him or what? He looks like he wants to kill someone.”

You looked back over your shoulder, Lando’s eyes narrowed and jaw clenched at the proximity of Max to you. You sighed and took a sip of the coffee, like always Max made it perfectly. “I interviewed him and I guess I struck a nerve.” The lie slipped out easily, just like they had the past two years when people asked questions about you and Lando.

Max rested a hand on your elbow, meeting your eyes with a look of concern that wasn’t needed but it was appreciated nonetheless. “Want me to scare him off?”

You laughed, which was probably a mistake because you could physically feel the daggers your boyfriend was throwing at you. Shaking your head, you patted Max on the arm. “I’ll be fine, I’m sure you’ll do great today. I’ll see you later.”

You turned and faced Lando, raising a challenging brow at him and shooting a silent what the fuck is wrong with you? at him.

He clenched his jaw before turning, his steps purposeful as he walked towards what you assumed was his driver's room. You rolled your eyes, knowing you were about to walk into another argument. The pettier part of yourself was itching for one, but you knew a fight before a race was the last thing he needed.

With a bit of foresight, you probably would’ve chosen differently. But at the moment you were mad and thought you were doing the wisest thing for both of you.

So you turned left to go to the commentators box, ditching your boyfriend and turning off your phone. He needed a clear mind for the race and you needed a clear mind to give at least a shred of decent commentary.

Your stomach had dropped the moment Max had overtaken Lando’s lead and it didn’t pick back up when the checkered flag waved over the Red Bull car. It didn’t pick itself back up when your boyfriend followed after him about two seconds later, the papaya orange glowing almost angrily in the Spanish sun. It didn’t pick back up as you watched his post-race interview. It didn’t pick back up when you watched him step onto the podium. It didn’t even budge when he sprayed the champagne and smiled for photos.

He was furious. You could tell. No one else probably would besides Oscar. Lando’s teammate was remarkably good at reading people and was one of the only few people who knew you and Lando were dating. Your suspicions were only confirmed later on when a team photo was taken, Oscar leaning over to quietly ask if he was alright and Lando waved him off casually, but his smile was tight for the camera.

Your stomach fell further into the pits of hell as you neared his driver's room. You had waited a little while till the crowd died down, not wanting to blow your cover. Despite everything, when you two did go public you wanted it to be on terms you both agreed on.

You calmed your breath, preparing yourself to get yelled at when you inserted the key he had given you and popped the door open. The room was empty but you heard the shower cut off just as you shut the door softly behind you.

The room was neat, his clothes folded up and put away, ready to be on the road again. You paced for a moment, not quite sure what to do with yourself as you heard Lando shuffling about in the bathroom. You eyed his trophy warily, not sure if congratulating him was a good idea tonight.

The bathroom door opened and you spun, watching as Lando stopped abruptly at the sight of you. One hand clutching at the towel that was hanging loose at his hips and you couldn’t help it as you watched water droplets fall from his curly hair and drip down his tanned chest.

“About fucking time,” he muttered before moving again, walking right up to you and making you feel cornered all the sudden. “Where the fuck have you been? Off hugging Max, hm? Congratulating him on his win?”

You clenched your jaw, doing your best not to roll your eyes. “I have a job, you know. I couldn’t just prance up to you after the race.” You then gasped dramatically. “Oh wait, I could. Except somebody wants to keep me locked up in their bedroom.”

Lando completely ignored your last statement. “What the hell were you doing hugging him this morning?”

You balked at him. “He’s one of my best mates? And from what I can recall, you two are also friends. What difference does it make with me?” You knew what the answer was, you just wanted him to admit it. To say it out loud. Maybe you were bating him, maybe you were the problem. But at the moment you didn’t care.

“I told you not to fucking talk to him—“

“I can talk to whoever I want! Do you hear yourself?”

“But Max of all people? Really? You know how stressed I am about the championship and you go and fucking hug him and he makes you coffee? What, do you want to fuck him or something to piss me off—“

Lando’s words cut off as his head snapped to the side, rolling his jaw and his cheek slowly turned red.

Your eyes widened as your hand began to sting, only then realising you had just slapped him across the face. You even winced a little bit on his behalf because you were wearing rings. Your hands covered your mouth, a string of apologies leaving your lips.

“Oh my god, Lando I am so—“

You barely had time to blink before he took a step forward, hand grabbing your jaw harshly as he forced your eyes up to meet his. He didn’t look himself, his eyes glazed over and jaw clenched, silently seething as he looked at you but not quite. Like he was seeing a ghost, perhaps.

It was a little frightening and your eyes were probably wider than the moon. He shouldn’t have said any of those things, they were hurtful. But you also shouldn’t have hit him.

“Darling,” you said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Lando a blinked a few times, finally looking at you properly. As if the wave of anger finally passed over him and his hold on your jaw loosened, his hand falling to softly cup your neck. His eyes closed, his thick lashes brushing the top of his cheekbones before he let his head fall forward. His forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady his breathing.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. He then lifted his head, cradling your face in his hands and pressing a kiss to your forehead, whispering a string of more apologies as he went.

You two always ended up in this dance. In the moment you never minded, and no, you never regretted it. But fucking after a fight never solved anything in the long run.

Despite this trail of rational thinking, you didn’t protest as he backed you into the wall. His hands dancing up your shirt and a groan leaving him when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra.

There was a voice in the back of your mind telling you to put an end to this and talk, but when his mouth latched onto the space beneath your jaw, a moan fell from your lips instead. Your hands buried themselves in his damp hair, tugging lightly and he let out a delicious sound as he left wet and hot open mouth kisses along your throat.

His hands reached down, quickly finding the hem of your skirt and hiking it up around your waist. Not a moment later you gasped into his mouth at the feeling of his fingers tugging your underwear to the side, the cool air of the room hitting your sensitive pussy which was now exposed.

You barley registered the sound of Lando’s towel hitting the floor before you felt his hands grip the back of your thighs, picking you and turning towards the bed. He lowered you on it, the movement felt oddly graceful but you didn’t have time to think or even prepare yourself before Lando had your legs spread and he sank his cock into your cunt, bottoming out and it was painful and electric and amazing.

You didn’t have time to gasp out his name before he pulled out and snapped his hips back into you, a scream ripping up your throat at the brutal pace of it. You felt light headed, each of your nerves in a daze as pleasure wreaked havoc on your body. You were so out of it, in delirium that you hadn’t even registered Lando slapped you until you heard the echo of it bounce around the room.

Your cheek felt warm, the heat of it a slight tingle and it was strange and fucked up but you clenched around his cock harder, if even possible.

At the sensation, Lando’s head fell into the crook of your neck and he shuddered. “Fuck, you liked that didn’t you?” His breath was hot against your ear and you whimpered as his hand snaked up to your throat and applied pressure, choking you. “You like being used.”

He laughed and pulled back, the grin on his face sharp and devastatingly handsome.

You couldn’t get enough of him. He looked heavily above you, dominating you in ways you never thought you’d actually find attractive. But there you were, being choked out and slapped around and on the verge of cumming.

His other hand danced down your body, feather light and making you go mad. When his fingers landed on your clit and began rubbing tight circles into it, your eyes practically rolled into the back of your head and you choked on your own moans.

“I’m— I’m gonna—“ you struggled to get the words out, choking on them and hot tears began to leak from your eyes. Leaving ruddy trails of mascara in their wake and you were sure you looked like a mess.

Not that Lando cared, in fact, he seemed to love it. He was looking at you as if you had just offered him a slice of heaven. Like he worshiped you. Like he would call out your name even beyond the grave.

“Are you going to come for me, baby?”

You tried your best to nod but you could barely function with the way the crash of pleasure was building up in your body, it was almost torturous at this moment.

Lando’s pace got even more brutal if possible as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours as he thrusted his cock deeper and harder into your cunt. “You’re so fucking pretty like this,” he ground out as he kissed away your tears. “Come for me, darling.”

As if his words were some magical spell, you crashed over the edge almost violently. Your back arching, his name a scream that was ripped right from your lungs. Barely a second passed before he yanked your hips back down onto him and you felt his cock twitch as he came inside you.

He collapsed on top of you, both your bodies covered in sweat and panting. It was comforting nonetheless, being so close to him.

Lando’s arms wrapped around you as he rolled you both to the side, peppering kisses along your neck and shoulder. Being so gentle it made your head spin.

Dammit, you were about to cry for a whole other list of reasons, and despite the mind blowing make up sex part of you still wanted to stay mad at him.

The timing was awful, but this had to be fixed now. Or else it would turn into another fight eventually.

You turned and gently took hold of his wrists, meeting his eyes and you took a moment to collect yourself before you asked the question that always started problems.

“Why don’t you want anyone to know about us?” Before he could open his mouth, you kept talking. “I’m not going anywhere, Lando. Not now, not ever. And I can take whatever the media throws at me, I already do on a daily basis. That’s the life of a journalist. Not only that, I’m a grown woman. I can handle myself, and if I ever do need help I know I can count on you to be there for me.”

Lando let out a long breath, looking at you intently before he lifted a hand and brushed his thumb along your cheekbone. “What if I can’t handle it? I won’t be able to hold my tongue or my temper if anyone says something about you. About us being together.”

“You can, and you will.” You looked at him pointedly. “You hold your temper all the time, you’re better at it than you think when it comes to racing—“

“When it comes to racing, yes. But when it comes to you, that is a line I don’t want people crossing.”

You bit your lip, looking at him. You appreciated his concern, you really did. But you were tired of the secrets and lies. “So what? I’m just going to be a hidden part of you for the rest of your life? You’re just going to be a hidden part of mine? I don’t want to live like that, Lando.” You brushed the damp curls back from his eyes, taking in the stunning green of them and you fell in love all over again.

You fueled purpose into each of your words. “Let me love you loudly. I’m not saying we rub it in everyone’s faces, we can still have our own privacy but I don’t want to be this little secret you carry around anymore.”

He let out a heavy breath, hands holding you to him tightly. “Baby…”

“I can’t keep hiding. And I can’t keep lying to everyone. And I don’t want to ghost all my guy friends because you get jealous. Jealous for absolutely no reason. Max and I are friends. That’s it. That’s all it will ever be.” You then leaned forward and kissed him. His chapped lips rough against your as he met your urgency.

“You’re it for me, Lando. There was never going to be anyone else.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a calming breath before looking at you again, his eyes glowing and his lips pulled up slightly, revealing his dimples.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nodded, “Okay.” He pulled you in for another kiss and muttered those three words that drove you mad into your mouth.

landonorris and youruser

liked by carlossainz55, youruser, oscarpiastri and 820,027 others

landonorris happier than ever, happy three years baby

*tap to load more comments*

userone: my jaw fell to the center of the earth WHAT

usertwo: talk about a hard launch hello???

oscarpiastri: finally jesus

| userthree: YOU KNEW???

userfour: IM SORRY THREE YEARS??? ISNT THAT ONE OF THE F1 COMMENTATORS

| userfive: YOURE SO RIGHT IT IS HER

youruser: i love you

| landonorris: i love you

| usersix: im losing my mind

| carlossainz55: i’m losing my appetite

tag list: @theonottsbxtch @fortunapre @hearts4acemyluv

[st0rmyskies]

What Your Favorite Link Says About You

A.k.a. The Links as tarot cards/your rising sign/your blood type.

Time

You're likely an older Zelda fan. Ibuprofen has become a food group for you. Anyone who thinks OoT isn't the greatest Zelda game has you clutching your pearls and tutting. Kids these days don't know how good they have it.

You are a person to whom young people come for advice, either in your career or in life in general. You're happy to give it, especially because you love to help, but on the inside you're silently screaming, What?? Why me???

You may have trouble sleeping through the night. Even if it's not every night, there are some where you just can't turn your brain off and worries or worst-case scenarios just keep playing and replaying ad nauseaum.

You enjoy time in solitude to appreciate the beauty of nature. I bet you know how to braid a mean daisy crown.

“The flow of time is always cruel...” - Some event in your life took your innocence from you, perhaps much too early. You grew up quickly because of it.

Legend

Either you had a crush on the emo kid in high school or you were the emo kid in high school.

You might be jaded by the world, but you still have a solid work ethic and a soft heart despite it all. Even if you hide it all beneath a healthy layer of sass.

You possess a multitude of skills, not all of which are related. Anytime a friend needs a piece of clothing mended or a picture frame hung on the wall or a leak in a faucet addressed, you have the tools and the willingness to help.

Either you have a history of moving frequently when you were young, or you have a restless spirit. You may never quite feel 'at home' in any given place.

"But, verily, it be the nature of dreams to end." - You’ve suffered a meaningful loss in your life and you have a hard time opening up again because of it. 

Hyrule

You root for the underdog, or perhaps you are the underdog. Any of those "against all odds" stories just hit you square in the chest.

Somewhat quiet by nature, you do vital work behind the scenes but you aren't the type to seek out a leadership position. Leave the limelight to somebody else, please.

You might sell yourself short when it comes to your skills and abilities, but you should believe in yourself, man! You can do it!!

You have a capricious streak in you that rears its head now and again. That smile can look sharp and devilish in the right light.

"It's dangerous to go alone!" - You either already have or are destined to find 'that one person' with whom you can open up and truly be yourself. 

Twilight

I'm willing to put money on the fact that Twilight Princess was your first Zelda game.

You have a strong sense of justice and get really bent out of shape when you encounter unfairness or flaw in the system, whatever that may be. You might be considered an outsider in some way because of this.

You're the friend who scoops spiders up in a cup and sets them outside. Live and let live.

You were the 'wolf kid' in middle school. Come on, those amazing tie dye shirts? Wolf Woman? Julie of the Wolves?? Even if you kept it inside, it was there in some way.

"Your current power would disgrace the proud green of the hero's tunic you wear." - You put a lot of stock in the opinions of others and hold yourself to a higher standard because of it. Sometimes that standard isn't achievable, though, so try to be kind to yourself. 

Sky

You, my friend, have a soft heart. You're generally a happy-go-lucky sort of person. You're likely to make excuses for those who've been mean to you in the past and come out as friends on the other side.

You're crafty, or at the very least good with your hands. You're the type to give someone a handmade gift rather than go buy something for them for their birthday, a holiday, etc.

You have a strong affinity for your friends. If anything bad were to happen to them, you'd turn violent at the drop of a hat.

You may have some level of chronic illness that affects you. Although you might do things in a different way or at your own pace, though, you still come out on top.

"You fight like no man or demon I have ever known." - You have the capability for great things. World-changing sorts of things. Don't give up!

Wild

You're some flavor of neurodivergent, if I had to guess I'd say ADHD. You have 42 tabs open in your brain at any given time and you have no idea which one the music is coming from.

You're an incredibly creative person, although you might have trouble finishing tasks/works-in-progress. Doesn't mean you didn't learn something along the way!

Rigid guidelines or deadlines stress you out. You'd rather be given a goal and decide for yourself when and how to get there. When you do have a deadline, you're a bit of a procrastinator.

Sometimes you don’t get the 'right' way to do things, but you carve your own path--although sometimes it's unorthodox--and get there in your own time.

"Courage need not be remembered, for it is never forgotten." - In spite of how your life changes you, for better or for worse, you have a driving inspiration or ethic or vocation that moves you forward at all costs.

Warriors

Those who don't know you well tend to boil you down to one or two trite traits. In reality, you contain multitudes. Most people couldn't handle all of you, not that they deserve to know even part of you.

You tend to lay it on thick--be that your charm, attitude, or whatever else your social shield might be--because you're hiding some deeper secret or insecurity at your core.

You're the mom friend or the planner in your group, or perhaps you're the oldest child. You’ll pass on an authority role if and when you can, but likely you’re still involved in some supervisory capacity in a given situation. 

You kill spiders with fire. Show NO mercy.

"You dare raise the blade of evil's bane to me? So be it. Hyrule's blood will be on your hands." - You have strong convictions and you aren't afraid to take risks, major risks, to do what you know to be right.

Four

Babe, if you ain't short, you've got short person energy. You scare me a little bit tbh.

You were praised for not being a problem child growing up, or for being very responsible at a young age.

You have a vivid imagination! You may have had an imaginary friend as a child or lived in your own little world altogether. I bet your notebook pages were strewn with little doodles in school.

You're a lover of information. If you could choose between an afternoon at the library or a movie matinee, it would be the former.

"Hanging around with you fools is dangerous for my health." - You're the snark friend, aren't you.  

Wind

You are extroverted to a fault. You need the company of others to recharge that social battery. The quintessential golden retriever friend.

You had active involvement in the music and theatre department. I'd be surprised if you weren't in at least one show in high school.

Having adventures is where it's at! You're a big fan of travel, either cross-country road trips or international flights. You could happily live out of a suitcase.

You tend to make friends easily wherever you go. If everyone in this classroom/workplace/bar doesn't know your name already, they will pretty quick.

"I have been waiting for you, boy... Do not betray my expectations.” - Against all odds, you've proven yourself to be worthy of great things. Screw what fate has in store! You're the type to take your own destiny by the 'nads.

[dixonsgirl93]

The L Word

(Fun fact: The part in bold is a real life scenario that happened to me. 🙃 but this one has a happy ending, thankfully 😂)

You and Daryl had been dating for almost 6 months and a scary, new feeling had started growing inside you.

With each new day and each embrace with Daryl, this feeling grew. It was now at a point where you could think of nothing else and it was hindering your focus.

“You gotta just tell him.” Carol sighs, watching you with your head in your hands, stressing.

“I can’t.” You whimper.

“You can.” She gently pushes.

Images from the past flashed violently into your mind. That pain. You couldn’t do that again. Not now. Not with Daryl.

“You don’t get it. I said ‘I love you’ for the first time before and it went awful.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I couldn’t actually say it outright. I said, ‘what would you say if I told you I loved you?’ Like, what a wimp, right? Anyway, his response?” You sigh heavily. “‘There’d be a h/n-sized hole in that door.’ And yes, I did stay with him after that, like an idiot.”

You could hear the amusement in Carol’s voice. “You know Daryl’s not gonna say anything like that. He’s not like that. Worst case scenario he says nothing at all.”

You lift your head. “That doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

Carol places a hand on your shoulder. “Do it, or don’t. Life is even shorter now than it was. Live a little.” She turns away to carry on with whatever she was doing but her words linger, sticking to the inside of your mind. She was right, of course.

~~

Later that evening, when you and Daryl were cuddling on your sofa, talking about your respective days, Carol’s words come back to you, as do those 3 scary little words.

“Uh, Daryl.” You start, mouth going impossibly dry. Your heart pounds and you almost back out before having said anything.

“Hm?” He grunts, looking down at you under his arm.

You sigh heavily, a weight settling on your chest.

“There’s something I wanted to…uh…talk about.” Lame start, you think, still considering backing out.

“What’s that?” You can almost hear his frown but not daring to look just yet.

Here, you freeze, the words sticking to your tongue, even with Carol’s advice pushing at them. Fear, excitement, trepidation, god, it was all too much.

“I-“

“I love you too.”

You turn to look at him, the world blurring around you both.

“Wh-“

He doesn’t let you stutter out your confusion, planting a kiss on your lips, his hand on your cheek. When he pulls back he smirks at you.

“I mean it. M’not just saying it to save you from having a…a meltdown tryna speak. I’ve been feeling it too.” He leans forward again, kissing the top of your head.

“God, and you couldn’t have put me out of my misery sooner?” You gently whack him on his chest.

“Ow.” He smiles, flinches and grapples you into a hug, pulling you onto him.

“And miss out watching you get all flustered? You’re adorable.” He holds you tight and kisses all over your face.

“Asshole… I love you.” You smirk and share a kiss together, growing in intensity and heat…

“That’s my girl.”

[ithinkabouttzu]

Txt’s reaction to being your 1st boyfriend! ｡･:*˚:✧｡

a/n: I’m so sorry for such a long wait guys! I hope you all enjoy soooo much 💗💗

Genre: Fluff; romance

Warnings: Innuendos

Description: The members of txt reacting to being your FIRST ever boyfriend!

Txt Masterlist

Yeonjun: He’s fully committed on being the first, last, and best boyfriend you ever will have. He’s more than welcome to do all those cute relationship stuff with you that you’ve never gotten to do before. He’s taking you out on all kinds of dates. We’re talking aquariums, the county fair, the movies, the bowling alley, any kind of place you want to go to? name it and he’ll take you there.

Soobin: When you tell him that he’s your first ever boyfriend, he feels a good deal of pressure. All he wants to do is make you the happiest person in the world. He wants to make the best impression on you, so that in some worst case scenario where you and him don’t end up together forever, you know exactly how a guy should treat you.

Beomgyu: He gets wayyyy too excited to know that he is your first ever boyfriend. “does that mean I’m your first kiss too?” As much as he may tease, overall he takes his job VERY seriously. The first time you guys ever go out for a date, he’s there waiting for you with your favorite flowers, looking the absolute CUTEST in his sundays best. He feels extra courteous because he is your first boyfriend.

Taehyun: He feels just as nervous as you are. He hasn’t had much relationship experience, along with you so he doesn’t feel too worried about messing something up or doing something wrong by accident because you both are very new when it comes to romance. I feel like he’d be the romantic type to serenade you with lots of mushy songs he came up with last minute. This guy is a true gentleman when it comes to y’all’s relationship .

Huening Kai: He honestly feels relieved when you tell him that he is your first ever boyfriend. Like Taehyun, he is also very very new at relationship stuff and isn’t the total best with traditional dating culture, but he will always try his best for you. (He is also the sweetest gentleman you’ll ever meet who will always be waiting for you at your door with lots of flowers and gifts every time you hangout)

Thank you for staying and reading! :)) If you enjoyed, make sure to leave a like or reblog if you’d like!!