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rattlerinthewheel · 3 years

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Craftsman: Scud/Reader

Scud takes control.

For the Season of Kink bingo square: frottage/grinding.

Pandoratriestowritestuff mentioned Scud when I asked if anyone had any character ideas for the two other bingo squares I have till I complete a line. Kudos to them for inspiring this!

Aster: a type of daisy, typically purple or pink, that means "star"

Kidney Vetch: a small, yellow flower that means "wound healer"

- - -

Sometimes, you wish he’d fuck up on a job and get himself drained. Screw up one of his little projects and nick an artery, or just light himself on goddamn fire from his joints and some unfortunately-spilled gasoline. Vampires don’t even get headaches, you’re pretty sure, but he’s found a way to rewire your anatomy so that you do, when he annoys you enough. Damn craftsman’s hands, figuring that out.

But sometimes...

"Don’t worry, fruit bat. Let Papa take care of you."

Fucking... that topples the building lust, just like him, asshole. But you have to laugh.

"I was a hundred years old when you were still suckin’ on your ma’s tit, boy," you purr, but let him go on pushing you down against the nest of blankets he’s spread out on the floor of the van.

It isn’t the most comfortable place to get things done. You can still feel the grooves from the metal floor press through the layers. But it’s better than plenty of lays you’ve had, and at least better than the shit show that introduced Josh to Blade. Nobody’s getting ripped open, after all.

Josh tugs off the buttons of his shirt, deliberately slow. He starts from the bottom, the weird prick, but you figure out why as he gets to his stomach: he’s saving his neck for last.

"Yeah? Barely look older than me, baby. Got a birth certificate?"

No. Hell, you aren’t even sure how old you are, anymore. Too many lies, over the years, when you walked among the living. You’d forgotten how old you looked, when Blade came around, gave you a funny look when you threw out a number at random. It’s nice to hear thirty-three’s the ceiling, though.

Josh’s got his bandanna around his neck, too, you just realize. And that bothers you, that as much as you can hear and scent his blood, you can’t see the pulse under his jaw you like to count as it ticks. Slow, if he’s sleeping. Fast, if you’re fucking, or he’s working and lifting something heavy, or scared. There’s a zen to watching the first, a lust to the second, a giddiness to the third.

The last, when he’s scared, gives you a primal pleasure you’re always keeping to the back of your brain. When you jump down from a high perch or come out of shadows, when he isn’t expecting it. A monster you keep behind a heavy door you’re the lock and key of.

Shit, who are you kidding? You’re the monster. That part of you would crunch down onto his windpipe and vocal chords, being called fruit bat. Pick him out of your fangs without a second thought.

But it’s as Josh gets the third button popped, and that ugly striped fabric drops away to his sides to reveal the ugly pink webbing that scores further up under the still-buttoned half, that you’re reminded why you don’t let that happen.

Because you find a dark growl building, simmering, under your ribs at the marks those females left. Cunts, they were, Jenny and Christie. You were squabbling over territory and hunting grounds long before Josh stumbled, high on shrooms, into the turf war. Not his fault, of course, despite all his fuck ups. He’d put his tent stakes down at an official campsite, after all. Besides, nobody backpacking in those hills knew a damn thing about the bloody dispute going on. The aftermath, when they saw the gore, but not the cause.

Sure wasn’t in one of those brochures, but you can see it, drawing the thrill-seekers like cattle. Come see the Wandering Nomad take on the Vixens of the Steppes!

Some shit like that. You hadn’t really had a place, then, so it would fit. And Jenny and Christie (modern versions of whatever their human ones had been, too old to fit the twenty-something faces anymore) sure tricked like foxes.

"What’s so funny?"

You blink, out of remembering shredding into Jenny’s throat once Blade got the jump on them, and into the present. You suck in the warm, weed-musty air, because Josh has gotten three more buttons off. Revealed more of those shitty scars—you don’t tell him, but you can still get a whiff of those bitches’ scents, if the scar tissue’s giving him grief: aster and kidney vetch, ugh—and his gut, too.

"Nothin’," you murmur, eyeing up the rest of what he exposes.

Sprigs of dark hair, on the pale skin that isn’t torn up and flushed. He’s thirty-three, ought to have more of that by now, a man’s chest. You suppose he makes up for it with the mop of hair on his head, the scruff on his face.

You get a handful when Josh bends over, still straddling your hips, tugging at your fly. You rumble, low in your chest, as your half-hard cock’s fumbled out. Hot tucked snug in your jeans, frigid once it’s out, until it warms to the van.

You trade your fingers combing through his bangs for his hand, soft but skilled—a craftsman’s hand, you’ve learned not to doubt it—pumping you the rest of the way. His hands are cool, but warm to your cock, and the blood flushing to his palm is a damn song to your ears. Like water draining down a pipe, no, that’s his own cock getting hard. No, the blood going to his palms is a gentle wash, a tide, a wave that laps up a beach.

"Like that, baby," you churr, burrowing your fingers deeper in his hair. To the back, where it’s longer, and you hear Josh’s own hum shudder through your fingers.

It’s a signal to go on, so he does. You growl, not a threat, just irritated, pleasure unwrapping as he pulls his hand off your rock hard shaft to undo his own fly.

His hands slaps down to bracket your arms, where the blankets don’t reach. The clap of meaty flesh on metal echoes, crisp, and drowns your groan as he lurches forward and his own shaft run along yours. Just as hard, hips bucking so his balls jump to brush yours, your cock, and the slight difference in the skins, slick on coarse...

"Fuck." You twist his hair in your grip, admiring the grimace on the warped look he’s already pinched into. Lust, pain, and that fear of something sharp just inches from his throat. Wanted fear, you know, but still. Can’t be helped, the engrained want to live.

But those damn last buttons, that goddamn bandanna.

Your hips burn, keeping them thrusted up to meet his. Your lips ache, frozen, peeled back to bare your fangs. You rumble, low, and untangle your fingers to pluck the rest of the buttons free. Difficult work, with Josh still rutting you together, your fingers jittery from the pressure burning in your hips and every nerve ending in your shaft on fire.

You manage, and the shirt falls away to give you the rest of his chest, the scars, and you go for that bandanna next.

It’s like you come, seeing his pulse jump, leap under his jaw as you get your hands back in his hair and yank Josh down. He gasps, tenses, your cocks pinned between your bodies for a beat as you kiss his pulse, lick it, tease it with your fangs. It’s fit to bursting, when you just barely prick the eggshell-thin flesh. Not enough to pierce, just suggest it. Offer it.

Josh knows that, but it doesn’t stop his pulse from fluttering rabbit-crazy. You purr, pull your fangs off, and lap at it to coax it down. It doesn’t, by much, but it evens out at a gallop that’s just right when Josh nudges you. He chuckles, when his necklace piles, slackened, on the bridge of your nose and into your eyes, forcing you to squint.

He rocks his hips once, a roll that extends far enough that his balls start to slide over the underside of your shaft. "Can I do my thing?"

Fuck yes. Words catch in your throat, like flies in a web, so you just nod.

Josh crafts, he’s stupid, but he’s smart—so he does, and his hair and necklace swing with his rocks.

In the aftermath, shivering and panting, he lets his weight go boneless over you. You’re more comfortable than the floor, and anyway, it snuffs the aster and kidney vetch. Maybe he’ll let you claim him, one day. You’ve held off on bitching about that damn tattoo on his lip, lest Blade hear. Cattle for the others, fuck that, he’s yours.

And your Josh’s, you give in and realize, as those craftsman’s hands flutter up and drag careful fingertips down your fangs. Prodding the tip, just enough, to well little cherries of blood you lap greedily.

You’ll grieve it, once you turn him. So for now, you just drink.

#blade 2 #scud #scud x reader #male reader #vampire reader #prompt request #season of kink

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voidoutbt · 3 years

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MULES attack!

Reader (gender neutral) x Porter Higgs/Peter Englert fanfic

In which Peter defends reader from MULES, and scares them with his abilities...

No NSFW warnings.

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You knew that your route took you straight through MULE territory. There was no realistic way around it without bypassing the big canyon, which would take far too much time and energy. You didn't have enough space for guns or grenades this time either to defend yourself with, you were going to have to try and sneak past.

As you get closer to their camps, you crouch behind a rock to scan your surroundings. Fellow porter Peter Englert was with you, you were glad for the company. Doing this route alone would be far too stressful, and you couldn't carry all the cargo yourself for this run. He raises a gloved finger to his lips and points, a small group of MULES were nearby but they hadn't spotted you yet.

Your back and knees hurt from crouching but you attempt to carry on doing so until you can get past. Suddenly an orange light washes over you and commotion can be heard. They had scanned your cargo. "Shit!" Peter looks wide eyed at you, "Go, GO, run!". There's no point hiding now. You get up and run as fast as your legs can take you, holding onto the cargo straps at your shoulders for dear life. You attempt to run up the side of the hill, circumventing most of their tents. You panic when you realise that Peter isn't following behind you, he's standing his ground, getting his strand ready to fight.

A spear whizzes past you and impacts into the ground just ahead of you, you just manage to dodge it. He calls after you, "[Y/N] keep going!" as 3 MULES run towards you, another 2 going after Peter. You glance behind you to see him taking one down by hooking his strand over their throat and pulling tightly. His height, being at 6ft3, and his slim build the advantage in a fight like this. Another spear flies past you closely, the MULES now hot on your tail. It strikes the ground and sparks of electricity leap out. You try to jump over it but it zaps your leg. You cry out in shock, your legs feeling like jelly, the muscles spasming. You tumble, losing your footing, the weight of the cargo on your back unbalancing you. Tears of stress and pain sting your eyes as you take a hard fall, rolling down the side of the hill, the MULES now closing in on you. Peter shouts your name and you hear him get punched in the face. Things had gone to shit very quickly.

As you roll to a halt at the bottom of the hill, the heavy weight on your back pins you down. Pain seers through you in multiple places as you cry out, tears running down your face. You look up to see 3 MULES converge in on you, their shock-poles outstretched. In the distance, Peter is still fighting desperately. You hear him roar in rage, and the skies open with heavy timefall. Your auto-hood protects your head and face from the sudden downpour. You feel all the hairs on your arms and neck stand up, like the air itself is electrified. You shudder with a sense of dread, something is coming. As one of the MULES stabs his rod into your ribs and another kicks you, you can do nothing but scream and curl up defensively as they attempt to steal your cargo.

Deep black puddles start to form around you. The MULES look confused. One let's out a horrified scream as something grabs his legs and pulls him down. His fellow MULES try to pull him back as they slip and slide in the heavy downpour. You look on in terror, desperately trying to scramble away. You manage to get on top of a rock as the very ground beneath you seems to turn to tar. Screams fill the air with struggling MULES. You see Peter in the distance, on a large rock, his arms outstretched towards you. Instead of fear, his face is oddly placid, but his eyes burn with a fierce dark rage boiling under the surface, chiral tears roll down his cheeks. His expression scares you. His eyes lock with yours, and you somehow know...This is him. Your eyes won't stop streaming. You shout to him, "PETER! STOP! We need to get out of here! There will be a VOIDOUT!!!" His eyes widen in realisation, the rage subsiding. He lowers his arms, and the puddles gradually dry up, leaving frightened MULES in their wake, running away from you both. The rain slowly stops.

Peter looks exhausted, hunched over panting, his face is bloody. You are not sure if its his blood or theirs. Once the tar has retracted, he runs over to you as fast as he can manage, and falls to his knees beside you. He clutches you, cradling you in his long arms. He pulls you up into his warm and strong but gentle embrace. You wince in pain all over, but have never felt more safe than in that moment, you didn't want him to ever let go. He kisses your forehead and rocks you slightly, whispering "I'm so sorry [y/n]... Its okay... Its okay... I won't let them hurt you... They won't hurt you..."

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For @samfrancis94 @astrandofgold and @pandoratriestowritestuff

Hope you like 🖤💙🖤

#Death stranding fan fic #Fan Fiction #Short story #higgs x reader #Reader x higgs #Porter higgs #peter englert #My writing #MULES #Action story

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phoenixblack89 · 3 years

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Fera Ingris

Chapter 3: Whiskey Kisses

Here we go again peeps!

And its a SMUTTY one!!!

@lilythemadqueen @autocon23 @darylsgirl @boondoctorwho @browneyes528 @writingdeadangel @pandoratriestowritestuff

The group quickly ran into the building, the bright lights harsh on their eyes after the darkness of outside. Phoenix and Daryl were the last to enter, shooting off arrows and bolts into the approaching undead, until finally they ran out and ducked into the building pulling the doors closed behind them. The group looked around as a man near the control panel spoke.

"Anyone bit?"

Rick stepped forward as Phoenix sagged slightly, her energy drained and her left hand giving sharp jolts of pain. Daryl held her waist lightly to support her as the pair half listened to the doctor. Nodding along to the blood test when given a look from Rick.

"Forgive me but she doesn't look in the best shape... You are absolutely sure she's not infected?" Dr. Jenner questioned as he led them to the elevator, after the men had done a very quick retrieval of their bags from the vehicles. Daryl glanced at Rick and gave a slight nod at him.

"She got hurt. Her hand needs treated properly. We tried but we're ain't doctors." The crossbowman growled, pulling the girl closer as he felt her shaking slightly. "It's infected, I think."

The doctor gave a grimace as the elevator began to move slowly downwards.

"I'll take a look, we have antibiotics so she should be right as rain in no time."

********

Everyone was stood around as Dr. Jenner took blood from them, Phoenix paced just outside the room nervously. She didn't want to have to give blood. But she knew she couldn't refuse and risk being thrown back outside. The anxiety was getting the better of her, she knew it was only a little blood then she could relax and enjoy their new found safety.

But the idea of being touched by some she didn't know, a man no less, didn't exactly sooth her.

Daryl leaned against the doorway and watched her. He could feel the pain and worry coming off the girl like the heat of the Georgian sun in August. He slowly walked over and took hold of her and spun her to face him. His eyes burrowing into hers as he slowly pulled her into his chest, offering what little comfort he could. The simple and thoughtful act breaking the dam on her tears.

She cried quietly into his chest as he rubbed at her back awkwardly. A moment later she pulled back, wiping her eyes and giving him a tiny nod as she stepped out of his space. Daryl, like her, didn't like to be touched and she respected that.

Phoenix pulled herself to her full height, back straight and face blank as she turned and pulled off her long, leather coat and her arm braces. She passed her coat to Shane as she passed him, pulling the purple ribbon that held the wrist of her sleeves together loose to pull it up her arm. Tattoos she had hidden from the group slowly coming to light for the first time in months as she sat down in front of the doctor - a vast expanse of multicoloured stars gracing along her left forearm to her elbow and a twisted almost burnt looking scar around her wrist.

Eyes blank, lips pulled into a thin line as he wrapped the pressure cuff over the injured hand and up her arm. She hissed as the cuff tightened and she felt the man's hand wiping at the crook of her elbow with antiseptic. Her knee bouncing up and down rapidly as the doctor gently tapped her arm, Daryl moving to her eyeline and glaring at the doctor's back. He knew she would need his reassuring presence once this was over. Her eyes met his as she grew more and more rigid as the man continued to touch her skin. She let out a sharp yelp as the needle pierced her skin and closed her eyes, breathing heavily as her blood was taken.

"There all done. I'll take a look at your hand in a little while. Whose next?"

Phoenix shot out of the seat and to Daryl's side, hiding slightly behind him. He looked over his shoulder at her as Andrea sat down, the pair moving to lean against the wall on the other side of the room. The silent pair watched as the blond woman almost fell after the process, Jacqui quickly catching her and explaining they hadn't eaten in days.

Jenner smiled and lead the group to a large canteen, telling them to help themselves. Daryl and Phoenix helped themselves and retreated a little way away from the main group, the girl feeling better for having her sleeve fastened tight with the studded leather cuff and coat on once more. Almost as if she was wearing armour and no one could hurt her if she had it on. Daryl nudged her shoulder lightly, nodding at her plate to get her to eat. She gave him a tight lipped smile and pushed a piece of food into her mouth.

The food was stale MREs but it was food and tasted delicious on her tongue after so long of not eating. She soon had finished her plate and grabbed a second and a 3rd before she stopped. Daryl smiled as wine began to be poured for the group and grabbed a bottle and settled into the spare chair at the table, Phoenix sinking down beside him. The group laughed and enjoyed themselves at Carl's antics and Daryl saying Glenn was to continue drinking until his face was red (which was achieved in a rather short time).

Phoenix glanced at their silent host and he raised his head in question. She pointed at her hand and stood up, Daryl looking over his shoulder as the doctor followed her out of the room. He led her to a lab and gestured for her to take a seat with her hand on the table. He busied himself with putting on gloves and pulling out some medical equipment.

"So... How did this happen exactly?" he questioned, eyes flickering to the door way where Shane, Rick and Daryl stood; as grateful as they were for the shelter they didn't trust the man alone with the young woman. Phoenix swallowed as she pulled off her brown leather fingerless glove, hissing slightly through her teeth at the stabbing pain shooting up her fingers to her arm. The doctor looked at her expectantly.

"Hunting accident. Fell down a hill carrying a buck. Landed on the twat's antlers... My own fault. Snapped the antler free from its head and went back to camp." She shrugged as if it was a everyday occupation for her to be injured in such a way. "Pulled the bastarding antler out and passed out. Next thing I know is a burning pain in my hand. The others burnt it shut." Jenner grimaced at the description of the group's rather drastic options.

"Only thing they could do." She growls out as he pokes and prods at the sealed wound, pus oozing out of one of the edges slowly. The doctor gathers up some of the pus with a cotton swap and spreads it onto a slide before taking it to a microscope and peering at it.

"Any allergies to medications?" He questions without looking up. She shuffles in her seat and nods.

"Penicillin. Amoxicillin. Anything ending with Cillian."

"Good job I have access to other options then. I'm gonna to give you an injection of long lasting antibiotic. And some oral ones too. Take them for the next two weeks. Should be okay and gone by then."

He smiles at her, preparing a syringe of clear liquid before reaching out for her arm. She reluctantly pulls her sleeve up as far as it can go and winces as the needle picks her skin. The cold sensation of the liquid entering her arm makes her shudder as he rubs at her skin. He smiled sadly and settled down on the chair opposite her with the surgical tools beside him.

"Let's get this clean up properly then we can re-join your friends."

The next ten minutes are painful to say the least, Jenner squeezes as much of the infection out of her hand through a small cut he places on her wound before flushing it with sterilised water and alcohol before bandaging it up tightly. Her hand throbs and burns slightly, making her shake it almost constantly to stop her itching it like a dog with mange. She raises from the chair and follows the trio at the door back to the rest of the group.

Daryl gives her a half smile as he hands her a shot of whiskey he'd found. The wine being passed around happily between everyone.

Then Dale ruins the moment asking about where all the rest of the doctors and workers are.

The group growing solemn and dire as Jenner explains the ones who hadn't left the building had opted out of life before leading them down to where they'd be sleeping. Glenn and everyone's mood lifting once the announcement of hot running water was heard. Phoenix and Daryl paused at a door and entered slowly. Daryl dropped on to the sofa and patted the seat next to him.

"Ya okay girl?" He asked as she slowly rubbed over the clean white bandage on her hand as she sank into the comfortable plush cushions. She nodded slightly and gave him a smile.

"Feel better now I've got a full stomach. Whiskey's probably helping a tad too." She gave him a side long look as he raised the bottle to his lips and she found herself watching his Adam's apple bopping as he swallowed. Her heart suddenly sounded louder than ever in her ears as her heart started to quicken. "The meds are kicking in probably too."

"Good. Wouldn't... Wouldn't... Erm... You're the only one I trust. Apart from Merle." He stuttered, cheeks reddening with embarrassment and the alcohol. His hand found its way to her thigh and his thumb ran gently and hesitantly up and down. His eyes followed its movement as her eyes found his, her lips suddenly feeling very dry as she ran her tongue over them. Daryl shifted his weight closer to her and smiled slightly.

"You really okay?"

She swallowed thickly, the air beginning to grow hotter around them as she reached for the whiskey. She gulped down a mouthful, a drop of the liquor slipping down past her lips to roll down her chin, neck and dip below her shirt. Daryl's eyes following the droplet on its journey, his heart pounding in his chest and his jeans growing slightly tighter at the sight, noticing her nipples showing just slightly against the fabric. His blue orbs slowly trailed down her body to her chest, which heaved against her tight form fitting shirt. Every breath tightening the fabric more snuggly against the large breasts underneath.

He eyed how her nipples grew harder and more prominent and licked his lips. His hand gripped her thigh tighter as his and her breathing sped up unconsciously, he moved closer and his other hand took the bottle placing it on the floor beside them before reaching out slowly to take her face gently into his hold.

"Daryl..." she whispered as they both leaned closer to each other, their gaze fixed on each other's eyes as they shifted slightly. His body eased over her's as she laid the length of the sofa. Her legs falling open to allow him inside her thighs, their faces within inches of each other but still not touching. Daryl lowered himself completely over her, his weight held up by his arm, muscles tense as their hips brushed against each other lightly.

A small gasp released from her lips as she felt his aroused member brush her core. Daryl smirked and closed the distance between them to kiss her plump lips.

The kiss started hesitantly for the both of them, Daryl softly grinding his hip into hers.

The girl slowly moving hers back to take his slow and torturous thrusts. Daryl pulled back and gazed down at her as he sped his thrusts slightly and increasing his weight against her core to apply more pressure, watching as her eyes fluttered and a moan escaped her lips.

Phoenix opened her eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and growled. Her hand grabbed harshly at Daryl's neck to pull him into a passionate kiss, which caused him to buck even hard against her. His hand reaching up her shirt to manhandle her chest. He growled at the tight fabric and began to pull at the hem in anger. She pushed him up slightly and unclipped her under-bust corset and threw it to the ground, reaching behind her for the shirt zipper with one hand and shrugging her jacket off with the other. Soon enough she was shirtless underneath the man, his eyes hazy with alcohol and lust.

Daryl ground his hip into her harder and faster, her quiet moans turning him on even more as he began to assault her chest with his hands and mouth. The squeals of the children's laughter growing louder outside the room as they ran up and down the corridor outside the room.

Phoenix ached her back as Daryl grazed her nipple through her bra with his teeth. His hand slowly stroked down her ribs to her mound, to rub hard against the denim. Her breaths coming faster and faster as the coil in her gut tightened. She looked at him as he raised his head in question, his thumb playing nervously with her button. She nodded slightly as his thumb dipped below her waistband, gently and slowly moved south. She pulled him into a passion kiss as his hand sheathed itself inside her jeans, his fingers spread deliciously over her panties feeling how wet they'd grown over his actions.

She moaned into his lips as their tongues battled against each other. Daryl groaning as he worked up the courage to actually touch her under her panties and explore her body more fully. His cock strained against his jeans, his hand already damp with her desire.

BANG!

The door buckled as it was hit forcefully by something. The noise causing the pair to break apart.

The moment between the two completely ruined and broken.

Daryl ducked his head and quickly backed away from the girl, his fingertips tingling slightly with the echo of her wet panties lingering on them. He sat up and left the room quickly. Phoenix gulped down air and rose to a sitting position slowly. Her lips and chest felt raw from Daryl's kiss and her clit ached in a pleasant throb as her desire slowly ebbed away. She ran her hand through her short spiky hair as tears slowly graced her cheeks.

"Fuck my life!" She whispered, pulling a t-shirt out of her bag and throwing it over her body. She sobbed silently as her heart slowed and she remembered the feel of Daryl touching her.

*******

Daryl stomped into the canteen, grabbing another bottle of whiskey and intended to drown himself in the strong liquor and forget his worries and self loathing for at least the night. His cock still hard and aching in his jeans as he tried to push the memory of Phoenix's taste from his lips. He walked quickly to the shower and stripped and climbed inside. The warm water ran down his scared back in ripples, the sensation almost feeling like the girl's fingers as he had thrust himself against her. His hand slowly trailed down his chest and stomach, despite the water he could still feel the lingering dampness of her arousal coating them. He threw back his head against the tiles with a dull thud as his palm wrapped around his hard thick cock. He sighed loudly as he began to pump himself slowly up and down, his mind picturing the beautiful curves of the girl he'd ran from.

He felt her smooth skin under his hands as he felt down her stomach to her jeans, popping her button and unzipping them as his tongue swirled around her nipple. Her nails digging into his biceps and hair as her moans grew louder. His hand cupped her body and ran his tongue down her neck, discovering a spot that had her gasping as he slowly pushed his fingers into her wet hot pussy. His thumb grazing her clit making her legs quiver against his arm.

His fist moved faster and faster over the head of his cock, precum leaking and his chest heaving letting his imagination take hold fully -

Phoenix pulled his head up and crashed their lips together as she began to cum all over his fingers, her walls tightening and pulsing over and over as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through her body. His name falling between their lips as she dragged her fingernails down his back over his shirt. He groaned and reached for his jeans pulling his thick dripping cock out and lining up with her slick hole, glancing at the woman below him questioningly. She gave a tiny nod and pulled him back to her lips as he slowly pushed inside her. His hand gripped her hip hard as she moaned. The heat, tightness and pleasure coating his cock was too much and his, somewhat, inexperienced body couldn't hold back. Thrusting deep and fast, the couple were soon moaning in tandem. Their body crying out for orgasmic bliss, nails dragging along skin and hands pulling on each others hair. Lips crashing against each other over and over until finally Phoenix milked his cock for everything he had.

Daryl came over his hand with a muffled groan as sweat slicked his hair to his face. His chest heaved underneath the now lukewarm water and he squeezed his eyes shut. Feeling woozy and relaxed for the first time in a long while before a surge of guilt ruined his mood. She was his friend and here he was using her image for his own sick pleasure. Sure they had kissed and she seemed to enjoy it but it was surely only the alcohol and drugs making her feel that way. Daryl snorted in disgust at himself and looked down at his scared chest.

Like any girl would wanna be touched by a monster like you he thought rinsing his hand under the spray and grabbing the soap before quickly scrubbing himself clean as he could.

*********

Phoenix wiped her tears and picked her bag up to head to the showers. She reached the door and jumped back as it opened before her. Daryl shifted his weight as he opened the door to the showers, not noticing straight away that there was someone in front of him. When he looked up, his face grew red in embarrassment then shame. He could see clearly the tear track along Phoenix's cheeks and how red and puffy her eyes had become. He felt like a complete arsehole for making her cry.

"Ain't a lot of hot water left." He muttered, head down as he passed her. His head was beginning to clear from the alcohol buzz and he headed off to find another bottle to drown his sorrows in as the girl stepped inside. He heard her sob as the door swung closed and felt his heart breaking, wishing he could just turn around and do what he wanted to and take her in his arms and kiss her again.

But he couldn't

He shouldn't!

He wouldn't!

But he knew, deep down inside, that he most certainly would.

****************

Phoenix groaned and stretched her back, it clicked and popped several times as she awoke. Her head hurt. Her neck felt itchy as did her chest then she remembered why.

Her and Daryl.

Whisky.

Kisses against her skin.

The way he'd rushed out after the bang to the door.

Fresh tears welled in her eyes as she slowly sighed. Her mouth tasted like shit and she was dying for a smoke. She pulled on her boots as her vision swayed in front of her eyes. The world seemingly to tilt to one side.

"Fuck it." She muttered, finishing dressing and shoving her belongings back into the small duffel. Her hands brushed the rosaries on the top of the pile and she pulled them both over her head, under her shirt where they rested against her stomach next to her own silver rosary. She zipped the bag and placed it on the sofa before venturing in search of the rest of her group, throwing two of the pills Jenner had given her into her mouth and swallowing them dry.

She reached the canteen and stifled a laugh at the sight of Glenn, clearly nursing a massive hangover. She nodded to T-Dog as he handed her a plate of eggs and sunk into a chair, crossing her right leg over her left to balance her plate on and tucked into the food hungrily. A short yelp and a curse was heard from the hallway as Daryl stumbled into the room. He'd been successful in his mission last night to drown his sorrows and was now paying the cost.

His face paled as his eyes grazed over the girl's form. Her eyebrow raised in question as he too wolfed down a plate of eggs. She whistled lowly and Daryl's head flew upwards, the hunting signal they'd come up with questioning him without asking out right

You okay?

He let a small whispered whistle come out in reply

Yea. You?

The girl smiled sadly and nodded. Daryl shrugged and ducked his head again. Guilt twirling deep in his gut making his headache worsen. He finished his eggs as Dale began questioning Jenner about the count down clock. Jenner lead them all to the main console room and explained that the virus was unstoppable and in order to protect the world that once the countdown reached zero the whole building would implode, an explosion that set fire to the very air itself.

Daryl glanced at Phoenix as she shook with unshed tears, his hands on his head and he walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her waist letting her head fall into his chest.

"I'll get ya out. I fuckin' promise." He whispered so only she could hear. Shane and Rick walked over and he followed them, reluctant to let the girl be by herself but followed them down to the generators. They returned and the fight broke out. Shane telling everyone to grab their stuff and that they were leaving. Phoenix ran to her room and threw her bow and quiver around her shoulders, grateful she'd chosen to leave her axe and second duffel in Daryl's truck.

Daryl paused outside her door and waited for her to hurry up as she shoved a blanket into her duffel. She stood up and paused in her actions and swallowed thickly. Daryl took a step closer to her and grabbed her hand pulling her back to the main room. His crossbow bouncing off his back at his quick pace.

Rick was trying to reason with Jenner to open the door. Shane started shooting at the monitors and the kids cried loudly.

Phoenix had had enough.

She reached into the inside of her jacket, pulling the Berretta out and marched up to Jenner. She pushed him back against the console and pushed the silencer into his forehead.

"You open those goddamn doors! Suicide, what this is! Is a great big whooping sin mate and I ain't gonna go down South cos of you!" She snarled, pulling her rosaries out and making sure the man caught a glimpse of the deadly look in her eyes. Her lips curling back as she snarled like a wild animal in his face. Daryl and Rick gently pulled her arm back and away from the scared man and she allowed it. Holstering the weapon again and joining him at taking an axe to the door.

"Let us out. We got to take that chance." Rick stated.

"I can't." He whispered. "Those doors are made to withstand a rocket launcher." he said looking over at Daryl, who had been bashing at the doors with a fire axe. Daryl saw the look of defeat on Phoenix's face for a second before charging at Jenner, axe raised.

"But your head ain't!" He snarled as Shane and T-Dog intercepted him. He stormed back to the door and started smashing the axe into it more forcefully. Phoenix slumped down at the bottom of the ramp and tears ran down her face once again, her mind wishing her boys were with her but not at the same time. She just wanted to hear their voices, feel them wrapping their arms around her again, making her feel safe and welcomed and loved. But she wouldn't wish this fate on them. Not in a million years.

Rick was talking to Jenner and the man finally relented and the metal doors slid open. Daryl grabbed her arm and yelled to the rest of the group. They charged up the stairs two at a time and exited into the building's main lobby.

The doors wouldn't open and Rick, Shane, T-Dog, Phoenix and Daryl all beat against the doors with their axes or guns. Shane shooting off a few rounds at the glass only to duck as the bullets bounced all around them.

Carol slowly approached Rick, digging into her handbag and pulled out a grenade, explaining she'd found it in his pocket when she washed his clothes that first day of camp. Everyone scrambled for cover.

Phoenix stood behind a pillar with her back pressed tightly against it, Daryl running to stand against her. His weight shielding her and forcing the pair to be almost in the exact same position as the previous night. She ducked her head into Daryl's neck, feeling him gulp and shiver slightly.

Down boy he thought, willing his cock, which twitched in excitement, not to embarrass him in this moment. The window shattered, the noise echoing loudly in the empty lobby. He glanced down at Phoenix's grey-blue eyes and felt his mouth go dry.

Later his brain told him, once more grabbing her hand and pulling her after him and out of the building. Swinging his axes at the walkers coming closer. Phoenix ducking the blade when it swung back towards her. The pale blue Ford truck grew closer and closer.

Daryl threw open the door and Phoenix climbed in, Daryl throwing himself on top of her in his haste. She grunted at the unexpected weight on top of her and glared up at him. He smirked back and leaned onto his elbows to take his weight off her as his cock decided once again to twitch at her closeness.

God dammit Daryl! Get a grip of yaself! He thought, noticing how his beard had caused a slight rash on her neck and the underside of her chin.

"You're staring." She whispered at him as he glanced out the window. He nodded and ducked his head down towards her's. She swallowed and their eyes met. "Daryl..."

"Fuck it. Might die in a second." Daryl said, more to himself than her. His hand wove into her hair and he pushed their lips together roughly.

It was a desperate, soul crushing kiss of two people who thought they were about to die.

She sighed as her hands rushed to his hair and tugged it, pulling him impossibly closer.

It was nothing like the previous kiss that were tender and full of longing.

The truck rocked as the CDC imploded, the pair barely noticing as their tongues began to battle once more.

A moan escaped between their lips as Daryl unknowingly pushed his throbbing, hard cock right up against the girl's clit. He pulled back as he realised what he'd done and glanced through the window at the building. Hearing Rick honked his horn to signal to ride out. He cleared his throat and sat fully in the driver's seat, allowing Phoenix to pull her legs up from under him to seat herself on the bench further away. She refused to look at the man and glared out the window, willing her tears away.

Her heart still pounding and knowing Daryl was still hard and waiting to be pleased next to her.

PREVIOUS - NEXT

#Fera Ingris #PhoenixBWrites #twd fanfiction #TWD x bds fanfiction #twd daryl #DarylDixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x oc #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #daryl x oc smut

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shanalikeanna · 3 years

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I was feeling this one in my bones so I did it first LOL @pandoratriestowritestuff

Based on: https://pandoratriestowritestuff.tumblr.com/post/648936730897121280/the-imitation-game

#death stranding #higgs #higgs monaghan #higgs x reader #higgs x oc

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ruinerofcheese · 3 years

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Wouldn't it be fucking hilarious if Higgs would be scared of spiders? As in squeel like a 6-year-old girl and climb on a chair, scared of spiders?🤣🤣

The big bad terrorist conjuring up BTs and shit, terrified of a spider is making me giggle 🤣

@pandoratriestowritestuff @chiralcrystallization @shanalikeanna ?

#it's okay Higgs #i understand #I'm terrified of them too

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larkingale · 3 years

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You know why... @pandoratriestowritestuff

#death stranding #higgs monaghan #death stranding fanart #ds higgs #higgs #fanart #@pandoratriestowritestuff

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larkingale · 3 years

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I don‘t regret anything... 🍕🐀😊♥️

#@pandoratriestowritestuff #based on real life events #death stranding #higgs monaghan

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larkingale · 3 years

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@pandoratriestowritestuff Can‘t sleep, need bunny!

#@pandoratriestowritestuff #cute bunny #bunny art #digital art #digital drawing

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astrandofgold · 3 years

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Outburn the sun

So I did this last week, but thanks to a absent brain, I completely forgot to post it. This was inspired by @pandoratriestowritestuff’s simply gorgeous fic, and I got suspiciously misty-eyes while reading it.

#pandoratriestowritestuff #soft Higgs #higgs monaghan #death stranding #artists on tumblr #my art #art #digital art #digital artist #higgs x reader

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astrandofgold · 3 years

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Higgs, I’m sorry for the things that @pandoratriestowritestuff and I put you through

#it can’t all be sexy good art #if you guys can’t handle me at my shitty comics then you don’t get me at my sexy Higgs in thigh highs #I’m fucking dying #why did nobody do this #fucking sharpie ugly ass eyebrows on him #he’d immediately start throwing dead bodies at BTs to end the world right then and there #be glad it’s not a dick #death stranding #higgs monaghan #artists on tumblr #art #my art #digital art #digital artist

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rattlerinthewheel · 3 years

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Fruit Bat: Scud/Reader

He should know better than to irritate the vampire that’s already pissed, wounded, and starving—so you teach him.

For the Kinky Things Happen bingo square: vampires and discipline, at @pandoratriestowritestuff’s request for some Scud. Credit to them and @phoenixblack89, who talked about Scud getting spanked and choking on a donut, for the respective scenes.

- - -

You’re still pissed at him.

But it’s hard to give him the silent treatment when you need to get at the junk around the tables. Move, pass me that wrench, throw me that wire, is dry and distant, work-related; but turn that shit down, quit spewing crumbs, stop grabbing me, and other growls that aren’t related to the tech you’re fiddling with get read as some sign—to keep doing those things, but that’s sure not what your glares should be saying.

Well, it isn’t a surprise that he’s being a dumbass about it. A moron about a lot of shit, lately, the bandage on your arm can vouch for that. And it was an accident, sure, you wouldn’t usually blame him for aiming that UV flashlight at anything that swarmed at him on a job; but he’d been high and you’d called out a warning, dammit, and he still got you with it. Burned like a motherfucker, like acid.

His apology was huffed, high-sluggish, and rank like the shitty weed he’d been toking.

Maybe he’s realizing you’re really pissed, content with just your hand as company for a few days, because you haven’t taken a break even once from this group project—a net of UV panels you can drape over the van; they stay off for now, obviously—to get your hands down his pants, or his down yours.

But Josh—Scud’s dumb, and it pisses him off to be called Josh, so of course that’s what you call him—is definitely high, not as sharp as he’d otherwise be, and his logic is coming from his dick today. His brain would be screaming at him to not agitate the vampire that’s wounded and pissed.

He’s prodded at you the whole damn night so far, brushing your groin to grab a tool there’s fifteen more of scattered around that he can get to, angling his head in a way that makes the churning veins under too damn tempting, flat-out groping your ass when his first two tactics don’t get him anything more than warning hisses.

Except when he decides he doesn’t like a particular hiss you give, too much teeth for his liking, because when his hand drops from where it’s gotten in a squeeze it claps right back down across the ass cheek it grabbed. Fucking hard, too; "make peace, not war" your ass.

You whirl where he’s scrambling back to his side of the room, giggling, hands raised with his palms out like he can call a truce. Like he hasn’t been doing this shit all night and your hisses and menaced fangs are supposed to be equals, or something.

Well, they aren’t. And you feel like cashing in some payback.

"C’mon, baby, lighten up!" trails his getaway while you give chase. You don’t run after him, but Josh stumbles and darts around like you are. It’s one of the oldest hunting tactics, just following, while the prey tires itself out trying to get away. Vampires don’t need to use it, you could just as easily catch up, even with a bandaged arm.

But Josh wants to goddamn play, so you’ll follow suit. For now.

Smoker’s lungs, stoner’s, don’t let him keep it up as long as a guy his age could. Josh staggers, stumbles a last time like his clothes weigh fifty pounds, and drops on the steps up to another part of the workshop. By his couch and TV, the little nest he’s made for himself, and you don’t think that’s accidental; but you don’t plan to move things to that shitty couch, not anytime soon.

You walk right up to him, and Josh goddamn grins, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs like he’s offering himself up like a damn meal. He’s still got one of those shitty donuts, and he takes a bite, still grinning, and flicks a crumb at your leg.

"You’re a child," you growl, getting a whiff of syrup lactic acids, probably burning his calves like battery; iron thumped in and out of his heart, jumping in his throat, flushing his face; that damn weed turning everything earthy, chalky like loam, but still good.

"I’m a delight," spews more crumbs with another giggle. "Besides, baby, you love it."

You do—when you aren’t pissed at him. "Love to kick your ass," you huff, toeing the step by his foot.

His hum makes you swallow. Fucking thirsty, you are, and that’s just the worst kind of trifecta for Josh to be near right now: starved, pissed, and wounded. Your nerves are shot, and his chase didn’t tire you, but it sure as shit reminded you of what hunts are supposed to take care of. And his hum, that sounds vaguely like a dying, helpless churr from a punctured throat...

Shit.

But the hum bubbles into a chuckle, as you’re stepping away to beat it and get back to work—so Blade doesn’t have you to stake and Josh to mend, or a drained corpse to bury—when you get a lazy kick to your calf and a teasing, "The little fruit bat running away? Afraid I’ll smack him again?"

You’re starving, agitated, and your arm throbs. It’s not a nickname you hate, but it sets off something.

You stop, turn back slowly, and flick your eyes to either side to make sure you won’t be skewered by stray junk out of place. All clear, so you skulk up, schooling your face into a careful, bland look that puts Josh on edge more than a scowl.

"Ain’t my ass about to get smacked, boy," is throttled with a snap of fangs and a low pounce, and Josh can only drop the fucking donut and yelp as you tackle him.

He gets a bit of ground, because his hand clamps right down on the bandages, making you bark at the bolt of pain. It’s been longer since your last drink than you admitted to Blade, before he left, and that doesn’t help. But Blade would’ve had you come with, otherwise, and you figured dealing with Josh was worth getting the panels for the van closer to field testing.

Because as much as you want to skitter up the wall and drop Josh from the rafters, most days, you don’t want to get back to the van and find a drained, stoner-sized juice box.

So it’s a little ironic that he’s sprawled over your legs, when the scuffle’s over. It’s not what you intended—to pin him to his stomach, straddle, and give a few smacks before letting him go—but you sort yourselves out. First Josh, and you wrap an arm over his waist to keep him down; then yourself, and you sit up properly so his ass is right where you want it.

These days, child rearing isn’t what you were accustomed to, and Josh doesn’t figure it out until he feels your hand settle across the seat of his cargo pants. "No fuckin’ way," is half telling, half laughing, and the weed probably has something to do with that second part.

Because the first part’s not amused, but just in case he doesn’t get it across that he’s not thrilled to be pinned this way, Josh starts trying to buck off your lap.

"Yes fucking way," you hiss, and your hand cracks down over his right cheek.

It’s loud, even for his human hearing, and goes off like a shotgun blast. Josh twists his head back, huffing. The scowl he tries to give doesn’t have the kind of impact he hopes for, when it twitches at the second swat you land, right over the same spot. Harder than the first, because you won’t have him scowling at you, goddamn brat.

"Hope you know how to sleep with one eye open," cracks when you get a handful of flesh, quieter when he hangs his head. The pants are thin, and you feel the warmth from the swats, hell, hear the blood fizz under the surface. "Get you back for this."

You frown, not at the threat, but another rush of blood you hear. Feel, even better, in your lap.

You growl and throw a withering look his way, because fucking seriously? "You gettin’ hardover this?"

You hear the bones grind, Josh gritting his teeth, when you give the spot you’ve hit twice now a slow rub. Christ, he is, and he’s halfway there by the time you’ve rubbed enough circles into the warmed skin that you have to strain to hear the fizzing blood. You should’ve guessed he was into this, not like he doesn’t rile you up to pin or chase him anyway, this even makes sense.

The swipe to his left thigh is sudden, vampire speed but not strength because you aren’t that cruel. Your ears perk at the sound it gets, when the crack settles again, but before you can ask if he’s fine you feel his thigh rise up into your hand. You can’t help but scoff, because Christ’s sake, you weren’t trying to get frisky with him—and that ship’s goddamn sailed, because you’re helping him get hard.

You’re getting hard, too, can’t be a hypocrite about that. Josh feels it, pushing up into his side, and when he twists his head back again he’s flushed and his mouth’s open. His eyes are glazed over, brow’s furrowed, you think, but it’s hard to tell with the mop of hair in the way. Dammit,and you get a handful of his shirt in your striking hand to keep him from toppling over, and unwrap the other to push the hair off his face.

You can hear his sigh just fine, but it thrums into your fingers where you keep them pushed into his scalp, warm, damp from work and running from you. "Done already, baby? Maybe we can switch," buzzes up your arm.

Shit. You aren’t excited for that, because if he’s going to get you back he’s damn well working for it. But you can feel him reacting to you, swamping your senses; a whine when your fingers curl in the bangs before combing out, his hips shimmying when your arm loops over again, the muscles of his hide clenching as you drag down his pants and boxers.

That last one gets a sharp breath that’s followed up with a sharper swat. You suck in a gasp yourself and tighten your arm, giving your hard-on friction to grind off of, as you run your fingertips over the barely-pink skin. Warm, hot, without the fabric, and it fizzles louder like damn fireworks, when you drop your palm over the left cheek.

"Baby? Not getting any, uh, urges? Know I look good ‘nough to eat normally, but—"

"Shut up," you snarl, and then you’re smacking him again.

It’s anger at this bullshit, your injury, your arm throbbing as Josh twitches against the hold you just double down on when you start laying down swats quick and hard. He could’ve killed you, and he was too damn high to realize it, to apologize, still hasn’t.

But it’s some twisted fascination, too, watching the barely-pink go hot pink, white in the beat after a blow before it blooms darker, then red. You hear the blood fizz, pop, and simmer with each shade the flesh darkens to. Ass goes slower than the thighs, more meat to them, and that reminds you that there’s something to grab so you do. Not after every swat, just to give you both a breather, and you groan when you peel your hand off each time and a five-fingered print flares white before reddening again.

"Hope you choke on those damn donuts," you groan, throaty, when you realize your aim goes off because Josh is rutting into your damn lap. "Quit moving, lemme."

He goes rigid when you grab a hot thigh and spread him open, shift him right so his cock isn’t snug against your leg, and start to stroke. Cruelly slow, but it’s not like he’s getting out of this without some discipline. But you wouldn’t exactly mind doing this again, either...

"No one’s dead, then?"

Josh yelps and finally does buck off your lap. You let him, falling in a heap with his pants still down to his knees, because you’re too busy cringing back from the circle of UV light pointed at the floor. On concrete, not too close to the steps, but you’ve had enough of that wicked light as it is.

Blade doesn’t look bothered by Josh’s undressed, red ass, or the wet spot he left on your jeans. Neither of you finished, just pre-cum, but you’re not keeping a nose or ear out to scent or hear if Josh does by accident in the scramble. You’ve got something else on your mind, that wicks away the lust and anger and drags hunger up your throat so fast you’re dizzy.

The IV bag’s tossed to you, torn into and drained in the time it takes Blade to fish out another from his bag. You hear the flashlight go off and pounce out onto concrete to burrow into the second one he gives over, then growl for the third you can smell when he doesn’t offer it.

"There a problem?"

Your growl sputters, and Josh must’ve gotten his pants back up because he draws attention to himself now. "All good, B. Just looking for some shit for the panels."

Blade doesn’t ask what shit required Josh’s nose being two inches from the lowest step, or being over your lap while he looked, but you go deaf to what they do talk about when the third bag’s thrown your way. By the time you finish, wiggling the puncture marks over your yawning mouth to get the last drop, Blade’s gone and Josh’s face wrinkles.

"Oh, now you don’t want to bother me?" you purr, all fangs, your arm hardly aching and your throat good and wet.

"Shit, dude, would table manners kill you?"

You purr louder, a chuckle, as Josh turns away and goes to hide on his couch with his TV. Close to dawn, anyway, and it’s better to have two pairs of hands for the panels. At least that’s what Josh will tell Blade, probably, if he asks why he isn’t working on it in the morning when you’re sleeping. You’re betting on Blade either calling him out, saying a sore ass doesn’t mean a day off, or just letting it slide. He’s not stranger to vampire strength, even if it’s never been applied to his ass.

Well, Josh can tell him all about it, and you wipe the blood off your face, purr throttling in a real laugh, as Josh decides to lay down on his stomach while he fumbles with the TV.

"Gonna get you back," he reminds you.

In the dim, barely-lit room, with just some cartoon to flick pale tones over the dark space, you lurk over and crawl up onto the back of the couch, balancing on your side, so you can lick your fingers clean and run them through his hair. You tune out the shitty TV to hone in on his blood, calming down, still sputtering around his warm ass. It’s white noise you lose yourself in, purring at his swears when he shifts and agitates the flesh.

#blade 2 #scud #scud x reader #male reader #vampire reader #prompt request #bingo fill

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