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romanoffsbish · 1 year

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In a Summer Haze

CEO!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R

Happy 4/20, 🥰 (belated by a few hours because I passed out 😏 yesterday before finishing the fic)

Warnings: Drugs (Weed): Shotgunning

Smut: Mommy(N), Oral (R), Fingering (R), Overstimulation, Double Sided Strap (R/N).

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha truly loved everything about you.

Like the way your nose scrunched up when she'd tell you a silly joke, or how you'd pull the car over to guide ducks through traffic, but her favorite thing was how you smiled when you settled into her embrace after every long day.

What she especially loved though, was how pliant you were for her. If she wanted to try something new, you were always on board.

——

Marijuana wasn't new to the redhead, but it is for you, and with how long it's been for her it'll likely have the same sort of effect on her. It's something she hadn't dabbled with since she graduated college all those years ago. Starting a company took too much time and energy, she hadn't the time for such frivolities as the CEO.

Until now that is, she was waiting for you to return from the kitchen in your Summer beach house as she rolled a fat joint. This was the first time she'd been on vacation in over a decade, she hadn't gone off since she started working. Natasha was a workaholic to her core, and if not for you she'd never stop and smell the bud.

"One scotch on the rocks for the hottie in my bed," you sang as you entered the room, "and a virgin Shirley Temple for me of course."

"Your bed?"

"If I didn't make you buy this place, it wouldn't be either of ours," you affirmed with a glare, "Plus, what's yours is mine, remember?" you flashed your ring at her as you slipped her the drink, and softly pecked her lips, pulling back with a refined grimace at the way she tasted.

Natasha chuckled, "It might not taste the best, but trust me detka, best orgasm of your life."

"How would you know?" You huffed, sending her a warning glare as you settled down on your side of the bed, she only smirked, "I lived many a life before you Y/N," she paused her talking to seal the joint, holding steady eye contact with you as she licked across the paper, then she used her fingers to seal it seamlessly.

"Which comes with experience," she finally continued on, she placed the joint between her fingers and slowly crawled across the mattress until she was straddling your lap. With her free hand she cupped your face, slowly running her thumb over the apple of your cheek with clear affection, "This life is my favorite though."

"Natty," you softly aired your insecurities with only a whisper of her nickname, "Shh, don't overthink it moya lyubov', just relax for me."

Natasha lit the tip of the pristinely rolled joint, she allowed the embers to burn until the smell of the ganja flitted between the both of you.

"Watch me," she lifted the joint to her lips, her eyes stayed locked in on yours as she inhaled with careful precision. You nearly killed her with just how adorable you looked, as if you were still that bright young intern at her company learning the ropes. Your brows were deeply furrowed, and your nose was scrunched as your eyes drank her in. "Your turn detka."

Natasha flipped the joint, she held it up to your lips, and after a moment of intense staring you took the wetted piece between your lips and sucked hesitantly. For a second it was going well, but you overdid the pull before Nat could take the joint from you, and now you were spluttering as smoke billowed from your lips.

"Gotta pace yourself detka," she mused, and you looked to her through your bleary eyes to see as she took yet another hit without a hitch.

"How are you so good?" You whined, and she chuckled softly as an idea came to her, "Here," she gripped your chin, nails softly digging into the thin skin as she did, you watched her take another slow drag off the joint, the embers at the end a bright orange as they crackled loud enough to fill the deafening silence. Natasha used her free thumb to part your lips, and before you knew it she was transferring the clouds of smoke to you through a soft kiss.

Something about focusing on her pillow soft lips made the process much easier. She softly whispered for you to inhale, and this time you did so without a need to break the kiss apart. Natasha used that to her advantage as she slid her tongue over yours, and was rewarded with a desperate moan that even she unexpected.

Everything was on a new level, you'd never felt anything like this in your life, and you were still deciding if you wanted to again. This sort of heaviness had settled into your limbs, it felt like if you tried to stand they'd be like cement blocks stationing you in place. Then in direct contrast every nerve in your body was alit, the callouses of Natasha's fingers normally were unnoticeable as they trailed over your skin, but as she runs them over your arms you shivered.

"How you feeling detka?" Natasha was amused, she could see the haze in your eyes had set in within mere minutes. She's sure you didn't even realize it, but you'd been sat there with your lips parted ever since the kiss ended.

Mindlessly waiting for more she hopes...

"Like a caterpillar," you noted seriously, and she nearly chocked on the heavy cloud of smoke she was holding in her lungs, "How so?"

"I, hm," you paused to think, it was your truth, but as is the case for most you couldn't fathom how to explain it, "Colorful," you tried, and then you pouted as she giggled in your face.

"I'm not going to tell you if you're being mean!"

Natasha set the burning joint down carefully on the bedside table, then she cupped your cheeks, "I'm not being mean, now go on."

You sighed, "You know how they scrunch their bodies to move?" she nodded with a practiced straight face, "Well, it kinda feels like my brain is doing that just to think. Like it's squeezing tight, then it's just flopping down as if we ran a marathon. Up. Down. Up. Down. It's strange."

Natasha nodded with a smirk, she went to lean in for a kiss but apparently you weren't done, "Also, they eat leaves, and now I smoke them."

Natasha snorted, "Yeah, you do," she reached over to the table to put the joint out for now, "My sweet little lightweight," she teased.

Before you could protest her very true to form statement she captured your lips with hers.

Never in your life did you imagine anything could be better than kissing your wife, but in this moment you realized the only thing better than kissing her, is doing it while being high.

There was a dull ache steadily increasing in between your legs the more she kissed you. Her tongue simply devoured your mouth as you put up no fight, and her hips ground into yours in a calculated motion, building you up unbearably.

"Please..." You begged, and the woman was grinning from ear to ear, "What is it detka?"

A whimper left you as she'd stopped touching you so intimately, you desired having her close. Natasha's pupils were blown, and you weren't sure if your eyes were deceiving you or not, but it appeared like the light green hue darkened.

"I need you mommy," you canted your hips up, pulling a surprised groan from your lover as she too was overly sensitive, "Wanna be your last best orgasm, please, make us the best!"

"You're already my best detka," she attempted to peck your worries away, and in a move to speed the previously tedious process along she trailed her lips over the taut skin of your jaw, her hands slid beneath the hem of your shirt and in one fluid motion the fabric was gone.

"Mommy's going to take such good care of you detka," she whispered hotly against the column of your throat, the hot air she expelled had you squirming as it fanned across your skin. Nat giggled as she felt the way your throat shivered beneath her lips, you'd moaned when her teeth scraped over your skin, "Such a sensitive girl."

The journey to between the apex of your thighs was provocatively slow, her focus on your breasts had you writhing, but you held no real complaints. Every mark she sucked into your skin only brought you closer to your release. Natasha had barely touched you but you felt like you were on the verge of combusting.

"Fuck, you taste so good detka," Natasha lost the need to tease you as soon as her tongue slid over the plush skin of your thigh. Your essence was intoxicating in taste and smell, she inhaled deeply, as if she could hold onto your scent forever this way, her chest was now heaving with such an intense need. A need for you.

Natasha buried her face between your thighs. There was an unlocked carnality to the way her tongue moved through your folds. She's always been a passionate lover, but this went deeper. The woman wasn't even coming up for air, and that willingness of hers to suffocate just to taste you brought you crashing over a blissful edge.

That success didn't stop her either, your bodies writhing and your screaming only encouraged her as she fucked you straight through your orgasm. Natasha was honestly drunk on you, like you were the finest Bordeaux and she was savoring every last drop. Through countless orgasms she continued to eat you out like a fiend, the way tremors of your thighs rippled against her face blew her massive ego up.

Once you reached a point of overstimulation, your legs having tightened around her head in a way that made her dizzy beyond belief, she decided it was best she showed your cunt some momentary mercy. She slowly curled her tongue while buried deep inside you, and as more of your essence spilled from within you she greedily lapped it all up for a final time.

When she finally pried your legs open she was lifting her head up to look at your expression. Your face was a picturesque reflection of bliss. There was a glaze to your bloodshot eyes that gradually tipped over the edge, the tears of satisfaction enhanced your beauty really. After your gasping had tempered you wore a smile, and Natasha mirrored it as she hovered above.

“How you feeling now?” Natasha chuckled when you rolled your eyes, “Like a happy caterpillar, maybe soon I’ll be a butterfly.”

“Oh, I can help you fly baby,” you quirked a brow, and the redhead winked before giving you a nonverbal answer, her fingers entered you and that had your back flying off the bed.

"Oh God," you cried out as she thrusted her fingers into you with little regard to your increased sensitivity, “Oh fuck,” if anything she was exploiting this limited timed response.

Natasha found your inability to speak amusing, the profanities you were just screaming faded out into incoherent babbling interrupted only by involuntary growls from deep within you. There had never been a moment like this for you two before, Natasha was a premium lover, but this experience was clearly next level.

Natasha swiveled her thumb over your clit, "There you go detka," Natasha husked hotly against your lips as you shrieked against hers, "Scream for me Y/N, scream for mommy."

Natasha watched you coming undone, propped up on her elbow she watched with rapt eyes as your mouth flew open, and eyes screwed shut.

"Open your eyes," she tapped your temple, and you hazily obliged, "Such pretty eyes detka," she smiled at you with relative ease, as if she didn't even have to focus on her hand that was jackhammering into you. Holding eye contact with her as she fucked you was dizzying, add on the way she dripped onto your thigh, and it launched you into the best orgasm of your life.

Successfully topping herself as the title holder. She’s long since ruined you for anyone else.

There was nothing more beautiful than seeing you with your lips parted, a melody of moans leaving your lips via your throat as your eyes rolled back into your head so far she was sure you could see your brain. As you worked on coming down from such a glorious high your lover sweetly peppered your face with kisses.

Once your were relatively cognizant she met your lips for a sweet, sensual kiss. There wasn’t much of a rush for either of you to part, you were quite enjoying this moment of reprieve. Because as great as she made you feel just now, you honestly needed a break, and tasting your essence on her tongue was helping to build your dying arousal back up. Something you weren’t used to either, usually after about five big O’s you were ready to tap out, but the drugs coursing in your system surged your libido on.

“Mommy wants to fuck you with her cock,” Natasha growled out her desires as you’d just separated to breathe, she felt you tense a bit, “Come on detka,” Natasha pleaded with a pout, “Just one more, please, mommy needs this.”

You meekly nodded, you could never deny the woman such relief. Not when she worked as hard as she did to provide a life for the both of you, and it’s not like it came at your expense. Her pleasure came with promises of your own.

Natasha slid the strap inside of herself, she nearly buckled at the knees due to the large intrusion, but she managed to hobble back over to the bed where she slid your end into you slowly, with a care you could feel in your chest.

“Can I move?” You could hear the strain in her voice, she was desperate, that much you knew as her slick cunt was pressed atop of yours. She was also considerate, so even if she wanted to fuck you both into a state of bliss, she would wait until you’d adjusted to your longer side.

“Go ahead mommy,” you sighed, “I’m ready.”

Natasha pecked your lips, a silent thank you, before she pulled out, walls clenching around her end to keep it more sturdy as she rammed her hips back into yours. With every thrust her ability to hold her end dwindled, instead she began to let it remain anchored in your cunt while she chased her overdue orgasm down.

Seeing Natasha in such a state only drove you crazier, her hands held your hips in a bruising manner as she chased down what was owed to her without holding back. In an attempt to help you clenched hard and rutted up to meet her thrust down, and that seemed to do the trick. Natasha bit into your neck to conceal her screams of pleasure, and as her walls held the strap tight in their fluttering state she was able to throw you over as she was calming down.

The two of you moved together, helping to prolong the both of your euphoric states until you were whining due to sensitivity. Natasha nuzzled her face against the side of your neck, her tongue prodded at the drops of blood that were dribbling from the mark she’d just left. A soft wince came from you as she lathed her warm tongue over the marred skin to soothe it.

“You did so good for mommy,” she coo’d as her lips kissed a line up your neck until the slotted perfectly against yours. The taste of your arousal mixed with undertones of copper laced your tastebuds as she explored your mouth. It was a slow kiss until it wasn’t, a momentum picked up as her nipples brushed over yours, you could feel your walls fluttering around the strap again, but when her hips moved you felt more pain than pleasure, so you whimpered.

“Shh, it’s okay love,” she pressed a kiss to your cheek before nuzzling her face back into your neck, “Get some rest, you’ll need your strength for round two where mommy plans to ride your pretty little face, my precious built in throne.”

Natasha’s heart fluttered alongside your soft giggles, they were her favorite sound to elicit. While laying atop of you she can’t help but feel grateful that she gave you a chance, that she let herself love something more than her career. Because you’ve now opened her life up to a joy she never would’ve imagined possible, and one she couldn’t fathom living without anymore.

“Mommy,” you called out to her after a few minutes and she hummed tiredly, “Yes detka?”

“I feel like a pretty butterfly now,” you admit, your high clearly still lingering, “You are a very beautiful butterfly, now close your eyes detka.”

“I love you very much,” you whispered, and the redhead smiled, “I love you most Y/N.”

“Nuh uh,” you denied with a shake of your body that jostled the tired woman, “Go to sleep Y/N!” Natasha groaned, and you giggled wildly beneath her, “Oh God, you’re a total giggler.”

——

2,878 Words

Reader:

❤️ Kaitlyn 😏

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dks-smut · 5 months

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Somebody… Part 2

Here’s Part 1, Part 3, Part 4

Pairing: Kyungsoo x female reader

Rating: Mature, Still Explicit af (now with more smut!)

Word Count: 8K

Genre: Smut, Romance, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers.

Warnings: Teasing, name calling, hair pulling, edging, alcohol, degradation, exhibitionism.

——————————

Feeling a bit self conscious you go and grab a large sweater and pull it over your head. “Aww, why did you do that? I love looking at your beautiful body,” he asks with an air of childish disappointment. His reaction to you covering up makes you chuckle. Now you’re staring at his body from across the room. He smiles, takes a deep drag from his cigarette and plops back onto your bed, exhaling smoke.

You walk back to your bed and sit next to him, still staring at his dick. Your thighs rub together, the wetness squishes against your labia, you continue to smoke your cigarette. You toss a throw blanket across his midsection to keep you from feeling so aroused, not that it was a bad thing. You’re trying to calm down, only the cigarette helping. He jolts at the weight suddenly over him and laughs deeply, his chest stretching.

“You are too much,” you say to him, tapping your cigarette out in the ashtray. He lifts his head to look toward you and says, “I could say the same about you. How about that joint?” You nod and grab it and light it up. You take a deep puff and exhale, coughing a bit, smoke swirling around you in the dim light of your bedroom.

He sits up, and takes it from you doing the same. The strong smell of sex and weed fill the air. You pass the joint back and forth when you say, “I really like you. This is insane, the events of tonight.” He grabs your neck and places a deep kiss on your lips. Feeling woozy and high already, you bite his bottom lip and place your tongue in his mouth. He moves closer and starts to place his hand under your sweater stopping at your hip. He whispers close to you, “The feeling is mutual. I never came so fast with someone. You’re incredible.”

You’re both feeling tingly and high from the weed. You smile and look down, his compliments are making you sweat. You sit back against your pillows and stare longingly into his eyes and ask, “Tell me what kind of person you are. You still seem so mysterious to me.” You take another toke and pass it off to him. As he reaches for it he answers, “Well, I’m just like everyone else. I’m human, I make mistakes, I like to cook, eat delicious food. I take my dogs for walks. I love watching foreign films and learning about different cultures. I have a little vegetable and herb garden on my balcony. Pretty boring and normal.”

You’re swooning at the length and substance of his reply. Partially due to his deep expressive voice and him maintaining eye contact throughout. “It’s fucking sexy how domestic you are. You gave off heartless CEO vibes at the bar. Your suit, you looking at your watch, your dark expression,” you say and laugh a bit, feeling kind of silly thanks to the ganja. He blushes a bit then starts to laugh deeply with you.

“I swear I’m not heartless. I’m just very reserved but once I get to know someone, I’ll open up. I’ve been told I have the male equivalent to resting bitch face. I can’t help it, it’s just my face,” he blurts out, feeling more and more comfortable with you. You smile at him and say, “Well you have a very handsome face and gorgeous lips. Like, I want to jump you every time I look at you. You have this sexual energy I can’t explain. Or maybe I’m just a horny person.”

His hand slides up higher under your sweater and starts to pinch and pull your nipple. You shiver and jolt and moan out, “Fuuuuck. I’m still wet. You turn me on so much.” He grabs you to bring you closer and places hungry kisses to your lips. You place your palm over the blanket that you threw over him earlier. He’s still hard and grinds up into your hand sighing. You place the joint in his mouth since he’s preoccupied by your body. He takes a long drag and you do the same until the joint is hard to hold and burns your fingertips. You tap out the rest in the ashtray.

He then leans into your body using all of his weight. Meanwhile, the blanket falls from him and onto the bed. You immediately grab ahold of his veiny dick, stroking it, as you two are still moaning into each other’s mouths. He pulls away to catch his breath, “You are insatiable. Are you always like this?” You look down, hypnotized by his hard cock, “Yes, I make myself come everyday. More on the weekends. Besides, you’re the one who called me a slut.”

As he’s hovering over you he gets your attention, eyes darting from your lips to your eyes and says, “Well, you’re the one who agreed. I think you liked my hand around your throat a little too much.”

You mumble, “Let’s find out what else I like. And I want to know what you like. Tell me please. I want to pleasure you the way you want. Any deep dark fantasies, I will fulfill.”

“Shit, you are so eager, I’m going to come so fast again. Your hand on my dick isn’t helping,” he manages to eke out. You’re stroking more vigorously as he’s staring into your soul, still hovering. You push your palm to his chest and push him back down flat onto the mattress. This shocks him and he moans your name, “I fucking can’t take it. The weed is making me so sensitive.”

“You’ll be fine. Let me show you,” you reply breathlessly as you straddle his legs and begin to lick up his shaft. He trembles and keens, his hips slightly lifting from the bed. You swirl your tongue around the tip making sure to leave lots of saliva behind. You fondle his cock while still licking, but never placing your mouth over it. You notice a few tears running down his cheeks, “Baby, it’s okay. Let me know if it’s too much.”

“It’ll never be too much. Too much is good, especially with you,” he struggles. He trembles when you place your lips around his tip, making a slight slurping sound. He grinds somewhat into your mouth, but not enough to thrust more of his dick into your mouth. He’s waiting for you, letting you know he wants it.

You stretch your free hand over his chest and you hold his dick in the other. You finally plunge your mouth down and he emits the sexiest noise you’ve ever had the pleasure of hearing. Your fingernails scrape him on the way down to his left hip, holding it with great strength. You rub your thumb along his hip bone as you're now deep throating him. The saliva, your lips and tongue are making the dirtiest noises which causes him to squint his eyes shut, and furrow his brow.

“God, I want to come in your mouth so badly. I also want to come on your body and inside of you,” his voice strained. You release him from your mouth to only say, “Please do. I want it. I fantasized about how you’d taste last night.” He reaches for your head to push you back down onto him. This causes you to moan which vibrates from your throat making him yelp. Your reaction to him controlling you furthers his need. He forces your head down as you come back up each time, now grasping onto your hair.

You move your hand from his hip down between your legs, because holy shit, this is fucking hot. You can feel your wetness and his come on your fingers as you begin to rub your clit under your sweater. His eyes open when your hand moves and sees how nasty you’re being. Your pace quickens on his dick and his tip begins to hit the back of your throat. Your gag reflex causes more spit to emit from your mouth onto him. Over the sounds of sucking cock you can hear him grunt out, “You’re such a dirty slut.”

You moan and your hand works his dick with more power. You can feel him throbbing and getting bigger, knowing he’s very close to coming. Your fingers rapidly circle around your engorged clit. He finally yells out, “I’m gonna come! Fuck, baby!” He releases everything he has and spurts of come drip down your throat. Your mouth continues to prolong his orgasm, he’s uncontrollably shaking and moans your name until he gets quieter and quieter. His dick becomes sensitive and you release him from your mouth. You sit up and swallow his come and wipe your saliva off your mouth with the sleeve of your sweater.

He’s gasping and trying to catch his breath, eyes are closed tight. He comes to and looks at you wide and glassy-eyed, they then roll back into his head. His chest is heaving still coming down from his high. His gaze meets yours as you’re still cleaning your face of spit. He reaches out for you and you fall into him, his arm around you, hugging you.

The last shivers and shakes subside and he kisses the top of your head that’s resting on his chest. You look up at him and smile, your eyes glinting. He looks down at you and says, “You’re quite the woman. There’s no way men aren’t breaking your door down to have you.” You cease eye contact in embarrassment and reply, “I don’t want any other men. Shit, you taste so fucking good. Your cock is delicious.”

“Please tell me you can rebound quickly, because I want your cock again. I really don’t understand what is happening to me. This amount of arousal is obscene,” you ask and sit up. “I can fuck you as many times as you want,” he says, while still laying flat on his back. “Would you like some water? I know I need some,” you ask as you stand from bed and walk to the bathroom. “Yes, please hurry. I want to feel you next to me,” he begs.

You return with a glass of water and drink half as you walk toward him with it. He sits up and guzzles the remainder. Once you sit next to him, he immediately forces his hand under your sweater and begins to massage your labia. You’re dripping, it’s covering your thighs.

“Shit, how are you still so wet?” he asks. You moan, “You. You make me this wet.” His fingers separate your labia and he begins to slide them up and down. You grab his nape and devour his plump lips. He delicately slides his fingers and rests on your quivering clit. He presses you onto your pillows with your legs open wide. He works your clit with more power and you moan aloud. He bites your bottom lip at your reaction. He moves away from you and he places his messy fingers in his mouth, licking and sucking them dry.

Your eyes roll and you shiver at his action. “You taste so fucking delicious. I really don’t know what is happening to me,” he says after cleaning your juices off. “Come here, now. Please touch me more,” you say with your dreamy bedroom eyes.

He lifts your sweater back off of you, finally able to suck and fondle your breasts again. While doing so, you lean back against the pillows and his hand goes back down to your vulva. He delicately teases you while you’re exhaling loudly. He becomes entranced by your pussy, never taking his eyes off it while he fondles you.

“Where did you learn to do this?” you ask as you notice he hasn’t looked away from your core. “I guess it’s something I’m naturally gifted at. I like to make you feel good and get off on knowing I’m making you come,” he shrugs as he leans in for a kiss.

You peek down in between moans and see his dick has gotten hard again. This puts your need into overdrive. You grind side to side on his fingers which makes him penetrate you. He eagerly fucks into you with two fingers, amazed at your reaction. You really want his cock inside you now since his fingers aren’t cutting it. It feels good and makes you feel sexy, but you want to feel stretched by his thick cock.

You’re running out of patience and place your hands on his chest, forcefully pushing him flat on the bed. He grunts out a loud ‘fuck’ and watches as you straddle him. You begin to slide your pussy back and forth on his dick with your head tilted back. He grabs at your breasts pulling your nipples.

Enough is enough and you raise your hips to grab his cock to place it at your entrance. You slowly fuck yourself onto his tip moaning, “You feel so good.” He looks deeply into your eyes as he whispers, “This is exactly what I dreamt about last night. But this is so much better. I can feel you, touch you. Fuck yourself on my dick like a good little slut.”

Your eyes roll back and you begin to shift your hips up and down, his thickness is almost too much. Your eyes glaze over when he slides his hand up to your throat again. He puts pressure on your pulse and whines when you start grinding faster. He looks down at where you meet and sees a white ring on his dick. Your pussy is dripping down onto him and you place one hand on your nipple and the other on your clit.

Your pussy begins to clench tighter and tighter around his dick. He puts his hands on your hips and starts humping to meet your thrusts, not going fast enough for him. It feels like your body is on another plane as you notice your orgasm is near.

His grip on your hip bones gets rough as does his thrusts. You go higher on your knees as your back arches and start fucking just his tip. Again, you like teasing and edging not only yourself but him. The look on his face is heavenly, half shocked at your movements and half amazed by the feeling of your tight cunt.

When you sink farther down his shaft and begin to really go for it, knowing you’re not going to last much longer. You’re now moaning his name over and over and yell, “I’m gonna come. Please come with me, Kyungsoo!”

You’re still grinding into him as your stomach flutters and the heat within builds. You’re reaching the apex and begin to sob when you snap, writhing and moaning. He feels your pussy clench so tight and this brings him over the edge. He holds your hips down and thrusts as deeply as possible. You’re both staring into each other's eyes again, coming together. The pulsing of both your pussy and his dick is otherworldly. You feel each blast of his come deep within you. He looks down to see it dripping down onto his cock and says, “I’m still coming.”

You’re still fucking yourself on his cock, wanting every ounce of his come. The throbbing of your pussy is never ending, and he starts to shiver from oversensitivity. You can’t fathom stopping and the sloppy sounds from your pussy are making it more difficult. The noise of him panting is so sexy and you finally come down from your high.

“Shit. That orgasm lasted longer than the first. At this rate, we’ll be coming for 10 minutes by next week,” you smirk down at him. He chuckles in reply, “I really think that is the most I’ve ever come before.” You want to see and rise slowly off his dick. The amount of come that drips from you is astounding, some landing on his toned stomach. You reach down and cup your fingers in an attempt to catch it. Once you do, you shove your fingers in your mouth licking and sucking as one would a popsicle.

He is speechless watching you suck his come from your fingers. When they’re clean, you lean down and start kissing him. Your hot tongues meet, and moans emit, replacing the silence in your bedroom. You lay beside him and stare into his eyes. He looks down at you smiling so wide.

“How about a shower?” you ask, “There’s still come dripping from me.” He nods and quickly sits up grabbing your hand to pull you off the bed. The bathroom light is blinding in relation to the low light from your bedroom. You are greeted by his amazing features as if you’re just now seeing him in high definition. His tan skin, his messy hair, sweat beading on his chest. And my god, those amazing and powerful lips.

He pushes his hand through his hair to get it away from his eyes. As you start the shower to let it warm up, you take a brush to your hair. It’s a matted mess from sweat and spit. You see that he feels comfortable enough to start peeing before hopping in the shower. You step in and close the curtain, letting him finish in privacy.

Within seconds, he pulls the curtain back to see you running your fingers through your hair, steam escaping. He steps in and grabs your lower back to let you know he’s there since your eyes are shut tight due to the water streaming in your face.

“Hey baby,” you say when you feel his touch. You move out from under the water to let him rinse off. His hair is slicked back which makes your insides tumble. You start shampooing your hair and he turns sideways to let you wash it off.

You grab your loofah and begin lathering it and place suds all over your body. As they drip and slide into your curves, Kyungsoo gives you a wanton look. He starts by touching your butt and squeezing then fondling your breasts. You yelp, “Hey you! That tickles!” Your reaction does not slow or stop his need. Now the steam is rising and inhibitions are falling.

Both of you are like magnets, opposites attracting. You take your loofah and start to rub it over his chest, the smell of honeysuckle filling the air. He grabs your waist as you continue to clean his body. He lightly glides his palm up your back, the sensation causing shivers.

In an instant, he turns you around and presses your chest to the shower wall, dropping your loofah in the process. He then pulls your hair down causing your head to tilt upwards. With this, your back arches making your ass stick out. You’re gasping for air since his palm is pressing your back hard against the tiles.

Without any warning he shoves his dick, hands free, between your ass. “Don’t say a word. You’re going to be my dirty whore,” he growls in your ear. You nod as best you can with his hand pulling your hair downwards.

Your palms are against the cold tiles, which causes your nipples to become hard and erect. In the next moment you feel his hard cock penetrate you. He grunts and then grabs your throat, your back arching even more, you feel like you're going to snap in half. His thickness still shocks you and at this angle, he’s reaching places he hasn’t before.

Over the noise of the shower and water hitting the tub, you yelp, “Yes! I love being your dirty whore! I’ve never felt this dirty taking a shower. Fucking use me!”

He fucks his dick faster into you, never hesitating, just full on railing you with no regard to your comfort or pain. “Do you like when I take what I want without asking?” he asks as his breath shortens between each thrust. “Yes, please. Fuck me harder!” you whine. Your ass bounces back to meet his thrusts loving the way he’s controlling you.

He delicately places kisses on your neck and behind your ear. It’s so gentle that it makes your insides boil. The juxtaposition of his soft kisses and his throbbing dick fucking into makes your vision go white. His plush lips and hot tongue on you is heavenly. You want to touch him but he has you trapped, only there for his use. He’s still fucking into you at breakneck speed, never faltering, never slowing. “I cannot stop. My dick hurts, but I can’t stop. Your pussy just feels too good,” he mumbles close to you. “You’re gonna make me come again! Faster!” you squeal against the wall.

The water sloshes between your bodies as you’re fucking each other over and over. He begins to push his dick into you and stops feeling you clench. He knows you’re going to come all over him, but he just wants to keep grinding into you. He lets go of your neck and hair and holds your hips not too tightly. He’s caressing you now as he speeds up his thrusts. He yowls as he’s getting closer to coming, “I’m going to come. I want to come on your tits and face. But please come all over my dick first. I want to feel you squeeze around me!”

You’re so far gone at this point. The steam, the water hitting your face, the cool tiles on your tits. He reaches in front of you and begins to graze over your pulsating clit. He deftly circles it and places more and more pressure. Your pussy begins to convulse and you come with a whimper, “I’m coming again! Please shove your dick in farther!” He heeds your advice and slams into you until his pelvis hits your ass. He has to hold you up due to your legs giving out from under you. You’re leaning farther and farther down and he wraps an arm around your stomach to keep you from slipping.

When you come down and open your eyes. He insists, “Fucking turn around! I’m gonna come!” You hurriedly squat down and hold onto his thighs. He starts to jerk himself and within a few strokes, he’s releasing come all over you. Mostly on your mouth and chin, and then over your chest. It drips down on your tits and then your stomach. He’s moaning and still stroking at his cock, making sure to give you everything he has. In the meantime, you dip your fingers into the come on your chest and swirl it around. He gazes down at you when you place your fingers into your mouth, sucking on them. “I love seeing you covered in my come. Fuck. This is the hottest shower I’ve ever taken,” he moans, still breathing heavily from his release.

You both rinse yourselves off and finally step out and towel off. Your body and pussy is sore from the sex marathon. “How long do you think we’ve been fucking?” he asks you while wrapping the towel around his hips. As you're drying your hair with your towel you answer, “I’m not sure. You came over a bit before nine o’clock. And what time is it now?” You step out from your bedroom and take a glance at your bedside clock, “Holy shit! It’s almost two in the morning!”

He comes out from the bathroom and starts to smile wide. “So, like four hours of raw dogging,” he jokes. “It didn’t feel like it had been that long. Luckily tomorrow is Friday,” he continues. He realizes he has nothing to wear to bed. “Did you want me to stay the night?” he asks with an honest tone. “Pretty please? You can always stay. I want to feel you next me as I sleep,” you reply, giving him puppy eyes.

He walks up to you, places his hand softly on your cheek and gives you the softest, sweetest, most chaste kiss yet. “Do you have anything I can wear? Or should I just sleep naked?” He asks as his pupils dilate. “We can sleep naked. It’s really okay, that is if you don’t mind,” you answer back with a cute smile.

You both hop into bed under the covers, getting comfortable. You of course are the little spoon as he holds you close. You turn your head behind you and ask for a kiss. His deep eyes agree and he gives you a precious kiss. “Thank you. Now I’ll be able to sleep better,” you say after turning back around. He nods in agreement. “Good night, baby. I’ll be dreaming about you,” he whispers. And you’re both out like a light.

/////

Your alarm startles you awake. You grumble and shove your head back under the blanket. You don’t have to be at work until nine o’clock, but set your alarm for seven. This gives you plenty of time to get ready, eat breakfast, and make coffee with some time to spare. Just as your eyes begin to close, you pop your head out from the blanket, eyes wide. You remember spending a wonderful night with Kyungsoo. You start grinning as you remember more and more. Getting drunk, getting high, fucking over and over again. You’re sure you remember falling asleep next to him.

You roll over and see the space empty. Your heart sinks, and your mind is awash with everything you confided. He promised he wouldn’t leave after getting his dick wet. Your mind is reeling as now you’re two for two. Feeling used all for a night of passion and then he’s gone, just like you knew he’d be. You begin to quietly sob into your pillow, not sure how you’re going to face the day. I fucking knew this would happen, why did I place my heart in his hands?, you think as you’re beginning to cry harder.

You muster all the strength you can to get out of bed. Your legs and muscles hurt due to last night, which only makes things worse. Visions of drinking, kissing, and laughing fill your head. His lips on yours and your pussy, your neck, your breasts make you heave over the bathroom sink. You take a deep breath trying so hard to get it together to greet the workday. It’s Friday and at least, your workload screeches to a halt by then. You hope you can sulk at your desk and be miserable in peace. Your coworkers don’t notice or ask any questions. It’s just eight hours, you can do it. Then you can mope in the comfort of your empty apartment.

You start to wash your face, then brush your teeth, and finally dress yourself albeit mindlessly. Your thoughts keep going back to Kyungsoo through your routine. You’re not hungry. How could anyone eat with a broken heart? As you grab your purse and phone from the kitchen counter, you notice the silence, it is deafening. You expected to wake up to his hugs and his beautiful voice. Goddamnit.

/////

You trudge to work, taking the bus, getting there just in time. A heavy sigh escapes as you sit in your office chair behind your desk. You coworkers glance at you, feeling your depressive mood and decide not to pry or greet you.

In between typing and making copies, you pick up your phone wondering if you should text Kyungsoo. You wonder if you should really lay into him or just send a simple ‘Good morning’ text. You can’t decide and abandon the idea altogether. It’s almost lunch time at this point and you’ve yet to hear from him.

Just as you were about to run into the bathroom to have a good cry, your phone vibrates, a text from him. It reads: “I am so sorry I left. I was called into work, some ridiculous emergency with the boss. I’ve only just now had a free moment and wanted to let you know that I miss you.”

You scoff at first, thinking if any of what he typed was true. You don’t even know what he does for work, so you’re not sure if it is a lie or not. You don’t really care what people do for work which is why it never came up last night, but now you regret not asking.

Carefully thinking of how to respond to his text you decide, “It’s fine. I’m at work right now.” A bit short and pointed. You really want to see if he actually cares or is telling the truth.

“Are you sure you’re fine? I’m sorry, really, very sorry,” he texts back and sends another immediately, “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so beautiful.” Your lips purse as you respond back, “You know what I told you last night? Well, I woke up to a nightmare. I really thought you were gone forever. I’m so scared right now. Are you telling me the truth?”

“Why would I even text you now if I wanted nothing more to do with you? I apologize. I’ve been thinking about you nonstop until I was able to send a text.”

“I don’t know what to believe. I sobbed all morning thinking you had disappeared from my life. The feeling of turning over and not seeing you there made my stomach drop. I didn’t think I was able to make it into work. It was bad,” you type back. You start receiving important emails that need attention and place your phone down to start.

Time slips away as you realize you’ve worked through lunch and now are able to take a break. Your phone buzzed with many missed texts, all of them from Kyungsoo. “I am so sorry. Can I make it up to you? Wanna go out tonight for a nice dinner?”

And then another, “Please answer me. I can’t tell you how awful I feel. I should have written you a note. I fucked up, but I’m telling the truth.” And again just 10 minutes ago, “Baby, please. Are you there?”

You take a deep breath and start to respond, “I believe you, it’s just my mind goes into the worst case scenario for everything. Yes, let’s get dinner tonight. Sorry, pretty busy at work for a Friday. I miss you.” You sign with a kissy face emoji.

Still a bit anxious about his texts, there’s still a lingering feeling that he isn’t telling the truth. You decide to brush it off and stop catastrophizing everything. You busy yourself until finally, it’s done. You speed walk to the bus, then speed walk home.

/////

You see another text from him as you’re getting ready, “How is 7:30 tonight?”

“Sounds great. Should I dress up? Fancy or casual?” you ask him as you’re perusing your closet. He types quickly, “It’ll be at my place. I’m going to cook you something to tell you how very sorry I am.”

“Shit, really?! Question still stands though” you excitedly type back.

“How about nothing? :-) But really whatever you’d like. Whatever you wear, you’ll be beautiful.”

His cheeky reply makes you turn red and your stomach flips. “All right, mister. Don’t get any big ideas. See you at 7:30.”

“I got something big for you.” He ended with a winky face.

Well, fuck. Here we go again, you think. Imagining all of the nasty things you could reply with and deciding to leave him on read. That’ll let his mind wander.

You finally opt for a nice, black A line dress. It goes right to your knees and hugs your waist fantastically. It’s not too fancy, simple yet classic. You want to make a good impression since he’s going to all the trouble of cooking you dinner tonight. You decide to leave your hair down and not too much makeup. Some mascara, blush, and lip gloss is enough. You know it’s just going to get ruined later when you’re sucking his dick. This makes you imagine what his place looks like. Is it minimal, cluttered, cozy? You feel giddy when you remember he has two dogs. You love animals and prefer cats, but you’re excited nonetheless.

He sends you his location which is about a 30 minute commute on the bus. He then tells you he hired a cab that should be there at seven on the dot to take you to his apartment. This makes you swoon, but also he’s really trying to make up for his fuck-up.

/////

You arrive at his building and press his name. In the elevator ride up, you start fidgeting with your dress and touching your hair out of nervousness. The butterflies in your stomach become overwhelming, you start to feel hot, like you’re about to vomit. Then you take deep breaths, counting to 10 with each exhale. Your palms are sweaty too. Why are you like this? It’s just Kyungsoo. He’s fucked the life out of you, you’ve showered together, and slept together. Stop being like this, you yell inside your head.

You knock on his door and hear the muffled barks of his dogs. In a moment he opens the door. You’re greeted by the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He has on black slacks, a white button up with the sleeves rolled up, all covered by an olive green apron. The best part is his black round-framed glasses that showcase his large eyes. You’re struck by the smell that wafts toward you, smells so delicious.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he says instantly, his eyes darting up and down your figure. “I was just about to say the same,” you respond, blushing at his compliment. “Come in please. Have a seat. Would you like a drink? And don’t mind the dogs, once they smell you, they’ll go lie down in the other room.”

You meekly walk in and have a seat at the kitchen island. The stove is right there and you see all the ingredients laid out neatly. “Beer, water, wine, or soda?” He asks as he stirs a pot of pasta. “I’ll have some wine, thank you.” You hope this will ease your nerves.

You stare around his apartment while he uncorks and pours you a glass. It’s very cozy. Not a thing out of place, quite minimal. It feels very warm, you start feeling more comfortable. He sets your glass down in front of you and says, “How do you like chicken cacciatore?” You smile, “I actually love it. It’s very rustic. My grandfather used to make it all the time.”

His eyes get big, “Uh oh, I have a lot to live up to I guess,” and he smirks. “Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll love it.” After he pulls the dish from the oven to let it cool. There’s a lull to which he fills by walking over to you. A watched pot, they say. You turn your head, following his every movement. He reaches abruptly for your neck and places a kiss on your lips. This surprises you, and you lean into him, not wanting it to stop. His tongue meets yours as you open your mouth. The kiss has turned greedy and passionate. You begin to moan as his hand rakes through your hair.

Finally parting, you whine, “Can we get through dinner first?” He chuckles, “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I fucking missed you. Your face, your smell, your lips.”

You look down with embarrassment all over your cheeks. “I missed you too, then I found out you’re still into me.”

He apologizes profusely and comes back to shower you with kisses. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I really fucked up. My plan was to make breakfast for you this morning, but work screwed that all up. Please forgive me.”

“I forgive you. How could I not when you’re kissing me like that and cooking me dinner? And when you’re looking like a meal yourself. You’re so hot right now. Especially with your sleeves rolled up like that,” you digress and sip your wine.

Sitting at the table, you both dig in. The chicken is juicy and flavorful and the side of spaghetti and bread he prepared rivals your grandfather’s. You both eat without much conversing. You’re both comfortable without needing to fill the silence. Plus, you are starving and you know he is too after a long hard day at work.

He cleans up and asks, “Would you like to watch a movie?” You give him a look which he takes to mean, put on a movie then not pay attention to it after 20 minutes. You nod and walk towards his couch. He sits close to you and props his feet on the coffee table, sipping back a beer.

“Is this for dessert?” you question while lifting your dress up your thighs, exposing yourself. You give him heavy eyes, waiting for him to tongue you down. Let’s hope he takes the bait. How much self control did he have? Your heart begins to thump faster.

He looks down to see the top of thighs exposed, begging him to touch it. Your hips gyrate and your thighs press together. He looks up to lean into your mouth. Before he can touch his lips to yours he says, “And here’s yours,” kissing you deeply. Your eyes squint open and look down at him palming himself through his pants. You smirk into the kiss and he bites your bottom lip. Disconnecting you say, “I can’t fucking wait.” Now you’re breathless and panting, “Best dessert ever.”

/////

He surprises you by swiftly grabbing your hand and dragging you into his room. He swings you onto the bed, your dress flipping up as your ass meets the bed. You straighten it out, afraid you just flashed him. He’s standing three feet away from you. His hand goes into his pants pocket, grabbing his phone. “Some music?” You ask him, deep down knowing the answer is no. “I want to record you. And us. I want something to remember you by,” he says in a serious voice, holding up his phone. You hear the shutter a handful of times. “Pictures too? What do you want me to do?” You awkwardly ask.

“What do you have under that dress? I’ve been fantasizing all night,” he asks, unbuttoning his shirt. You see the camera light reflect off of his ceiling to floor windows, not a curtain in sight. You look behind you and see other peoples’ TVs, laptops, and lamps that could be easily seen from across the courtyard.

You look forward again to see his shirt is off, holding the phone down at his side. His dark gaze has a whimper getting caught in your throat. He’s walking toward you, “Let me see,” he says, removing your hands from your lap to lift your dress. Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth. Getting closer to you, he mumbles, “Does it make you wet thinking of all the people watching me fuck you?” He pauses then says louder, “Tell me. Are you wet? They’re all going to know you’re mine.”

Your face is flush and you begin to rock your hips back and forth at the edge of the bed. “Yes. I’m yours. Show them,” you say in a raspy tone, completely aroused. Where did this exhibitionism fetish come from, you think to yourself? You’re leaking from your panties and your thighs are slick.

He stands in front of you and slowly reaches for the hem of your dress, reaching beneath. He groans when he feels how wet you’ve gotten, your underwear completely drenched, sticking to your pussy. “So fucking wet. Dirty baby,” his chest rumbles.

He holds his phone up to record you. Your head is thrown back in ecstasy, moaning and grinding against his hand. He wants this when he’s lonely, if he has to travel, or is sick, he has these momentos. He slides both edges of your panties between your slit. He pulls up and sees your engorged clit peeking from under the satin. Still pulling up on your panties, he places three fingers across your clit, rubbing slightly.

You moan loudly and tightly shut your eyes, still moving your hips. You place both arms around his neck to bring his soft lips to yours. Now laying back he settles over you, pressing his weight into you. You grind up again on his hard dick that’s straining in his pants. He throws the phone so he can use that hand to slide your panties to the side. “You did wear something underneath your dress,” he states as if he’s really baiting you. He wants to hear your dirty thoughts and mouth.

“Did you think I wasn’t?” you ask incredulously. “I actually debated on whether or not to wear panties. On one hand, I’m your slut. On the other hand, I wanted to tease you and make you work for it,” you finish as he sits up and begins to tease your slit with his fingertips.

“That’s right baby. I knew you wanted my dick. You have no idea how difficult it is to hide a boner from your boss and coworkers. Luckily there were folders and binders that helped. Point is, I’ve been hard all day because of you. The feeling of your pussy on my dick. Your moans and yelps. Your smell. Fuck, I’m so goddamn hard right now. I’ve been saving it for you.” His fingers are still sliding up and down your wet pussy lips.

You move your ass up and down off the bed to match his strokes. You arch your back up and whine aloud, “Fuck that was hot what you said. Hard all day? Because of me?” What you say is barely audible due to your breathlessness. “Yes, you. I want you to come on my fingers, baby,” he asks sweetly as he thrusts his middle and ring fingers, palm up, deep into your pussy.

In shock at the sudden intrusion, you whimper and tears fill your eyes, threatening to drop down your cheeks. “Oh my god, that feels so good. Yes please, more,” you yelp. He listens to you and thrusts quicker into your clenching pussy. His hand is already covered in your sticky wetness, making obscene noises. While flicking his fingers upward, he places his thumb over your clit and you’re whimpering again, like a wounded animal.

He sits back onto his heels, getting a better view of your pussy. He pushes your left thigh up, spreading you out further. You help him by holding your thigh. He grabs his phone quickly and starts recording. “Baby please. Come for me. You look so beautiful,” he begs, adding a third finger inside you.

“Oh my god, yes! Please, I’m gonna come!” You’re yelling now, with eyes closed. “Look at me. Open your eyes. I want to see you come,” he commands. Your stomach tenses up, your knees go straight, and your hand grabs onto the sheets as you come. You’re moaning his name and ‘baby’ over and over again. Your cheeks and neck are flushed then you start to convulse, your pussy clenching and oozing all over his fingers. “Fuck baby, that was so hot,” he says, eyes wide as he puts his phone back down. “I’m definitely watching that one all the time,” he winks at you. He takes his fingers out, licks them dry and then slaps your clit.

Surprised and over sensitive, you whine out, “Fuck!” Now it sounds like you’re about to cry. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. Are you okay?” he asks and places his palm on your cheek. He leans in to kiss you and when you are separating you answer, “Yes. That was fucking sexy. That felt so good. Do it again.”

He does it again, but first he rips the black satin underwear off of you. He then forcefully pushes your knees apart, your legs wide open. The slaps he gives to your clit migrate to your inner thighs. Your pussy is wet and raw and there’s red handprints on your legs. The look in his eyes is depraved. He alternates slapping your labia to entering a couple of fingers inside you. It’s just for a few thrusts, teasing you until you grab his forearm.

You sit up and climb onto his lap. He twists you both and then you suddenly force him down. “My turn,” you say as you grab his phone to start recording. He strips off his pants and underwear, raising his hips with you top up in the air. You slowly start to slide your wet slit over his dick. He moans, his chest resonating, “Shit. You love this.” He grabs a handful of your breast pulling your dress down, pinching your nipple hard. He lifts your dress and pulls it off over your head.

Your free hand reaches up to trace his plump lips. He bites on your fingertip and you place your finger inside. His eyes never look away from your gaze as he sucks on your finger. Your pussy is still sliding back and forth on his impossibly hard cock. He’s been hard all day and never thought to relieve himself? “Do you want to fuck me?” you say in a sexy tone, your voice breaking at the end.

“Fuck. Turn around. Get on your hands and knees, now,” he requests, in a rageful tone. You listen immediately, assuming the position. You arch your back, sticking your ass out, legs parted wide. “Give it to me. I want your dick,” you say as you look back over your shoulder, resting on your elbows.

He takes hold of his shaft and slaps it over your wet entrance. Your butt wiggles at the contact and you whine, “Please baby.” He strokes his head over your slit, gathering all your juices. He places his tip at your vagina, he leans back to get a better view. He places just his tip inside, popping into your entrance. You both make prolonged groans of each others’ names. You move your ass back to take more of his dick, all of this teasing has you impatient.

He mutters, “Holy shit baby. Can’t wait, can you?” You start fucking back on his dick, he halts his thrusts. “You like when I fuck myself on your cock? I want it all the time,” you moan out as you look behind you at him. He’s mesmerized by his dick fucking into you, then he looks up. He brushes his bangs back, that sexy gesture again. It turns him on so much when you’re saying disgusting things to him.

Not able to take this much longer, he starts stroking into you with a skillful movement. He circularly gyrates into your pulsating pussy. He yells out, “I’m gonna come inside you! Please keep squeezing my dick! It’s so tight!” You clench around him and moan into the blanket, “I’m coming too, baby! Come in me!” You hope he hears you and in the next couple of thrusts, you come, clenching him tightly, then pulsating around his throbbing dick. You feel his come spurt into you over and over each time you pulse around him. He’s breathing heavily, leaning down, bangs in his eyes again.

He reaches to stroke his bangs back, this makes you moan again, lurching forward. Your legs go together and you fall onto your stomach. He smacks your ass and lands on his side next to you. He rubs his hand across your back causing you to shiver. He places his mouth to yours, smashing together in post coital intimacy.

He rubs his nose along yours lightly, “I really like you,” he smiles. “I really like you,” you repeat as you turn onto your side, knees bent, touching his.

The smile he gives you could rival all other smiles on the planet. You’re not one for hyperbole, but really. His eyes light up, his lips making the cutest heart, his cheeks asking to be pinched. He leans in again to make out with you, your lips are irresistible to him. He starts to peck kisses onto your mouth, then your cheeks, then your shoulder. He rubs over each kiss he leaves, not able to control himself.

You stretch out as his touch leaves you with goosebumps. You reach for his chin and stop him, “I think we gave the neighbors quite a show. Is this the encore?” He blushes as he remembers he never got around to buying curtains. “No, this is the intermission,” with that trademark smile.

————————————

Do you want another part? Any requests would be great!

#kyungsoo #kyungsoo exo #kyungsoo smut #kyungsoo x reader #exo smut #exo #d.o. kyungsoo #d.o. smut #d.o exo #slow burn #smut #kpop smut #exo fanfic #kyungsoo fanfic #doh kyungsoo

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meddling-in-horror · 11 months

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I Changed My Thesis

Originally, my history BA thesis was going to be deconstructing the Starz/Sky TV collaboration Penny Dreadful.

I changed it.

I had been forcing my way through the show to make notes for my work, but then one day I started thinking about Bill Gunn’s ‘Ganja and Hess’ way too much and it changed my whole concept.

Now, I’ll be writing my thesis on linguistic violence against women and the monstrous feminine in horror, examining terminology used against women and how those words are contextualized historically within horror as a genre.

There’s a lot of material to cover in this paper, as I already have over 50 sources, but to give an idea of what I’m looking at, the following are the movies I’ll be using for the paper:

Am I Quiet Enough For You Yet? Audition (1999) Last Night in Soho (2021)

...Will Still Become a Wolf When the Autumn Moon is Bright Ginger Snaps (2000) The Company of Wolves (1984)

I Drank All the Blood That I Could Ganja and Hess (1973) A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night (2014)

Holy Water Cannot Help You Now Def By Temptation (1990) Possession (1981)

They Come to Drink, They Come to Dance, to Sacrifice a Human Heart The Lure (2015) She-Creature (2001)

Burned But Not Buried This Time The Craft (1996) The VVitch (2015)

So stay tuned for ‘At Least You’ll Sanctify Me When I’m Dead: A History of Linguistic Violence Against Women and the Monstrous Feminine Within Horror’.

This is gonna be fun.

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eyelikemthicc · 1 year

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 9 months

Text

The Fox and The Viper: The Moon

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific Warnings: sexual assault/rape threat(no follow through), gore, blood, death, eventual smut, slooooow burn, drinking, alcohol excess. (Let me know if I missed any!) (Mam-gu = grandmother/grandma in Welsh, anywlyd is a term of endearment, Bore da is good morning)

(Yeah, I caved, I needed to get this out, next chapter will be released on the original release date (12th august) I hope you like it!) Line dividers: Designed by macrovector / Freepik edited by me

Chapter 1 – The Moon

Hari Owens bolts awake, sweat heavy on her brow as her chest heaves from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Lightning arcs across the sky outside her window, the storm had been picking up momentum all day and had clearly reached its apex. But the storm wasn’t what woke her. She groans and looks to her nightstand to see her phone on it’s charging stand. The screen lights up as she moves.

04:17am

“Shit, might as well get up.” She breathes to herself, running her fingers through her long hair, brushing it out of her eyes as she resigns to another night of lost sleep. Hari rolls out of her single bed and crosses the small distance from her tiny bedroom, through the minuscule open plan kitchen-living room into to the even smaller bathroom.

The smell of mould and bleach makes her nose crinkle as she turns on the shower. The flat seemed to always have a bad smell about it, no matter how hard she cleaned. As she steps into the shower the vision of her nightmare flashes to the front of her mind.

The red snake coils around her neck, forked tongue skittering against her jaw as the smell of orange blossom and some heady incense threatens to suffocate her. It’s the same dream every time, she can’t recall when it first started but it couldn’t have been more than two months ago, but every Thursday night the nightmare retuned. It had started as just a pair of green reptilian eyes, staring at her through the gloom. Then the body of the snake had begun to wrap around her leg in one dream, then her torso in another, finally it reached her neck.

But this time it was different, there was a black and silver lion, a giant straw-yellow wolf and a single black deer snapping at her feet. Each is desperate to reach the snake, raking at her body with white hot claws, teeth like knives, and brutal crushing antlers.

As soon as blood had been drawn from her skin the snake struck at the wolf, sending it careening into the darkness. Next the deer was crushed by the tight coiling body of the snake. Finally, the lion was blinded by venom before the snake devoured it whole. As she forced herself to wake from the nightmare, she saw the snake shift and warp into the outline of a man, clothed in leather armour holding a spear.

Hari swears to herself as the water runs cold, the boiler had been acting up all week, and the frigid sheets of water were the last thing she needed this morning. She turns the shower off, shuddering as she wraps a towel around her before calling her grandmother, setting the call to speaker so she could get ready at the same time.

“Bore da Hari, what are you doing up this early?” Her grandmother’s coarse voice crackles through the phone. Hari’s lips curve up into a smile as she brushes her long copper hair into a high ponytail.

“Bore da Mam-gu,” She responds, loving being able to reply with the limited Welsh she knew, “Nightmares again, getting really vivid too.” Hari responds, wiping her face with a flannel washcloth before tucking the phone under her ear as she returns to her bedroom.

“The snake one again? Foresight doesn’t run in the family anywlyd, are you sure you’re not just smoking too much Ganja?” Hari can’t help but smile at the outdated term and the brass balls on her grandmother.

“No Mam-gu, and no-one says Ganja anymore,” Hari rolls her eyes at her delightfully out of date grandmother, “But no, I’m not smoking too much pot. This is the same as when Mum passed, I get the same sweats, the same rush of Power in my veins.” Hari explains, knowing her witch of a grandmother would understand. Carys Owens, or Mam-gu as she often demanded to be called, was a witch gifted with The Knowledge, a way of knowing things about the world, about people that was honed over eight decades of experience and training.

“This is troubling, and with Samhain tonight this is a bad omen cariad, you’re not going out tonight are you?” Mam-gu warns and Hari worries at her bottom lip with her teeth as she shimmies into tight black and silver yoga pants and a matching sports bra before zipping her work hoodie over the top.

“I’ve got a work thing, I’ll make sure I don’t say out past midnight.” Hari says, already cringing from the inevitable scolding from her grandmother.

“I will be calling you at midnight cariad, you best be tucked up in bed with the doors locked and windows shut.” Mam-gu warns and Hari falters for a second, pausing in her search for her trainers.

“I expected to be forbidden from leaving the house, by threat of wooden spoon, you getting soft Mam-gu?” She teases, hoping to get a rise out of the old woman.

“You’re almost thirty Angharad Sian Owens, you have to make your own decisions, but please, be careful.” Mam-gu’s voice is full of concern and Hari takes a deep breath as she spots her trainers under the bed.

“I promise, I’ll check in with you when I get home tonight. Rwy’n dy garu di.” She adds.

“I love you too cariad, now get going, those weights won’t lift themselves!” Mam-gu says and Hari can hear the smile in her croaky tone. Mam-gu is exerting The Knowledge casually over her, and even through the phone she can home in on a person to excruciating detail.

“It’s so weird when you do that Mam-gu, speak later.” Hari chuckles as she hangs up the call, slipping in her air pods and shouldering her rucksack. Whilst she had chatted with her Mam-gu she had stuffed clothes for work and outfit for the Halloween party around her work laptop.

She locks her door, psyching herself up with a few stretches before the ghostly image of the man in leather armour flashes through her mind. She shakes the image from her thoughts, already selecting a pop-punk workout mix as she begins the descent down the fourteen flights down to the street below.

Hari grunts as she finishes her last rep of deadlifts, her muscles shaking with exertion as she releases the Olympic bar. She always finishes on deadlifts, something about the workout gave her a buzz, a sense of achievement. She swipes her towel from the floor and pats herself down before grabbing the cleaning solution and paper towels from the station to her right.

That’s when she sees them, her heart sinks as she continues wiping down the bar and weights before returning them to the racks. Marcus, John, and the third guy who’s name she could never remember always came in like a pack of stray dogs.

“Hey look it’s your girlfriend Dan!” Marcus, the bullish one of the group, all muscle, no neck, and hair like mouldy straw. He was the largest of them all, and Hari always guessed was the most likely to be juicing on steroids. Dan strides over to her, crowding her space as she backs up towards the racks of weights behind her. John mopes behind the pair, dark hair pulled into a short pony tail, eyes averted as the other two flank her on both sides.

“Hey there Hari, you finishing up? Don’t want to put on a show for us today?” Dan drawls, looking her up and down with a predatory gaze. The proximity unsettles Hari, Dan’s reddish-brown hair was slicked back, the smell of too much gel burning Angharad’s nostrils as she backs up slowly from him.

“I need to get to work, please, get out of the way.” Hari says, eyes defiant as she stares Dan down, but her heart is hammering in her chest, if she wasn’t already sweating from the workout she would be now. Dan had pushed her boundaries often, but this was more sinister, calculated.

“Work, work, work,” Dan mocks her with a sing-song tone, “All you do is work, no wonder you’re so uptight.” He steps further into her personal space, the odour of cheap body spray and smell of cigarettes nauseating as Hari’s hand falls to the weight rack behind her. Her fingertips brush against the cast iron plates, feeling for one of the lighter ones, just in case.

“I’m going out tonight actually,” She retorts, trying to diffuse the situation as she grips what she thinks is a 5kg plate, “So I’ll be sure to unwind then.” The rush of her own blood in her ears is deafening as she watches Dan’s lips curve up into a sinister smile.

“Maybe we’ll see you out there, help you get rid of some of that tension?” Dan purrs, placing a hand on her arm.

“Hey!” A masculine voice shouts from across the gym and Hari lets go of the breath she had been holding in, “Hari you alright over there? These guys bothering you?”

“Actually John,” She says, a glint in her eye as she looks up into Dan’s cold dark eyes, “They’ve been harassing me for weeks, I’d like to make a complaint.”

“Fucking bitch, don’t you dare.” Dan growls, his grip tightens on her arm as she stares defiantly up at him.

“Alright guys, back off,” John’s voice booms across the lofty room as he strides over to the group, “I’m letting you off with a warning this time, but you bother her again I’m suspending your membership, permanently.” John squares up to Dan, who still had a firm grip on Angharad’s arm. His broad, well built body towers over Dan as Angharad smiles to herself.

“Alright old man, we’ll leave her alone, probably a frigid bitch anyway.” Dan scoffs, throwing Hari’s arm from his grip before sauntering off with his lackeys in tow.

“You should have said something Hari, I don’t want anyone feeling threatened in my gym.” John scolds her gently but she simply shakes her head.

“It’s alright, I mostly just avoid them, but I would like to lodge that complaint.” Hari says with a smile and he nods in agreement.

“Alright come on, got a few forms for you to sign.” John says as he places a kind hand on her shoulder, steering her towards his office.

The Mountain strikes from high, with crushing blows that would cleave a man in two, but Oberyn knows this game too well, he voids his body to and fro, slipping past the lumbering giant of a man. His spear strikes the sword away, time and time again, until the haft shatters. He spins away from his opponent, theatrics and prideful boasting at it’s finest as he crosses the piste to collect another spear from his squire.

Sweat beads on Oberyn’s brow as the exertion from the fight begins to show. Again and again, he taunts the Mountain, commanding him to confess, to admit to the monstrous acts he committed upon Oberyn’s kin. But every time, The Mountain only responds with further acts of brutal violence. Again and again, he baits, feints, and slashes at The Mountain’s enormous form. Blood spurts across the stone floor as The Viper’s spear tears through the gaps in The Mountain’s armour. The back of the knee, the waist, the neck. All targeted and executed with surgeon-like precision. Finally, growing tired of the silence from his opponent, Oberyn feints high before embodying his moniker, he coils back before launching a beautiful, deadly strike to The Mountain’s chest.

The giant falls with a booming crunch, blood already pooling from the deep wound as Oberyn stalks around his prey. He laughs, without humour, at the dying man and in a moment of sheer, pitiful hubris, pushes his foe too far.

“You’re dying? No, no, you can’t die yet, you haven’t confessed! Admit it, say her name!” He roars as the spear tears from The Mountain’s chest as he dances away. The triumph swelling in his breast as he lords his victory over the man who raped and murdered his sister and killed his nieces and nephews. The Mountain’s hand moves at inhuman speed, gripping The Viper with ease before yanking him down on top of him.

Time seems to slow as Oberyn’s sees the blow coming. The large, armoured fist of the monster who caused his dear family so much pain, so much anguish, would hit with such force he knew he could not bear. He braces for it, stealing one final glance at Ellaria as he realises his fatal mistake. His face is set into a sad smile as he remembers her final words to him.

“Do not leave me alone in this world.”

I am sorry my love.

The Viper closes his eyes.

“Pop, I really don’t like this kind of stuff, it feels disrespectful.” Hari grumbles but nothing stops Poppy Jones when she wants something.

“I’ll just get a reading then, you can just sit with me, please?” Poppy stops in her tracks, her blonde curls bouncing as she comes to a halt by the entrance to the stall. She’s dressed like Alice in Wonderland, well, a liberal interpretation of it with way too much cleavage to really be appropriate for a work function, but Poppy never seemed to mind the ogling looks or inappropriate stares.

Hari on the other hand had settled on going as Merida from Brave. Sporting a custom-made navy and gold gown with a high neckline made to resemble an older Merida which flows perfectly over her muscular body. Her hair falls in long copper waves, a bronze circlet with a fake emerald set in the middle rests just above her thick brows. A thick leather belt pulls the gown together, completing the look.

“Fine.” Hari says with a dramatic roll of her eyes and Poppy squeals in delight as she drags her work bestie over to the two chairs sat opposite the Tarot Reader.

“Good evening ladies, are you here to have your Tarot read?” Hari blinks slowly, the familiar feeling of Power buzzes in the air as she regards the woman across the table.

“Me, please!” Poppy says eagerly, sipping on her fourth vodka martini of the night as she scoots forward on the chair. Hari nurses her beer, a local ale, malty and bitter on her tongue as she tries to figure out what the Tarot reader’s game is.

“I’m just here for emotional support.” Hari says dismissively but she can’t shake the look the old woman gives her. Those dark blue eyes seem to look straight into Hari’ soul, something Mam-gu always managed with her use of The Knowledge.

I know you’re a witch, Angharad Owens, be patient and see me after this reading.

The woman’s voice echoes around Hari’s head like an old-school radio transmission, distorted and crackling, but nonetheless clear. She chokes on her beer, spluttering as she pulls her free hand up to her mouth, eyes narrowed at the old witch before her.

She watches the older woman like a hawk the whole time, studying the cards intently as the reading went on. To her surprise, the reading is as authentic as possible, a few gasps and muttered nonsense-phrases to sell the act, but the witch was the real deal, the hum of Power that filled the air as she read is all the proof Hari needs. Hari rubs the back of her neck nervously, something felt off, she couldn’t tell what, but her heart pounds in her chest like an angry wasp trapped beneath an upended glass.

“Why don’t you get yours read Hari? Come on, I got a great result!” Poppy pleads, usually Hari wouldn’t give into her peer pressure but the amulet around the witch’s neck gives her pause. A red serpent with emerald eyes.

The Viper.

“Alright, please, read my Tarot, Mistress-?” Hari fishes, looking to be respectful but also wanting to have a name to relay back to Mam-gu when she got home.

“Arielle.” The witch smiles, her teeth pearly white and pristine. The sight sends shivers down Hari’ spine.

“Mistress Arielle, please read my cards.” Hari sets down her beer, placing her hands flat on the table, eyes fixed on the cards as Arielle shuffles them. The cards are a glossy, iridescent purple with hints of black, indigo, and teal green as the light catches them. A pair of snakes, locked devouring one another in a perfect circle are set in shaped in gold-leaf against the swirling darkness.

“What do you want to know?” Arielle asks, and Hari takes a deep breath, stilling her mind as she had been taught. Mam-gu was blessed with The Knowledge so Tarot was something Hari was well versed in, even if she was terrible at reading other people’s cards.

Start with something easy, mundane.

“Where is my career going?” She asks calmly as the witch’s lips twitch involuntarily, as if she expected something more.

Slowly, Arielle flips the first card over, The Chariot, Reversed.

“There’s turbulence in your future, you lack direction and must seek out a new path, but that does not always spell disaster, it could be just the shift you’ve needed.” Arielle says calmly, Hari fights the urge to roll her eyes, a very generic answer to a very generic question. But she didn’t expect much more so she let Arielle continue.

The second card is drawn, The Magician.

“Your move is to one of creativity, a book? A manuscript you wish to write? That is the way things are moving towards.” Arielle says with a knowing look in her eye but Hari still doesn’t buy it.

Who isn’t writing a book or a screenplay these days?

She thinks to herself as the final card is drawn.

The Devil, Reversed.

“This path will set you free, to explore the truth you have been neglecting.” Arielle finishes and smiles sweetly at the pair. Poppy is bored, the attention is no longer on her and her drink is balefully empty.

“Come on Hari, that was fun, let’s get another drink!” Poppy says as she stands, tugging on Angharad’s sleeve but Angharad doesn’t move. Every flip of the cards was filled with Power that emanated from the small woman opposite her, this was no parlour trick or con-man’s deception. Arielle was gifted in the same way Mam-gu is, and that both intrigues and terrifies Hari.

“Go on without me, I’ll meet you at the bar.” Hari says without taking her eyes off the witch before her.

“I thought you said this was disrespectful or something?” Poppy pouts but has already let go of Hari’ arm.

“I’ve changed my mind, go on I won’t be long.” She says and it’s all Poppy needs before heading off to the bar, swaying only a little as she does so.

“So, you still think I’m a hack?” Arielle asks, her sweet old lady voice gone, replaced by a no-nonsense, scolding tone that had Hari thinking of Mam-gu.

“You’re a witch, you have the Power, let’s just say I’m not as sceptical as before.” Hari says slowly, her beer warming on the table next to her but she didn’t want to drink it, not right now.

“And you’re a witch too, but you don’t believe it do you?” Arielle responds, already re-shuffling the deck, as if already following Hari’s thought process.

“I’ve never manifested the Power, not really.” Hari admits, a blush spreading across her cheeks as she admits her deep shame to a complete stranger. She was the first in her family not to manifest one way or another, but she did have the Sight, the ability to see the supernatural and the Sense, the ability to feel Power being worked in the world around her.

“Except when you dream.” Arielle pries knowingly and Hari’ eyes go wide in shock.

“What do you know of my dreams?” Hari’ voice is a harsh whisper as she leans forward towards the witch, a spark of anger awakening in the back of her mind.

“Why don’t we find out?” Arielle chuckles softly as she shuffles the deck once more.

The first card is drawn and Hari’ mouth goes dry. The Moon.

“Illusions and intuition, foresight if I’ve ever seen it, that’s what your dreams are are they not? Warnings of what is to come, the Power leaving you breathless and slick with sweat as you wake?”

Hari can’t form words so simply nods, the air is close and the sound of the storm outside rocks the ballroom from without. Arielle draws the second card.

The Chariot, Reversed.

“Aggression, lack of control. Your dreams have you unable to fight back a dangerous foe, or foes.” Arielle nods, no longer looking for confirmation from Hari as she reads, the hum of the Power is like a high-pitched whine in Hari’s ears as she clenches her jaw in pain. Arielle continues unprompted.

The Tower.

“This is troubling, disaster comes with your dreams, sudden upheaval and pain.” Arielle’s smile has faded, as if this wasn’t already known to her. She looks up into Hari’ eyes with sorrow, “I’m sorry Angharad, I don’t know how to help you, but we could do another reading, seek some clarity?”

“Please.” Is all Hari can muster as the dream manifests in her mind again, but this time she’s waking, it’s as if the scene plays out behind Arielle in the darkness of the back room behind her. The red viper is now a man, clad in leather, fighting off three faceless men with animal heads. The wolf, the lion, the stag. The scene continues to play on a loop as Arielle draws the next set of cards.

The Hanged Man, Reversed.

“Needless Sacrifice, but not your own, someone else’s but the act is interlocked with your fate.” Arielle’s voice is barely more than a whisper as she moves through the next card.

The Lovers.

“This confirms my previous statement, who ever is sacrificing needlessly is united with you. You and they are bound to the same fate.” She draws the final card.

The Fool.

“But not all is lost, this person will change your fate, and you theirs. They are a free spirit to your rigidity, a beacon of new hope, if you can withstand the events to come you will be reborn anew, whole once more.” Arielle finishes and sags back on her chair, her pupils dilated so much her irises have all but disappeared.

“Arielle, are you ok?” Hari asks, leaping up to steady the old woman as she threatens to fall from her seat.

“You are a special child, a child of woe and sadness, but it is not all you are, nor all you will be. Thank you for letting me read your Tarot, it was one of the most fulfilling of my entire life.” Arielle breathes in short rasps and her lips begin to turn blue.

“Someone call an ambulance!” Hari roars as the witch passes out in her arms.

Hari’s nerves are shot, her knee bobbing up and down violently as she downs her third double shot of whisky in an hour. She considered calling Mam-gu but it was almost eleven already, she’d do it when she got home.

“Hari, you gotta slow down, the paramedics said Arielle was going to be fine, she was just dehydrated and overworked, this can’t be your fault for getting your Tarot read.” Lawrence rests his warm hand on her shoulder, squeezing it softly.

“I know, I just feel so pent up, maybe it’s the storm.” She responds, the image of Arielle being hoisted into the ambulance burning a hole in her brain. She fingers the red serpent pendant around her neck, the witch had slipped it to her as she was loaded into the ambulance.

“Don’t fear the Viper, you will save him as much as he will save you.”

Hari had been mulling over her words for hours, fingers always touching the pendant, running over the intricate grooves and lines of the incredibly well-crafted piece. The leather thong attached to it looped over her head perfectly, as if it was made for her.

“Maybe, you want me to walk you both home?” Lawrence asks as he glances at Poppy, who lays sprawled out in the booth opposite them, passed out and snoring.

“Nah get her home, I’ll manage.” Hari says placing her hand over his and squeezing back. His soft blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair in the dark light highlighted just how attractive he is. But they’d been there, done that, almost murdered one another over one thing, or another. Cliché as it was, they were better off friends.

“Alright, but text me when you get home ok?” Lawrence says with a sympathetic smile as he downs the last of his beer, hoisting Poppy up gently before draping her arm over his shoulder and walking her out.

“Night Lordie, will do.” Hari responds before considering one more drink before heading home. Then she sees him through the window of the pub. Dark wavy hair, patchy beard and moustache, strong aquiline nose, wild brown eyes, dressed in leather armour. Then he’s gone. Replaced by the flash of lightning against the torrential rain that assaulted the dark streets beyond.

She doesn’t know what possesses her to chase after him, but after the Tarot reading and with the building anxiety in her stomach, she couldn’t stop herself. She runs out into the street, the chill biting at her skin as she scans the cobbled street for the man. It didn’t help that everyone was dressed in costume. The rain soaked Hari though to the skin, making her shiver violently in the late night air.

A flash of movement down a side alley catches her eye and she sees him again, disappearing into the gloom. Every survival instinct, every lesson on how to stay alive as a woman at night went out the window as she chased after him. The smell of urine and refuse fills her nostrils as she darts down the alleyway.

She turns down another side street before calling out to the stranger.

“Hey!” She shouts but the ghostly apparition of the man pauses before disappearing into thin air. Suddenly very aware how alone and vulnerable she is Hari backs out of the alley and heads back to the main street.

“Hey there Princess Merida, fancy seeing you here.” Dan’s cold voice calls from the alley entrance, Marcus and John are on either side of him. Hari says nothing, sweat beading on her brow as she tries to quell the panic in her chest.

“You got us a one month suspension from the gym, you know that?” Marcus pipes up this time, striding forward, blocking the alley further as the trio hemmed her in. Her hand flies to the pendant around her neck, the turbulent aura of Power surrounding her as she backs away from Dan slowly.

“Look I’m sorry I was in a really bad mood this morning, I’ll talk with Steve tomorrow and sort it out.” She barters, raising her hands in submission as she steps back into the alley, trying to put some distance between them.

“Too late,” Dan grumbles, “Watch the alley entrance.” He orders the other two and the sick feeling of dread fills Hari’s stomach as she realised his intentions. The clink of a belt buckle and the metallic slide of a zipper all but confirming it.

Angharad screams.

Staring up at a stormy sky, Oberyn realises quickly he is no longer in Westeros. The smell of wet grass, an acrid smog akin to tar, and the damp odour of rain fills his nostrils as he rocks up onto his feet, his body aches and he looks around the dimly lit courtyard to see he is in the confines of a castle’s bare gardens. The cobbled stones that line the floor, with large patches of grass lined with low walls surrounded by a large castle wall evidenced it well enough. But the looming castle tower at the top of a man-made hill confirmed it.

The noises he could hear were foreign to him, loud rumblings of great clanking beasts, blaring calls of loud, metallic horns and the roar of what sounded like dragons passing overhead were almost enough to overwhelm him. But there were familiar noises too, the simple fall of heavy rain. The peeling sounds of music, albeit more complex than he was used to, and the merrymaking of men and women in the streets were all sounds he could recognise.

Then he heard the screams. Hari’s screams. He couldn’t just hear them, he could feel them in his bones like a siren song drawing him to her. Who she was, Oberyn could not tell, but he knew she was important, knew that only he could save her.

Rushing through the large gatehouse and into the street beyond was like a portal into a different world. Cars, buses, bicycles all whipped along the road in front of Oberyn as he bursts out on to the street. He had no word for them but watched as a large crowd, dressed in costumes and masks for some kind of festival, crossed the road to the flash of a green witchlight on a pole, and high-pitched beeping.

Without a second thought he crossed with them, reaching the other side before the traffic consumed the road once more. He almost stopped in his tracks, fascinated by the vehicles of varying size and shapes, then the scream came once more and Oberyn felt the mindless pull towards a dark alley ahead of him.

Two men stand guard at the entrance, one blonde and ugly, the other ugly and dark haired, or so Oberyn thought to himself. The taller blonde one barks something in a tongue Oberyn cannot understand, but the meaning is clear without words as he shoves Oberyn back forcefully. The Viper laughs, a short, barking sound that seemed to only infuriate the pair blocking his path. In his own tongue he taunted them.

“Let’s dance.”

“Fucking hell guys, get rid of him!” Dan barks over his shoulder as he tries to free his dick from his pants with one hand. Hari fights back with renewed fervour, the hope of the mystery man intervening enough to spur her on.

“Shit!” John yelps as a soft, yet heavy thud rings through the alley. Marcus is down, and in the light from the street beyond reflects in a blackening pool of what must be blood flowing onto the wet cobbles. John flees into the Highstreet before Dan can even turn to face the leather clad man.

“Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something?” Dan scoffs, then he looks down to see the unmoving form of Marcus, with John no-where to be seen. He freezes in panic before pushing Hari away and addressing the strange man in very real looking leather armour.

The other man laughs once more, a spirited, audacious sound, before speaking once again in his native tongue. Time seems to slow as Hari watches the saviour from her nightmares lunge at Dan, gripping him by the back of the head before wrenching him away from her. Dan stumbles against the slick wall to Hari’s right and he grunts in pain and frustration.

The mystery man winks at Hari, bright teeth flashing pearlescent in the moonlight, his dark hair plastered against his head from the rain as he locks his dark eyes with her own. The smell of good quality leather, orange blossom and incense fills Hari’s nostrils as he twirls around just in time to parry aside the poorly thrown punch from behind.

She watches in awe as the man from her dreams dances around Dan, ducking and spinning away from every sloppy punch and flailing kick. It was like watching a child play fight with an older sibling. But siblings don’t break each other’s jaws.

The snap of Dan’s head is sickening as he howls into the night air, he falls to the floor, kneeling at the other man’s feet as he weeps and sobs. The rain thunders around Hari as she realises she needs to act. Without hesitation she throws herself between the two men, shielding Dan from any further abuse.

“Enough.” She says fiercely, very aware that this man could very well be as dangerous to her as Dan just was, but something about the way he stares back with unwavering, calm intensity gives her confidence to push him back. She shoves with both hands against his leather-clad chest. He laughs before saying something in his own tongue but she shakes her head.

“I don’t understand you.” She says as the sound of sirens filter through the night air, she acts without thinking and grabs the man by the wrist and runs, he doesn’t resist and they flee together into the stormy streets of Cardiff on Halloween.

I hope you look forward to the next chapter! This is a real passion project for me!

@yvonneeeee @notsosecretspy @jadealicious06 @famouslyanonymous @harriedandharassed @casa-boiardi @pimosworld @brittmb115 @beefrobeefcal

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frenziedslashers · 1 year

Note

(Thank you for answering my ask. :) You’re very kind. I’ll try not to let my scattered thoughts get carried away, lol! If you have any questions or anything, please let me know!)

So, what I’m thinking is… Since I’m low-key kinda tired of seeing all these survivor type readers, I’d like to see an extremely terrified, skittish, and introverted reader. A reader who is weak. A reader who is deathly afraid of zombies & people, for very personal reasons… I was thinking of some idea like this: Daryl encounters the trans dude reader by chance. He might hear some muffled crying in the trees outside Alexandria, and see a small pack of the undead clawing at something beyond their reach. It’s that guy. His body is frail, his limbs look like they could snap in half with just a touch. The smell of ganja wafting from him like sea waves. One thing interesting about the dude, besides the permanent drug scent, is that he’s carrying around a duffel bag filled to the brim with CD’s, and a dinky CD player. Joints & vapes shoved deep into the pockets of the worn bag. Maybe something about the reader might spark a tiny amount of interest in Dixon? Maybe there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to the newcomer of the group? Maybe him and Daryl bond over similar tastes in music? Reader is antisocial as all get-out, but he is never snappy when spoken to. His voice is as quiet as wind whispering through the trees, so it’s difficult for others to hear him properly, and they’d have to ask him to repeat himself a couple times.

(I’m sorry, I’m not the best with describing what I want… 🥲 I’ll try to summarize down here:)

Daryl encounters a stoned, scared as shit trans reader who is stuck in a tree, outside Alexandria’s walls, and the others invite him in. Him & Dixon bond over similar life experiences and music? You can do what you want to with the rest. :) I’d love this short story to be filled to the brim with fluff! And slow burn would be amazing, too. Daryl & reader slowly getting used to each other & other people. And then that turns into something neither one of them would’ve expected: Love. <3

You Know You're Right;;

A/N: Yes! Of course! And thank you so much for this ask, I love this idea so much you have no idea 😭 I have been wanting to write a fic like this for a while but couldn't come up with a solid idea (the thought was there, but not a plan if that makes sense?) So this made me so happy when you sent it in, thank you 🫶

Pairing: Daryl x Transmasc!Reader

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Daryl gets a little snappy and rude but warms up, possibly ooc Daryl?, Drug usage (Marijuana), making out - nothing more, Daryl gets a tad bit sappy because I say so, let me know if I need to add more!

The growling only seemed to get louder with each passing second. Moans and groans that drove the hunter wild. Rick asked him to stay put, telling him 'They'll pass, they always do.' But he couldn't. Not when they seemed to be after something in the building right beside the gate. Who was to say they wouldn't draw in more? Even if it was just a damn cat they were after, Daryl was tired of it.

He opened the gate with the help of Rosita. The girl offered to come out with him, but he only waved her off. "Jus' five of 'em. Ain't nothin' I never took by m'self." He grumbled, and she sighed with a nod. She had Tara on the post that gave her leverage above the wall. Just in case things went south and Daryl needed the backup. She wasn't stupid, she knew Daryl wouldn't accept her help. She also knew Daryl wasn't doing this for Alexandria. He was doing it for himself, to get out and use his skills so he didn't feel so damn useless. She got it, she really did.

The hunter let out a sharp whistle. Daryl watched as the dead slowly turned in order to see where the noise came from. Snarling and chomping at the man as he just smirked. His hair rose on his arms while he cocked his bow back. Aiming, then firing.

Killing the dead gave him this sort of thrill. It made him feel more alive. Reminded him that he wasn't one of them and he was still breathing.

When they got too close to where he stood. His bow was slung over his shoulder with an amused hum. Knife in his hand while he held his other arm out in order to shove them away if they did happen to get too close to him. "Bring it," he dared before moving with quick and swift motions.

He drove the knife into the skull of the closest walker. Shoving its limp corpse back into the other and watching as it fell. He finished off the last one standing before stomping on the fallen one that lay beneath the other dead one. Brain matter splattered out onto the pavement below his boot. A loud crunch was heard, and soon, it was quiet again. Until he heard a soft sob from inside that damned building.

Daryl hadn't expected this to become a rescue mission. Hell, he had half a mind to leave whoever it was in there to find their way back inside the walls. It was probably one of the damn kids that liked wandering out to screw around anyways, but he wasn't like that. He was soft, even if he wouldn't admit it to anyone.

"Hey," he called out. His voice was gruff as he pushed through the door after twisting the handle. "Hey, who's in here?" He questioned, holding his bow up to his eye as he scanned the room. Turning in sharp and stiff motions to be sure he wasn't walking into a trap. Or that there weren't any more dead wandering about.

"Here," the voice was so soft and meek. It was as quiet as a mouse, and he swore if there were any more dead outside moaning and groaning he would have never heard it. The soft and timid voice that came from under the table.

"Come out," he ordered, and when you didn't he sighed, lowering his bow. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, there ain't no more walkers." His voice made your breath shake. Your eyes fell shut before you slowly crawled out from under the table. Standing to your feet with wobbly and weak legs. Your backpack still strapped to your shoulders. "Please, don't hurt me, I.." you took a deep gulp, another shaky breath leaving your lips. "I don't have anything valuable. I promise," you insisted before opening your eyes to meet Daryl's.

You were so scrawny, and shaky, and he swore he could smell the weed from the door. Seeing the way your eyes looked he knew it was from you, too. He wasn't stupid. Even though he hadn't smoked or been around bud in forever, he still knew what it smelt like. That wasn't a smell he could just forget when it was the core of so many memories of his own. Memories of Merle, when they both would smoke a bowl and just chill. Or when he'd sneak out of the house with a joint he stole out of Merle's stash to just relax and get away from it all. He knew. It was almost nostalgic for the man.

"Ya ain't from here," he verified, hardly paying any mind to what you said prior. You shook your head frantically, and he nodded. "Ever killed any of the dead?" You shook your head, 'no', again, and he nodded once more. "How're you alive then?" He objected, and you shrugged.

Truthfully, you didn't even know. Half the nights you'd hide in closets of homes and smoke the weed or nicotine you'd find stashed in houses. Or just sleep the days away. That's what you were doing here. Looking for a stash that was never there and you happened to get yourself caught. Daryl was the only reason you were standing.

"Ever killed any of the livin'?" He asked, and as he assumed, you shook your head again. He only hummed in response. Studying you closely with his squinted gaze. From what he could tell you were anything but a threat. You were a stoner trying to survive the damn apocalypse. Weren't much of a talker, either. Not that he minded much, it was nice finding a straggler who wasn't about to tell him a hundred reasons as to why he should spare him. Daryl couldn't stand people who didn't shut up. At least, people he didn't know who wouldn't shut up.

"Come on, let's get ya inside. We got some food and water, ya look like yer about t'pass out." He muttered, motioning for you to head out the door first. Sure, you didn't seem like a threat, but he wasn't taking any chances either.

Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Staring at the man before you who could very well end this all for you. You were too scared to respond verbally to any of his questions. Too anxious that you might say the wrong thing or sound too harsh for some reason and he'd shoot you then and there. It wasn't until he offered shelter, food, and water that you finally let your shoulders relax. A deep sigh passed your lips as you lowered your hands that you had risen to show you meant no harm to the scruffy-looking man.

"Thank you," you uttered, voice still as timid as before. "Don't mention it," was all he grumbled before following after you.

You shifted from foot to foot once you were inside the gates. Two women were standing before you and you swore you could crumble away just from their questioning and judging gazes. "Is that weed on him?" the one girl asked with narrowed eyes, and Daryl shrugged. "Can ya blame 'em? It's fuckin' hell out there," Daryl snapped, and Rosita only shrugged. "I guess," she groused, taking note of the glare in Daryls' eye when she questioned you. He was good at being protective over the people he'd bring home. Especially the scared ones. She never understood why, no one did. There was a lot about Daryl that no one could decode.

"Come on, this way," Daryl motioned for you to follow him, and you nodded. "Wait, do they have any weapons?" the other girl asked, and Daryl stopped. Turning back to look at you with a questioning gaze. You looked just as scared as before, and he pursed his lips with a sympathetic gaze. "Well?" He asked, and you reached into your pocket. Handing him a small knife. "I uh.. I don't use it much. Just to open cans, really." You spoke, your voice shaky, and he nodded. Taking it from you with a nod. "I'll give it back when we know we can trust ya." You nodded in understanding. Truthfully, he could keep it and you wouldn't care. Being here was more than a fair trade for the shitty pocket knife you found in a house when this all started.

"I'm Tara," the girl who asked about the weapons spoke, and you offered a shy smile. Stammering out your name while offering an awkward wave. Daryl couldn't help but stare while he watched you introduce yourself. Storing your name deep in his mind. "This is Rosita," the other girl offered a smile and wave, which you returned with a soft 'hi.' "And, I'm sure he didn't introduce himself, he's pretty good at that. This is Daryl," Tara told you while motioning to your savior.

The way you stared up at him with that soft and thankful smile did something to him. He hardly knew you and he felt this need to keep you safe. Like he was put on this earth to find you one day and save you from those walkers and protect you from the world around you. "Hi, Daryl," he nodded, his eyes fixating on the ground before looking back up at you. "Hey." his own voice was rather bashful this time, and both Rosita and Tara watched the man with curious gazes. Something was going on inside that head of his, and it made them both smile, just a little.

Daryl was quick to drive away the awkwardness that followed after he greeted you back. The silence was driving him wild, and he was directing you back toward the house he was originally going to take you to. The whole walk there was just as quiet though, but he'd take it over the look the two women were giving him after he said 'hey' back to you. It wasn't like he said anything weird. The situation was just weird.

"Is weed not allowed here?" You blurted, and Daryl looked over at you with furrowed brows. Watching as you wrung your hands together and kept your gaze forward. "What? No. Just... No one here really does it. Ain't gonna get kicked out over it," He told you, and you sighed. "All right. I got a little scared when Rosita?" You looked at him for assurance that you said her name right, and only continued when he nodded. "Questioned me about it," He shook his head with a sigh. "She just doesn't know how to mind 'er own damn business," you lowered your head, smiling faintly at what he said.

It wasn't until the both of you were closer to the house that you spoke again. Going over what you wanted to say over and over before you got the courage to say it. "If you smoke, or uh... Want to, I could share. It's the only way I could really pay you back for saving me." He snorted a bit at that, reaching up to scratch at his chin before pushing the door to a house open. "Ain't gotta do that," you shrugged, "well, the offer stands if you ever change your mind." He was definitely going to remember that.

-----

Weeks went by, and Daryl was there to get you settled in. He was there sticking up for you when Rick questioned why he let a stranger in behind the walls after everything that's happened. Daryl saw something in you. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was something. Whether it be that he thought you could be useful. Or that he saw part of the scared boy that Daryl used to be before he built up his walls. Walls that were now so high he swore not even the sun itself could peak behind them.

He did end up taking up that offer with you, too. In the five weeks you've been with them it became a ritual between the both of you, even. He'd meet you at the field close to the back of the walls, and you'd both share a joint.

The first night Daryl was almost too scared to ask if he could take up that offer. It was day seven of you being behind the walls. The two of you had gotten closer, but Daryl wasn't sure you were both close enough for him to be smoking your weed. Even if you had offered it up, he was still in doubt. If it weren't for the way you smiled at him and greeted him with those welcoming eyes he probably wouldn't have asked. You were so bashful with everyone else, hell, even afraid of some. Yet, you seemed so comfortable around him, even if you were still as timid as a mouse. He didn't understand why. Daryl was anything but welcoming, yet you seemed to like his company more than anyone else.

That night he met you outside the house on the street. There was a chill to the air that nipped at your skin, and he could tell you were a little cold by the way you'd shudder here or there. "Let's walk," he rasped, hoping the movement would keep you warm. He let you take the first hit and took the drug from your fingers before bringing it up to his own lips to inhale.

It had been so long since he'd smoked marijuana. His throat burned once the smoke drifted through it to his lungs. Offering the joint back to you while he held it in for as long as he could, before finally coughing it all out. "Holy shit, ain't smoked this shit in forever," he spoke while continuing his coughing fit, and you only snickered. Offering a bottle of water that he gladly took from you. Practically ripping the cap off before taking a swig with a groan.

Your eyes were glued to him the whole time. You finally felt like you found a person you could truly trust. A person that you didn't have to be scared of. Whether it be fear of them leaving, or fear of them hurting you. He seemed genuine, and you only hoped your judgment was right.

The weed didn't seem to make him any more talkative than before at first, but you did notice he seemed less tense. His shoulders seemed to roll forward a little, and his steps were a bit more sluggish. The crease in his brow was practically gone, and his eyes were on the sky.

"You ever think about if there's any other Earth's out there?" you asked as the both of you walked aimlessly through town, and he shrugged. "No, guess not," you smiled gently at his words, "I do, I always wonder if it's like our Earth. Like, where we're all there, but it's just, different." "Like we're there, but we got different lives?" He asked, looking over at you, watching as your smile grew and you nodded. "Yeah, exactly!" you hummed, and he nodded, staring for a moment longer, before reaching out with his hand to nudge your own.

He didn't grab your hand though, he was quick to pull his back to his side. He only wanted your attention. "Follow me, I know a place we could sit." You smiled at his words and complied. Following like a puppy beside the man you grew to trust.

"What d'ya thank you on another earth is like?" Daryl asked, hoping you would talk more about this intriguing conversation. Truthfully, he just wanted to hear your voice more. "Well, I'd like to think I'd have my shit together," you chuckled, and he nodded, "I could smoke to that," he added while snatching the bud from between your fingers. A grunt slipped past his lips as he sunk to the ground. Taking the butt of the joint between his lips before inhaling.

You watched with a grin as he sunk to the meadowy ground. Your eyes watched as he lay down on the earth floor and looked up at you. He was something else. A man you wished you had met a lot sooner. "Ya just gonna stare or lay down with me?" He asked, and you felt your face heat up. Dropping to the ground in order to lie beside him. Keeping a distance between the both of you in order to not make it weird.

"I'd like to think the other me was a lot braver than I am, too," you muttered. Your eyes met Daryl's when you heard him shift to look over at you. "You are brave," he spoke, and you swore he sounded offended. You would have laughed at him if it weren't for how genuine his eyes looked. "If you weren't brave, ya wouldn't be here," Daryl spoke, and you shook your head, finally letting out a soft chuckle. "But I'm not brave. All I ever did was run. I've never even killed one of those things. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead right now. You said it yourself, 'how are you even still alive?' I don't even know, Daryl. I just am, not because I'm brave. Just because..." You paused, staring up at the night sky with teary eyes. Your chest rose and fell a little faster than before. "Because you fought," he spoke, reaching over to pass the drug back to you. "You may not've killed any, but ya survived. That takes guts. Y'ain't gotta kill to be brave." He told you, and you chuckled. "That's easy for you to say." And that was the end of that conversation.

Daryl didn't say a lot after that. His eyes focus on the stars above you both. He'd point at a few, asking if you thought they might be the other earth or not. You weren't sure why, but a particularly small star you had a feeling was that other earth. Pointing it out to the man with a smile. "I think it's that one. Right at the end of the Little Dipper." He snorted, and you looked over at him just in time to see him smile. An occurrence you learned fast was rare, and you cherished it. "Imagine if it was," he hummed, waving at the sky before his smile faded and his gaze turned cold.

Everything hit Daryl like a bag of bricks to the face. Everyone he ever loved who he lost. Ripped from him by whatever sick force took them from him. Merle, Dale, Amy, Sophia, Hershel, Glenn, Beth, everyone. If this other Earth was a thing, were they still there? Were they all alive and happy? Did Daryl get to meet any of them besides his brother? Did he still get beaten by his father in that life?

You watched as he scowled up at the sky. His jaw clenched, and you frowned. Wondering, but too scared to ask what was going on inside that mind of his. "I hope you saved me there, too." You spoke softly, watching his eyes dart around when he seemed to come back from his thoughts. His head turned to look over at you. Blinking a few times before his eyes completely softened. "I know I did."

That night was one of your favorite memories, and his as well. It was the night that seemed to bring you both closer. It gave you both a way to hang out. That only tightened your bond with one another.

-----

"Daryl," you called out when you caught him walking down the street towards the gates. His crossbow was strung over his shoulder. "Where are you heading?" He turned his head to meet yours, watching as you quickened your pace to walk by him.

He stopped his walk to allow you to catch up with him, too. "I'm headin' t'Hilltop. Jesus and Maggie needed an extra hand. Why ya need somethin'?" He asked with a curious gaze, and you shook your head.

A twinge of anxiety shot through you at the thought of him leaving you here by yourself, and he noticed it right away. "I ain't gonna be long. I'd offer to bring ya along, but I know ya don't really like leavin' the walls," he explained, and you nodded. He frowned when you didn't say anything.

You flinched ever so slightly when his hands grabbed your upper arms. His touch was soft and soothing though, a large contrast to how life had been treating you lately. "Hey, I ain't goin' nowhere. If ya wanna come ya're more than welcome. I got room on the bike. I always got room for ya," He told you, offering a lopsided grin, and you stared back at him as a smile of your own crept onto your face. If you told your past self you'd finally meet a man that didn't make your skin crawl when he touched you. A man that could ease away your worries with just a few simple words - he'd never believe you.

"I want to go, maybe I can help with what they need help with?" You spoke, a slight question to your voice, and he nodded with a hum. Giving your arms a light squeeze before pulling back. "'Ight, go pack a bag for a few days then, gonna be there for a bit," he added, shoving your shoulder lightly with his knuckles. Watching as you ran back for the house.

You held on tight the whole way to Hilltop. Your face was buried in his back while you clung your arms around his waist. Never in your life did you ever imagine you would end up on the back of a motorcycle, but here you were. With every bump and uneven patch of gravel Daryl hit, you'd cling a little harder to the man. Clenching your eyes and jaw shut. Praying to whatever God there was that he wouldn't crash his bike.

Daryl could tell you were panicking behind him, and he smiled a little. Reaching a hand down to hold over your hand when you would squeeze him tighter. Fingers rubbed over your arm and the backs of your hands to assure you that he wasn't about to let anything happen to you. He'd be damned if he was the reason you got hurt.

Once the bike was stopped inside the gate he practically had to pry your arms off of him. "Hey, ya can let go now," he spoke with an amused chuckle. "Ain't never been on a bike, have ya?" He concluded when you finally let him help you off the motorcycle. Nodding his head when you shook yours in response. "Well, I'll be sure to take a car next time ya come with me," he told you, reaching up to ruffle your hair before motioning for you to follow him.

Hilltop wasn't anything like you had imagined. Sure, the others had explained it to you, but it was so much more - farm-like. It was like all those video games you used to play on your phone to pass the time. The ones where you had the big fancy buildings and barns, with the crops that you harvested to sell and the animals you took care of for produce. It felt like a dream, really. It wasn't until you noticed all the people that you had never seen before that you finally felt that familiar fear and dread creep under your skin. Pushing the awe and nostalgic feelings away.

Daryl hadn't even thought of how you would react to all the new faces until he felt your hand slip into his. The action startled him, neither of you had ever really held hands before. His eyes darted down to look at your fingers that intertwined with his own. His fingers cautiously linked with your own. Giving your smaller hand a light squeeze while he brought his eyes up to look at you. Offering a soft smile when you looked at him. "I got ya, yer safe," he told you, and you nodded. You knew you were with him there, but hearing him say it out loud while squeezing your hand back only seemed to bring a wave of ease over you. It was like a blanket that wrapped snuggly around you, just that blanket was him.

Maggie greeted you both with a smile that could wash away anyone's worries. It was so sweet and kind, and it gave you this sense of hope that maybe more kind people existed in the world outside of Alexandria. "I'm so glad ya made it, Daryl," She had the same accent as Daryls, yet hers reminded you more of a farm girl. It had this cowgirl vibe to it that you couldn't quite explain, and it made you smile a little to yourself.

You watched as Daryl pulled his hand from yours briefly to greet her with a hug. He was quick to return to your side, his hand grabbing at yours again. He motioned to you with his head, introducing you to the woman as he introduced her to you.

"Nice to meet you," you muttered, offering your other hand to shake, but she ignored it. Smiling at you before pulling you in for a hug that definitely caught you by surprise. "Any friend of Daryl's is a friend of mine," she spoke before pulling away. She didn't want to assume that the both of you were dating, but she could tell that something was going on. Daryl wouldn't just hold anyone's hand.

"How about you show 'im around, Dar'? Jesus ain't back yet, I can come to get ya when he is." She offered with her kind smile, and the hunter beside you nodded. "Sure thing, Maggie, come on. I got somethin' to show ya anyways." He spoke to her and then you. Your eyes watching him with curiosity when he mentioned showing you something. Excitement coursed your veins at the thought of him showing you something - anything.

He led you off and away from the leader of the little community. The woman watching both of you with a fond gaze. She was glad Daryl was finally able to find someone in all of this. It was about time he finally opened himself up to someone.

Your eyes freely roamed as Daryl drug you through the town. You recognized a few of the faces. Tara was here, greeting you with a wave and a soft smile before Daryl pulled you along further. You even saw a few others who had stopped by Alexandria a time or two during your stay there.

"Where are we going?" You asked, and he glanced at you before motioning forward. "There," he grunted, and you sighed. Looking at the building that he led you to. "Are you finally leading me to my death?" You quipped with a soft laugh, and you noticed the corner of his lips tug into a small smile. "Nah, you're too fun," he shot back, and you'd be lying if you said that didn't have your heart soaring. Your eyes dart down with a shy smile that did not go unnoticed by the hunter.

Daryl knew what he was doing probably wouldn't be that exciting, but he hoped you would like it. He saw all those CD's that you had in that bag of yours and he had heard you talk about your favorite bands so many nights when the two of you would smoke or just talk. He hoped this would mean something to you. Even if he just got a smile and a 'thank you,' from you he'd appreciate it. He'd feel appreciated. Like maybe he was doing the right thing.

When he opened the door to the shared room he ushered you to sit on the bed. Taking the bag that was strapped over his shoulder and setting it on the dresser while he rummaged through it. His back was facing you, and blocking whatever he was doing. It had your palms sweating and your body trembling a little out of anxiety. What could he be grabbing? You couldn't even begin to imagine what he was about to pull out. Did he make you something? Find something on his last run that reminded him of you? Maybe he found a new pipe for you guys to use, or...

You stopped thinking when the first note hit your ears. Everything in you froze. Your heart stopped beating for a moment and you felt a wave of emotions wash over you like you were standing in the middle of the river. You carried those CDs with you everywhere in hopes that you could listen to them all again one day, and now the intro of one of your favorite songs, from one of your favorite albums was playing in the room with you.

Your hands clenched the blankets that you sat on top of and you felt this wave of gratitude, nostalgia, and so many more things overcome you. Tears were actually brimming in your eyes at how thankful you felt for the other man.

When he turned around, you didn't even give him time to speak. Your mouth beat him to whatever he was going to ask. "You listened?" You asked, astounded that he even listened to you when you rambled about the bands that you liked. The fact that he paid attention had you feeling so much more validation than you ever had in your life. No one had cared to ever listen to you when you go on your tangents.

He let out a nervous chuckle while nodding his head. His own anxieties had taken over the moment he started the song. Wondering if maybe you wouldn't appreciate the battery-operated CD player as much as he thought you would. "Yeah, 'course I listened. Why wouldn' I listen to ya?" He asked while shifting from foot to foot. His fingers fidgeted with the sides of his jeans before he brought his bag over to you on the bed.

The bed dipped as he sat beside you. Resting it between the both of you. "I remembered all the bands ya said ya liked, I took 'em from your bag and put 'em in here, hope that's 'right." He told you. Watching as you excitedly rummaged through it. Though a few CDs you didn't recognize.

You furrowed your brow when you pulled out a Johnny Cash CD, along with A KoRn and an Alice In Chains one that you hadn't owned prior. "Those 'r some of my favorites," He told you, and you felt your heart swell at the fact he was sharing his favorite bands with you.

Music always seemed to connect you with people more than anything else in the world. The way the songs could be played just put you in the mood for different events. Different songs to associate with different people. Not only that, but the music was the best way to learn about other people. For you, at least.

"You like Alice?" You asked with a grin and he nodded. "Yeah, I used t'listen t'Man in The Box all the time," he told you with a soft smile, and you felt like you were ascending. "Any other songs you like?" You asked, and he nodded. "Hurt by Johnny Cash, Ma used t'sing Merle and me that when I was li'l." He remembered while leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. "Lots'a Nirvana songs 'r good. Dumb, Aneurysm, Negative Creep, School," He reminisced, eyes staring off at the floor. "Had m'hand full of CD collections before," he scrunched his nose at the memories that flashed before his eyes. "'fore m'dad broke 'em all." He spoke but was quick to continue. "Motorhead, Creed, Sabbath, R.E.M., had a bunch'a CDs I'd steal from stores or m'brother would get f'r me." He spoke, his voice growing quieter and quieter the longer he spoke about his past.

Every memory felt like a plague to Dixon. Even the good ones gave him this sense of unease and made him feel a little queasy. Thinking about his mom reminded him that she died in what he used to think was the worst way possible. The thought of his Dad made the scars on his back scream. It was almost like he could still feel the months' worth of aches and pain that they brought him. Even the thought of his brother made him want to crawl out of his skin.

Memories of Merle betraying him, even before all this started. He realized now that his big brother betrayed him when he was younger by leaving him with their abusive dad. When he would let his friends beat Daryl. When he'd drag Daryl into drug deals and buys gone wrong.

Now when he thought of Merle, he didn't even see what he used to look like. He saw those haunting dead eyes, and the blood that drooled from his mouth after he had eaten a man.

"I had this CD collection that took up an entire cabinet," you told him, and Daryl was thankful that you started talking. He couldn't spend another moment inside that head of his. "Used to listen to music every day. I had to, or else I'd think too much and go crazy, you know?" Daryl nodded at that, he knew exactly what you meant. "I'd either think too much, or everything would be so fucking quiet. I'd get scared because all I'd hear was static and I always needed something to fill that silence." It was Daryl's turn to look over at you now. Watching as you stared at the radio and rambled on.

After a while, Daryl was hardly even listening to you or the music that played in the room. He was too occupied watching you. The way your hands move while you spoke. How you would smile or frown depending on the mood of your sentence. Or even the way your brow would crease when you thought of how to word specific sentences. He was entranced by you. Everything you did was like magic to him. He could watch you talk all day, and he felt honored that you were comfortable enough to talk with him. He knew you weren't fond of social interaction. He was an introvert himself, plus it wasn't hard to notice how reserved you were. He was just happy you trusted him enough to talk this comfortably around him. Even if he still noticed his you fidgeted your hands and wet your lips constantly.

He didn't focus on your words again until you said his name. His eyes focused on yours with raised brows. It made you smile, you knew he had zoned out. It didn't bother you too much though since you were practically rambling about nothing and everything all at once.

"Thank you, Daryl," you repeated yourself, and he nodded. Sitting up so he could place his hands beside him on the bed. His fingers unintentionally sat right against yours, but he didn't dare move them away. "'Course," he muttered, but his voice sounded distant. Like he still wasn't entirely there and he was still thinking about something else.

He could feel the beat of his heart quicken in his chest when he got this crazy idea of kissing you that flashed through his mind. That was insane. He couldn't do that, he wasn't the type of guy to initiate something like that, but you sure as hell weren't either. He was fighting with his inner thoughts. One-half of him screamed for him to kiss you. To pull you against him and hold you close. To place his hand cautiously over your throat and feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch, but he didn't. He couldn't, not right now.

"We should listen to music and smoke later tonight." You told him, your palms growing clammy with the way he stared at you and had his fingers touching the tips of yours. You just needed to say something to break the silence that was practically killing you. "We should," he added, and you smiled.

----

On the upper floor of the barn was where you both decided to light up. He had found some weed on one of his runs and offered it to try tonight. He just hoped it was good and wasn't shit. It was hard telling, anymore. Not that they really had a lot of options.

"Got a light?" He asked, holding the joint between his lips, and you nodded. Flicking the lighter so the orange light glowed. Holding it up to the tip of the joint in order to light it for him. Daryl made a 'v' with his fingers beneath the rolled drug in case it happened to slip from his lips.

He inhaled and you watched with interested eyes. His own eyes locked on your face, bouncing from feature to feature until he had to blow the smoke out. Turning his head in order to not blow it in your face. You snatched the joint from his fingers before plopping down on the ground with a hum. Your legs dangling over the edge of the opening that led from inside the barn to the outside. It was like a giant window that allowed you both the ability to see the night sky. Clicking the play button on the radio before taking a hit from the joint yourself.

Daryl leaned back when the song started. A deep exhale left his nostrils before he laid his back on the floor. His feet lightly kicked with a soft smile. Taking another hit of the drug as you passed it back to him.

'Ain't found a way to kill me yet.'

Daryl soaked in the familiar lyrics while letting the drug slowly work its way into his system with each passing hit he would take. You could tell he was already getting high the more open and relaxed he got. "Ain't listened to this song in ages," He spoke into the night sky and you chuckled, finally allowing yourself to lay beside him. Just you were facing him, admiring him with the false sense of confidence that the marijuana seemed to be feeding you tonight.

You smiled wider when he closed his eyes and began muttering the lyrics to the both of you. "Yeah, we come to snuff the rooster," he mumbled, and you wondered if he even realized he was singing to the song. It was a moment you truly hoped you would never forget. Passing the joint between one another for the next song or two.

It wasn't until the next song started playing that you finally started singing with him. "I will never bother you, I will never promise to," you called out, and a lazy smile graced Daryls' lips. "I will never follow you, I will never bother you," he hummed out. "Never speak a word again, I will crawl away for good." You both sang and your eyes met. He was glad he had grabbed this CD. He read the first few songs someone had scribbled onto it with a sharpie and he knew they were all good, but he never imagined you'd both be singing them with each other. Sober him wouldn't be, but high, Daryl was always more open and in a way bubbly.

You both stopped singing the moment your eyes locked. Kurt Cobain's voice floated in the air around you, and the mood between you both seemed to shift dramatically. Daryl could feel the heat rising to his chest, and his thoughts were so fogged over that he hardly knew what he was doing until he was doing them. Thoughts so delayed that he didn't even feel like he was controlling his own mind.

His fingertips reached out to run over the side of your face. Daryl turned to his side to look you over with this look that called out to you. You felt like your face was burning where his fingers brushed against you and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

"Daryl," you spoke his name and his chest felt even tighter hearing you call out for him. He needed to be engulfed by you. To be inside you, but not in a sexual light. In more - an innocently intimate light. He didn't want to physically be inside you, but metaphorically. He didn't want to have sex, he just wanted to be consumed by every part of you. Your touch, your scent, your voice. He wanted you to hold him and he to hold you. To kiss you and feel just how soft your lips felt against his own. He wanted to be connected to you

Before he could even think over what he was doing. His body was drawn to yours like a magnet was attracted to its opposite. His hand was calloused, but his gentle touch was a big difference from the roughness of his fingers. His body scooted closer to yours, and you pulled yourself closer to him with the same eagerness. Even if neither of you really knew what was happening.

His nose bumped yours, and he felt his heart soar when you giggled at the action. His own laugh escaped his lips while he stared back into your eyes. "May I kiss ya?" He asked with his southern charm, and you nodded. You were practically putty in his hands, but he was even more so putty in yours when you reached up to brush some hair from his eyes. He damn near malfunctioned when your fingers brushed over his forehead and tucked the piece of hair behind his ear. He never knew how crazy you could drive him.

He finally gained control over his body again after focusing on the way you brushed his hair away. Leaning closer to close that gap between you both. His heart was loud in his ears. If it weren't for the fact that Chris Cornell was now singing in the background and he could still faintly hear him, he would have assumed that his eardrums had burst.

His hand came to the back of your head and pulled you closer to him. The kiss started soft and experimental, but Daryl was fast at deepening it. Hungry for more of it, more of you.

He was practically devouring you, his teeth were clashing with yours, and it had your head buzzing. Your hand knotted in the hair on the back of his head and he moaned into your mouth. A noise you had never imagined the stoic and stone-faced hunter was even capable of making. It surprised you, to say the least, and part of you wondered if you had imagined it.

Your free hand was quick to explore his arms, shoulders, and chest when he lifted himself from his side to scramble over you. One arm rested on the opposite side of your head while the other hand held the side of your face gently. You were like a couple of teenagers who had snuck out of the house to get high and make out, but this was far from either of your intentions from the beginning of the night.

Hell, both of you were convinced that neither of you would ever make a move even if you did both reciprocate the feelings. You were each so awkward and nervous. Daryl had experienced enough rejection in his life, and so had you.

When Daryl finally pulled away you were both fighting to catch your breaths. Daryl's eyes were dark. His pupils were blown and the blue of his eyes was hardly visible, especially when all either of you had for light was the moon outside that shone through the opening behind the both of you. Casting shadows over your body that Daryl swore made you look even more mysterious and handsome.

"Sorry," he muttered, he didn't even know what he was apologizing for, but it just came out. He had asked to kiss you and you said yes, but he felt like he got just a little too carried away there. You smiled, though, and it made his stomach fill with a fluttery zoo of butterflies. You made him feel things that he never thought he'd feel. He felt like he was in high school again, kissing the boy of his dreams and feeling all light and floaty. Just he wasn't, and you were both old enough to be parents to kids in high school, and high school was a thing of the past. He wished he had met you back in high school, hell. Maybe you would have been his reason to not drop out and actually get an education.

You cupped the sides of his face and his breathing staggered. His eyes fluttered shut while he let you pull him down in for another kiss. Everything felt so amplified, and he wondered if your lips were this addictive sober, too.

"Don't apologize, Daryl," you chuckled against his lips, and he nodded. "Sorry," he mumbled, and both of your eyes opened to look at each other. He hardly had a reaction, half-lidded, bloodshot eyes staring into yours, but you giggled. Your fit of giggles made him giggle as well. Another noise you had never thought to hear from the man above you. "Daryl you're too cute," you blurted, feeling your body heat up after realizing what you had said, but you were too out of it to react.

Daryl snorted lightly at the compliment, a pink dusting over his face. "Me cute? God, ya should see yerself," he cooed, leaning back in for another kiss which you happily accepted. Both of you hummed into each kiss you gave one another. Until Daryl's lips got curious, and they trailed down your jaw. He wanted to feel every part of you that you had to offer. One of his hands moved to rest on the other side of your neck, his thumb brushing over your pulse. He felt how fast it was racing and that only seemed to excite Daryl more. His lips traveled further down until they were on your throat.

His lips had hardly brushed the skin of your neck and you felt it tingle with this familiar feeling that had your body flinching and jerking. A smile spread across your lips as his beard tickled against your skin. "Daryl," you squeaked while he unintentionally tickled your neck. "Daryl, stop it! That tickles!" He was a little panicked when he heard you tell him to stop, worried he overstepped the boundaries, but when you said it tickled? Oh, that was a reaction he was not expecting but was far from disappointed in hearing.

His lips attacked you, and your giggles turned into laughs. Your hands trying to shove and push him away from you. Your legs tried to scoot you away, but he had moved so he hovered above you and his other hand was on your hip keeping you still. His laughter was mixing with your own while he left sloppy kisses over your neck and shoulders. Your giggles caused his chest to swell. He swore it would burst open with how much adoration he had for you.

It wasn't until you pushed his face away from you that he stopped. His eyes met yours that were shedding tears from how hard you were laughing, and he smiled down at you with these eyes that you swore you'd never seen so much love in before. You wanted to pretend to be mad at him, hell you were a little upset. You weren't that fond of being tickled, but you couldn't help but smile back. You'd blame your lack of ability to stay mad at the man above you on the weed. When deep down you knew you just had the biggest soft spot in the world for Daryl Dixon. Your hero, your saint.

His thumb brushed over your cheek, brushing tears off it with a sigh. "Sorry, got carried away," he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes. "Jus' love hearing' ya laugh, can't blame me," he grumbled, and you looked a little sheepish as you stared up at him. "I like hearing your laugh too, I don't get to hear it that much though." He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. His finger traced over your cheek and down to your chin. Watching intently. "Kinda hard t'laugh anymore," he sighed, and you nodded. "I get that," then it was silent again.

The CD has stopped a while ago. Neither of you really knew when it stopped, but neither of you really seemed to care either. Normally you hated the silence, but right now it felt so much different. Your senses were overwhelmed by the man that was now shifting to lay beside you. Your eyes grew heavy as you smiled fondly over at him. He noticed how sleepy you looked and took it upon himself to get you both back inside. It was too chilly to be sleeping out here with no blanket, and with the spring weather, there was no telling if it would start raining in the middle of the night or in the morning.

Daryl brought himself to his hands and knees, and you watched. He had to stay in that position for a moment while he steadied his vision. "shit, might'a smoked too much," he chuckled, and you chuckled back. "You're such a lightweight," you teased, and he shot you a playful look. "Hey, you just wait til I'm smokin' ya under the table, I used to smoke my big brother under the table," he snickered, and you rolled your eyes. Watching as he stood to his feet, but you had no motivation to move.

He extended his arm for you to grab, but you just stared up at him. He smirked, reaching down to grab your hand. "C'mon, boy, ain't gonna shit talk me then just lay there," he quipped, and you groaned. Grabbing his hand back while letting him pull you to your feet. It was like nothing to him, lifting you off the ground, and it made you wonder if he could just carry you to bed. Your wobbly legs seemed to ask the question for you though because before you knew it Daryl was sweeping you into his arms.

The yelp that you let out made him snicker, "Quiet, people are sleeping'," he joked, and you wrapped your arms snugly around his neck. "Oh, so you tickled me and had us both laughing, but you draw a line at me shouting because you picked me up while I'm high? Dick." you scoffed, and he rolled his eyes, reaching back to the ground to grab the stereo. His shoulder rested against a pillar for a second to gather his balance again. He was going to pass out the moment his head hit that pillow and he knew it. He walked you both back to your room, neither of you saying a word in the process.

Once you were in the bedroom, he set the stereo down on the end of the bed before lying you down. He was going to leave and head back to his own room. Leave you with your own bed, but when you grabbed his hand he stopped. His blue eyes stare down at you while tilting his head to the side with a questioning gaze. "Can you stay?" The corner of his lip tugged up when you asked that. His insides were bubbling and his heart was fighting against the restraints of his chest plate. "Yeah, scoot over," he hummed. If he was sober he'd have asked you if you were sure, but he was too stoned to even think about dragging himself down the hall to his own bed. Plus, it'd give him an excuse to actually hold you. It wasn't like you two weren't just eating each other's faces a moment before anyways.

You shifted over for the man. Daryl lying beside you after reaching down to untie his boots and then toe them off his feet. He stayed a distance from you, but that didn't last too long. Soon you were scooting back into his arms, the both of you holding each other incredibly close before you each relaxed. Even if you weren't the strongest thing, he felt so incredibly safe with your arms around him. Like nothing bad would ever happen to him again. You feel the same with his arms snug around your waist. "Night, Daryl," you muttered against his chest. A soft grunt left his lips since he was already pretty much asleep. Sleep took over you right after.

The next day Maggie had come to Daryl's door. Knocking since he hadn't been up already, worry taking over her at that fact. He was always up before everyone else. It seemed like the moment that sun was rising he was wide awake. Ready to take on the world and more. When there was no answer she called his name, peaking inside the door with furrowed brows. "Daryl?" She called, but no one was there. Maybe he went out on a hunt? Even with all the food they had in the communities, they'd always find him out getting squirrels and rabbits, the occasional deer here or there.

Before she landed on that decision though she went to check your room. Raising her hand to knock, but right as she did that door came swinging open. He was standing in the doorway and his brows shot up at the fact that she had caught him leaving your room so early. "Sleep well?" She asked with a knowing smile, and he felt his face go hot. "Slept fine," he muttered, and her smile was even wider at how bashful her friend got. The way his eyes darted to the side, and he seemed to block you from view with his body when she tip-toed to look over him to see you where she assumed you would be in bed. "You two do somethin?" She asked, and he scoffed. "No, ain't nun'a yer business if we did," She giggled, stepping back to allow him to exit the doorway and step into the hall. Daryl peeked behind himself to see you sleeping before he shut the door. "Are you guys...?" "Dammit Maggie, I came here to help you, not ya're damn twenty questions." He snarled while stomping down the hall, Maggie standing in place while watching the man with a grin. "Takin' that as a yes."

#Daryl Dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd

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