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stevenose · 7 months

Text

𝖆𝖇𝖇𝖊𝖞 (18+)

kinktober: incubus!steve edition

summary: there’s something alluring about this stranger, especially when you stare into his eyes….

contains: gender unspecified reader; hypnosis (therefore, this fic is dubcon); oral (reader receiving); body worship; possessiveness; overstimulation; mind break; unprotected sex/coming inside + breeding kink; talk of somno

word count: 4.7k

a/n: hope you enjoy <3 title is from the mitski song of the same name :)

The lights in the gas station sound like they’re screaming overhead. It’s another dead shift. You occasionally glance up from your book - a collection of poems by Charles Bukowski - to scan the parking lot. The last time a car rolled up to the pumps was 12:32. Now, it’s 1:27. Your shift ends in a little over half an hour.

You sigh, humming. The room around you feels claustrophobic, filled with bright packages of candy and soda bottles. Behind you, stacks of cigarettes tower over the register. If your boss decided to add any other thing to the store, it’d be impossible to walk through. You contemplate yet again why you’re here before remembering your insomnia and night terrors, and you go back to your book.

“Hi.”

You jump. No more than five seconds have passed since you looked around. You look up from your book to find a slender, toned man standing in front of you. The fluorescents, which typically make your stomach turn, seem warm on his highlighted brunette hair. It falls in messy strands over his forehead. Thick brows quirk ever so slightly, an amused grin tugging at his plush lips. He has a straight, strong nose and freckles forming constellations over the skin of his neck. He wears all black, golden flesh peaking out here and there, toned biceps almost menacing as they strain in his t-shirt.

He’s familiar, but you’re not sure how. You know he’s never been in before. If he had, you’d have been hoping he’d come in again. You have vague recollections of him, like he’s from a dream or something just as distant and untouchable. Your eyes land on his. They resemble melted chocolate and you swear they’re swirling. You instantly feel relaxed, your hand’s grip on your book slipping.

“Hi,” he says again. His voice is smooth and calm.

You lick your lips. “Hi.”

His eyes flit down to your book, and you’re quick to catch it. “Bukowski?”

“I’m sorry?”

He nods down. “Bukowski?” he repeats.

“Oh.” You run your hands over the hard canvas cover of the book. “Y- yeah. For - for class.”

“You don’t just read him for fun?”

You lick your lips, suddenly self-conscious of them. “He’s kind of an asshole.”

His shoulders move like he’s chuckling, but no sound comes out.

“Could I get a pack of Marlboro?”

You keep staring into his eyes. They’re so warm and inviting - so is he. A welcome reprieve from your snack-filled prison. You slowly nod, and the man grins prettily as he watches you force your eyes away to search behind you for the red and white box. Your fingers shake, mind spinning. Who is he? How do I know him?

“Hard, isn’t it?”

You pause. “I’m sorry?”

“Finding the right pack,” he says. “Look to your left, two rows down. See ‘em?”

You’re still trembling when you find them. You turn around with a nod, heart hammering. “Th- thank you.”

“Thank you,” he counters, reaching forward to take them from your hands. His own are warm and soft, and they linger while your eyes get caught on his again. “I love seeing you get empty-headed like this.”

You barely understand what he’s said. “Huh?”

The man chuckles, slipping his fingers and the pack of Marlboros away from yours. He taps them on the old wooden countertop and looks you up and down. If you weren’t so enchanted, you’d realize he’s looking at you funny. Not very warm. He’s looking at you like you’re prey.

“You got a light you could lend me there, sweet thing?”

It’s harder to pull away from him this time. As you force yourself to dig through the register for your small red Bic lighter, the man frowns. He smiles again when you look back at him, wonder in your eyes. You try to hand it to him, but he shakes his head as he unwraps his cigarettes and places one between his straight white teeth.

He talks through the filter. “Be good and light it for me.”

You don’t even think about it. Your thumb quickly flicks the wheel and an orange flame lights on the other side. He raises his brows, making you lean forward to catch the end of the stick on it. You leave it there while he puffs in, eyes trained intensely on yours. You’re so sure they’re moving, the more you look. And you’re so sure you can trust this man, your body relaxed, your mind at ease. You don’t even notice the flame burning you until he takes the lighter from you.

You wince, swearing under your breath as you examine your thumb. The man reaches for it, brows knitting together in concern as he looks at the flame-licked flesh. “Poor baby,” he coos. “Pretty things like you don’t know how to be careful, huh?” His other hand, big and calloused, smooths up and down your forearm. His touch feels electric, making your hair stand up on end. “Pretty things like you need to be taken care of. Isn’t that right?”

You’re inclined to agree with everything he says. “Yes.”

He hums, looking at you through thick lashes. Then he brings your thumb to his mouth and sucks it between his lips. You watch with wide-eyed bewilderment as he sucks on it. His tongue circles it, moving slow and wet, and you notice now how much you ache between your legs. Your knees shake, his tongue hot and smooth on your burnt skin. It makes it hurt more, but you don’t pull away. You let him have his way until your thumb audibly pops out of his mouth and he grins.

“You taste just as good as I remember.”

You blink, chest heaving. You feel the strong urge to climb over the counter and into his arms. But he backs away, doesn’t pay before turning on his heel and heading back to the door. He opens it slightly, before looking back at you over his shoulder.

“Find what you love and let it kill you.”

The door shuts. The bell doesn’t jingle.

You’re confused and so insatiably horny that you could hump the countertop right now. A deep, shuddering breath makes your chest rise and fall as you rip your eyes from the door and try to calm down. The exchange felt like no time had passed, but when you glance back at the digital numbers of your clock, twenty minutes had. Your shift is almost over.

You’ll deal with the ache at home.

You’re stupefied as you drive to your apartment once your coworker relieves you. It takes five minutes to get home but it feels like eternity. You’re exhausted down to your bones. You drag your feet to the door and click the lock back into place once you’re inside. Your neediness is nonexistent now as you trudge to the fridge for a drink of water. You leave the apartment dark, intent on climbing into bed and trying to sleep. You’re well aware it may not happen. Even when you’re tired like this, sometimes you still can’t.

You move to your bedroom in silence. You’re quick to strip your shirt off, throwing it towards the hamper and missing before stepping out of your pants. You hum softly as you reach for the waistband of your underwear.

Suddenly, a hand wraps around your torso.

Soft lips are pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Hi.”

A body presses against yours, something hard pressing into your ass as you’re bent forward. You feel stuck, and yet your arousal has come back tenfold in the span of a single second. You whimper, uncertain and confused and a little scared.

“It’s just me,” he says. “You know me, don’t you?”

In the dark of your bedroom, it clicks. You’ve dreamed of him, the man from the gas station. Ever present and mostly comforting after sleepless nights. You remember his body on yours, shushing you, promising nothing but pleasure. You never felt very rested after these dreams. And sometimes, they weren’t dreams, but nightmares. You felt protected by him, but sometimes, his body would grow heavier on yours - lips biting at you, pain searing through your body while he moaned that you’d stay there with him. You always woke up.

But now….

“You do remember, huh?” he says, pulling you upwards against his chest. One of his large hands wraps around your neck and his fingers lock gently around your jaw. He presses a kiss to your cheek. “I’ve missed you. Always coming home from your long shifts when I had to return to my realm.” He chuckles and nuzzles his nose behind your ear. “Missed you so much I decided I’d come visit you when you were awake instead.”

You’re suddenly flipped around, your bare chest pressed against his. The man is just as handsome as ever, now naked, the only thing separating you from him a thin pair of underwear. You’re able to see the toned muscles of his biceps and, faintly in the dark, you can see the curvature of what looks like two wings on his back. His eyes capture yours again. Warm, dark and honey-like, thick and syrupy. They are swirling. You feel relaxed, heavy - but you fight it, even more uncertain than before.

He scoffs and cups your cheek with one hand while the other slides down your torso. He keeps your eyes locked on his, watching your brows connect and disconnect in amusement. “Lean into it, sweetheart. Let it take care of you. Let me take care of you. I’ve done it before.”

You aren’t expecting his nimble fingers to tuck between your thighs, but it shocks you enough that your resolve diminishes. Your body is anchored to the floor before him and ready and willing to take anything he gives you. Right now, that’s his digits, sliding along your perspiring skin. “See how aroused you are? Your body remembers me. It remembers who you belong to, doesn’t it?”

You nod, mouth falling open slowly as the ecstasy of his fingers and swirling eyes lull you deeper.

How did you ever think you didn’t belong to him? How could you forget him?

“There you are,” he beams. “There’s that pretty submission. You’ll do anything I ask.”

“Anything,” you repeat softly.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You.”

“Who am I?”

You have to search for it. You know it, somewhere, somehow.

“Come on,” he coos. His fingers touch a particularly sensitive spot, forcing your knees to buckle. He catches you, smiling still. Predatory, amused with you. “It’s in that pretty head of yours.”

“Steve.”

“Mhm,” he praises. “It’s been so long since I’ve heard you say it.”

You’re wrapped up under him with nowhere to go. You don’t have to look into his eyes anymore to be his. He claims you, lips pressing against yours, kissing you heavy and hot and desperate. He holds you up with an arm wrapped around you while the other stays firm between your legs, making you quiver and shake. Your mind is a blank slate every time his tongue laps across yours, or when his teeth pierce the flesh of your lip.

He talks to you between kisses. “I’m. Not ever. Letting you get away from me. Again.”

You gasp, arch, and keen in his arms, closer and closer to tumbling, to your stomach snapping. Your fingernails dig into his biceps, pinching the skin, and he groans happily.

“You’ve never felt me like this before,” he smiles. “Not while you’re awake.”

You shake your head, lips quivering, eyes hazy with tears and pleasure.

“Hmm.” Steve rests his forehead against yours. “Cum.”

Your back arches into him and you cry as you do, legs shaking, mind lost. A little drop of drool sneaks past your kiss-bitten lips. Steve licks it up happily, feeding off of everything you give him and everything he gives you. The hand buried inside of your ruined underwear finally pulls them down around your ankles.

“Bed.”

You move quickly, letting your back hit the cool sheets. It warms up quickly with your burning skin on it. He doesn’t follow, however. He’s imposing as his shadowed figure watches you from afar, strong arms folded across his hair dusted chest. Soft, dark wings protrude above his shoulders. Anxiety creeps into you and sits heavy in your stomach with your want until he speaks.

“Spread your legs and touch yourself.”

You do. Shaking legs part and your hand creeps downwards. You don’t have the headspace to protest the slight pain that accompanies your touch, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. The pleasure seems to take over, anyway. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before - a thick, viscous feeling that settles bone-deep in every part of you. You sigh and shiver, skin prickling as you continue.

Steve’s eyes are darker now. He watches you intensely. “I know you haven’t had the time to do this for a while. You’re so sensitive and eager - you crave cumming, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan, already feeling the intensity growing in your lower stomach.

“Your fingers are nothing compared to mine, though, huh? Nothing will ever be like my cock fucking deep inside of you, stretching you to bursting, will it?”

“No!” You want it so bad. You have a vague memory of it, of his cock making you cry in pain and pleasure, his big hands pinning you down. It makes you ache deeply, but you’re in no position to beg. Not unless he instructs you to.

“Try. Use your stupid fingers and fuck yourself.”

They slide in easily, to your surprise. You gasp and keen, back arching off the soft mattress below and into the cold air of the room. You’re quick to slide three fingers inside of you, something that would usually hurt but just feels like nothing now. You whine, frustrated, your impending orgasm slowly drifting away from you. You shut your eyes so tight they hurt, trying to get it back, and when you open them Steve is on top of you.

“You can’t make yourself cum anymore.” His voice drops with fake pity, looking at you with an entertained pout. “Only I can give that to you. You belong to me.”

He takes your wrist and pulls your hand away, quirking his head as he examines it. Then he slides your fingers into his mouth, tasting you, as a single finger replaces them inside of you. Steve moans, black eyes drifting shut, wet tongue swirling around your fingers as he crooks his. You wail, so full on just one of his digits - and how does he know exactly where to push and press? You’re arching up again, ripping your fingers from his lips to grip the sheets.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” he coos, sliding a second finger in. It stretches you so much your eyes cross. “I can’t wait to see your face when I get my cock inside of you. Only ever saw it when you were dreaming….”

Steve kisses you. His lips are a sharp contrast to his touch and demeanor. He kisses you like he loves you. So slow and methodical, leaving you breathless and needy and clenching hard around his fingers. You can’t think of anything other than him. His lips taste like vanilla, so sweet, addictive. You chase them, whimpering into his mouth every time his fingers brush across your most sensitive spots. He chuckles as he pulls his head back slightly just to watch you follow him.

“Good pet,” he beams, proud. But instead of rewarding you he slides his fingers away, leaving you perpetually on the cusp of pleasure. Your eyes well with tears and he gently pats your cheek, marking it with your arousal. “Don’t cry. Be good for me, be patient. I need to take my time with you.”

Endearingly, he rubs his nose against yours. You relax and let your eyes fall shut, though they don’t want to. You’d like to drink him in.

“You are going to be good for me, aren’t you? Just like you always were?” he asks, hands moving to softly cup your chest. He laughs suddenly. “Of course you are. I’ve already marked you as mine, haven’t I?”

Your head nods in its own accord. It's a fact. You’re his.

“I’m your guardian angel,” he continues, hands exploring your body. They’re calloused and cruel and yet so welcome against your skin. “‘m always watching you, darling. Here to save you from a life of nothing. From all those sick men that tried to have their way with you. Did you know they couldn’t have you? That my cum’s already marked you? Would you have given yourself to them?”

“No,” you whisper. “Never.”

He moans and finally kisses your neck, directly on a sensitive spot. You moan and reach for him, splaying your hands out on his back. It tickles, supernaturally so, a shiver creeping slowly down your spine. The pleasure makes your mind blank again, sends your legs upwards to wrap around his waist. You feel his hard cock press against your own arousal and you gasp - he’s freezing. You moan, high-pitched and needy.

“There we go,” Steve grins, kissing across your throat. His fingers pinch at your nipples. “Missed that sound so much, makes my cock so hard, honey. You feel it?” He pushes his hips forward, knocking his cock against you. Not only is he cold, he’s thick and long. You moan a little louder, hips bucking upwards towards him. “Uh-huh, still so drunk on my cock after a few weeks, aren’t you? Can’t believe I fell for such an angel.”

Your nails dig into his back, just by his wings, as he sucks a harsh hickey into your neck. You shudder and keen, the overwhelming horniness hitting you again like a freight train. You fuck yourself against his cock, shivering at the cold. Steve’s lips find your nipples as he kisses downwards and he takes a chance to worship them. His tongue swirls around the peaks and you cry out desperately. Your hands move up to his hair, tangling and tugging in the thick brown locks. Steve groans and ruts his cock against you again. The feeling is overwhelming, like you could lose yourself just from this, from being played with. A bruise blooms across your pec as Steve pulls away, immediately attaching his mouth to the other.

“Steve,” you whimper, tugging his hair harshly. You’re under his spell, but your frustration has grown to an imperceivable level. He growls, reaching up to pull your hands from his hair and pin them beside your head. The impatient evil is clear in his eyes when he looks at you now, and you’re quick to shy away from him.

“You’ll be good for me,” he says sternly. “You’ll lay here and take what I give you and do as I ask.”

You nod, lips parted in ecstasy as he grinds his cock against you again.

“Shouldn’t have waited so long, huh? Knew you’d get so fucking needy,” he mumbles, pulling back to examine your sweat-slick skin. “You’re too goddamn pretty when you’re under me like this.”

Suddenly, he slides downwards, until he’s facing your arousal. You’re obedient and still, eyes focused up on the ceiling. To your surprise, he presses his nose against you and inhales deeply. Even his nose against you makes your hips jerk and a moan tumble from your lips.

“Y’smell incredible,” he murmurs. “And you taste so sweet.”

His tongue licks a broad stripe upwards. Your eyes roll back and you grind against his nose, shouting with a weak cry. Steve laughs. Your desperation heightens with each little kitten-lick he gives you. You keep still this time, though.

“I’ve been waiting to worship this,” he mutters. He lifts your legs to settle the backs of your knees over his shoulders. The leathery softness of his wings tickles the back of your calves. “Should be in my mouth all the fuckin’ time.”

You cry when his wet tongue engulfs you. There’s no gentle build-up. He eats you like he’s starved for it, which he has been. No other victim has ever been as addictive and sweet as you. He’s chased it for nights on end before realizing that you’re made for him. The universe invented you for him. And he won’t let it take you away from him, not again.

“I’m never letting you leave,” he says between broad licks. “I’m going to take such good care of you.”

You moan, whine, beg for him while his mouth continues to lick and suck. He’s making a mess on the bed beneath you. Steve��s hands grip at your thighs harshly, nails biting into them. It’s hardly been two minutes and you’re ready to cum again.

You’re a vessel for pleasure and you’ll take what he gives you greedily.

“You’re close, huh?” he asks, sliding his hands up to lace your fingers through his. “Want you to cum in my mouth - gotta taste you.”

You nod as your chest heaves and hips twitch. Your mouth falls open and your thighs squeeze around his head, but he never stops his ministrations. If anything he tries harder. His tongue fucks you, feeling much longer than it did when it was buried in your mouth. And when he isn’t licking, he’s sucking, with such perfect pressure that he keeps you on the precipice of cumming. The pleasure tightens in your abdomen but it never fully snaps. You’re about to hyperventilate, tears pricking your eyes, completely at his mercy.

Just when you think your brain will snap, he commands, mouth full of you, “Cum.”

And you do.

You cry out until your voice is hoarse, fingers squeezing Steve’s, body rigid and eyes rolling back. He stares up at you with those pretty eyes, watching and feeling you convulse on him. But he doesn’t stop. Even when you’ve come down and start whining from the constant stimulation. It’s only when tears start streaming down your cheeks and you sob loudly that he stops. Steve climbs over you quickly and catches your tears on his tongue. He groans lowly at the taste.

“Always been so pretty when you cry,” he muses, his wet tongue licking up your cheek. It tickles and if you weren’t under a trance you’d probably think it was gross. “Need to be inside you, I can’t wait anymore.”

You spread your legs wide for him to nestle in between them. “Look at me,” he instructs, so you prop yourself up onto your elbows to look down at him. You watch in wonder while he jerks his cock. It’s thicker and longer than you’d initially thought just by feeling him. Precum pools down his pale shaft. A little mole offsets a thick vein sprawling up the underside. His balls are heavy - your body craves the cum inside of them. You’ve surely never taken something so thick and big - or, not while awake, at least.

“It’ll fit,” Steve promises, as if he can read your mind. “I’ve made it fit before. Spread your legs real wide for me, let me see the mess I made.”

You spread your legs a little wider. Steve pushes you gently back down onto your back and towers over you. He’s handsome in the soft moonlight, streaming through a thin curtain. His eyes seem to glow.

“Relax,” he commands, and you do. Every muscle in your body goes lax. He smiles and kisses your forehead. “Good pet,” he laments, lining the tip of his cock up with your hole. It’s still freezing. You shiver and he smiles in sympathy. “I know, you’ve never liked it. It’s going to hurt at first, but you’ll love it soon. I know you will.”

You nod and let him maneuver your legs up over his shoulders again. You’re forced in half. It makes it a little hard to breathe, but Steve still commands, “Take a deep breath for me.”

Your breath shudders as air fills your lungs. It’s quickly punched out of you when he sheathes his cock inside in one fluid shove.

The memory of him fucking you comes back so clearly. The stretch. The feeling of him in your lungs. The plushness of his balls resting against your ass. The sharp pain deep inside of you. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whine, throwing your head to the side.

“It’s okay,” he soothes. “You’re going to take it.”

His hips roll out, granting you temporary relief, before driving back in. Your eyes fly open, mouth dropping, brows furrowing. Steve nods, swirling eyes excited. “Fuck,” he groans lowly, pushing in harder as if he could get any deeper. “Squeezin’ the shit out of me, pretty baby, look - look at that, knew you could take me. You open right up for me, don’t you?”

Your chin meets your chest as you look down to where you’re connected. You can see how tight your walls hug him.

“Look how you’re suckin’ me in,” he growls. “Fuck, my cock missed stretching this hole open.”

You nod wordlessly. You’re starting to drool on yourself. Steve grins and surges forward to kiss you again. It’s much different from the soft gentleness he gave before. His lips overtake yours, moving faster than yours can keep up with, enveloping your mouth and licking into it. It temporarily distracts you as his cock drills you, forcing out moans from you. Steve licks them up, tongue massaging yours sloppily. You taste yourself on him. The position he’s fucking you in makes his cock hit so deep - it feels so good. So good that you start crying and writhing under him.

“Uh-huh,” he grits, biting your bottom lip harshly and tugging it towards him before letting it go. “Be good, be my little fucktoy, honey, let me ruin this hole again - m-make you mine forever.”

“Yours forever,” you cry, breathless.

Steve growls. His black eyes stare at the side of your face, your head thrown to the side again in bliss. “You aren’t going anywhere,” he promises. “Gonna stay here on my fat cock all fucked out f-for the rest of eternity. All mine, fuckin’ bred up - oh, fuck - gonna breed you.”

A part of you is terrified of this, but a much louder part of you needs it. Your head straightens and you stare at him wide eyed and needy, pouting. He bites your lip again, fucks the breath out of you until you feel like you’re suffocating.

“Tell me,” he urges, fucking you deep and slow. “Tell me you’ll build a world with me.”

You nod, lost in his eyes. “I’ll build with you.”

Steve reaches down to play with you, forcing you closer to your third orgasm. “I love you,” he moans. “Love you, never gonna l-let you go, gonna keep you nice and f-full and happy.”

“I love you,” you sob.

Steve shivers. “Only me?”

You nod, tightening around him. “Only you, only you, only you!”

“Cum,” he moans, and you do again, just as he presses his lips to yours. With a groan, he shoves himself all the way inside of you and cums in thick, sticky, hot ropes. His balls contract against your ass as he fills you up. You throw your head back, biting down on your tongue while he strokes you through it. “Yes, yes, take it, so fucking good and pretty, I - mmmmph!”

You’re desperate to catch your breath as you settle. Steve lets your legs fall from his shoulders gently. He eyes you hungrily as he slowly withdraws his cock. He’s cum so far inside of you that none of it leaks out - not yet, at least. You’re fucked stupid under him, eyes crossed, drool at the corner of your mouth. He kisses it away.

“Just rest,” he whispers, pulling your sheets over your body. “Let it take, sweetheart. Keep those legs closed for me now. And when you wake up, I need you to quit your job for me. Got it? Can’t have them taking you away from me again.”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll take such good care of you,” he promises, kissing your forehead as you begin to doze off.

#steve harrington smut #stevenose posts #ns/fw #steve x reader #kinktober 2023 #kinktober 23

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frosted-hyacinth · 3 months

Text

You have a bad day

Feat. sae itoshi

Tags. fluff

cw. near-death experience (if there are any more, please let me know)

You practically collapsed on your chair after you finished the huge mountain load of work and documents. After how tiring and mentally draining your day was. You'd almost gotten hit by a car that screeched to a halt after seeing you in front of it, crossing the road. It was a green light so you proceeded to walk across the road, looking around to check if there were any cars around. After making sure that there were none, you crossed the road only to be met with headlights in your face and the loud noise of brakes. You were shocked, after all, you almost got killed on your way to work. You stood there stunned before seeing the flashing red numbers on the traffic light and ran towards the sidewalk. You were expecting to continue on your way to work peacefully, continuing on your day like you hadn't almost died but just before you could take a step forwards, the driver of the car decided that this incident was entirely your fault and logically, the only thing they could have done was to open their car window and start screaming at you.

They thought that it was because of your carelessness that they could almost have been sent to prison yet the driver was the one who almost ran a red light. So you just sped up and walked to your work building. As you finally arrived at the building, you set your stuff on your desk and sat down on your chair, opening your computer screen since you were preparing to pick up on the work you were doing yesterday. Before you could open the document, your co-worker tapped you on the shoulder. You didn’t notice but she had been silent walking behind you while you got your things prepared.

“The boss asked for you.” She said, a smile on her face.

“Thanks Mika.” You replied with a similar smile then took your laptop with you to walk towards a glass covered room. These types of rooms made you nervous, not only because every time you came into these types of rooms you were going to have serious conversations but also because the room itself felt scary. Sometimes it could be claustrophobic and feel like the perfect environment to have panic attacks but this time, you were seeing your boss. The one that helped you keep your job but also the one that could fire you at any moment. You couldn’t just break down in front of them, that could make you risk your job that you’d worked so hard on finding! You walked into the room with some non-existent confidence that was made last moment, taking a deep breath before your eyes were met with the very direct eye contact of your boss.

Her eyes were still on your but she gestured for you to take a seat on the chair in front of you, an order to which you easily complied to. The two of you sat in uncomfortable silence for a few seconds that felt like hours. If you had to sit there any longer in silence, you felt like you would suffocate. Thankfully, before you could die mentally, your boss spoke up.

"I have been... Watching your work that you hand in, and I've noticed some things about the pattern that you give me your work. You tend not to finish you work as fast as other employees and to try to make your adaptive skills better, I have decided to assign you an amount of work that you must finish today." She said while reaching under her desk and handing you a pile of papers and documents.

You nodded slowly then was motioned to get out of the room and resume your activities with the workload that your boss had just given you.

You walked as quickly as possible out of the room as an attempt to get more time to work done.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You sighed, clicking off your pen and shutting down your laptop. You were finally done. When you walked into the elevator, you heard a small ding sound coming from your phone so you turned it on.

Sae: When are you coming home

When you saw that text, you let out a small chuckle as you realised that you forgot to tell your boyfriend that you would be coming home a little bit later than usual due to the work that you had to quickly finish. You stepped out of the elevator once it had reached the floor you needed then you replied to the text that Sae had sent you with some explanations to why you were late but not much else other than that. You didn't send him the time that you'd get home since it was dark out. When you sent the message to him, it had the symbol that it was sent underneath the text and just as soon as that appeared, it was read by Sae.

Sae: Do you need a ride

You looked out of the building. It was snowing. So it was cold, slippery and dark outside... Not the best combination, not the safest either... You responded with a quick and straight forwards, yes.

Sae: I'll be there in five

And now you were set to wait five minutes before your ride arrived.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Sae's car arrived in front of the building, you saw so you walked out of the warm building towards the car. Just before you entered the car, a large gust of wind caught you off guard, making you shiver and stumble backwards before opening the car door and entering the car. You slid swiftly into the front seat of Sae's car, when you made contact with the seat's leather, a large and fluffy jacket was placed over your body, covering your head as well. You pushed the jacket off your head and smiled at Sae, buckling your seatbelt. When you smiled at him, he saw a glint of stress in your eyes but right now, it seemed like all you wanted to do was go home. He'd ask you about it later but for now he'd focus on driving.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

You and Sae changed into a comfortable sweater, you having stolen a hoodie from his closet. When you finished changing, he quickly pulled you to the couch, on his lap, making sure that you were comfortable then he looked directly into your eyes.

"Did anything happen today?" He asked, tone dead serious. "..Yes'' He continued staring at you, initiating a silent request for you to tell him what happened. You were hesitant to tell him but continued anyway, listing everything that happened, from almost getting killed by a car on your way to work to getting overwhelmed with work. When you were done saying everything, you asked him if he could watch Howl's Moving Castle with you to unravel from the day, he silently agreed then proceeded to turn on the tv, playing the movie you mentioned. For half the movie, you watched with your head nuzzled into your boyfriend's chest until you dozed off.

He stayed in this position with you for a few hours, almost falling asleep in the process but he managed to somehow stay awake. He quietly crept out of your grasp, grabbing his phone and wallet from the table, getting ready to use any and all contacts he possibly could to try and fire your boss and make the life of the person who had almost killed you, a living hell. So don't be surprised if you wake up to find that your boss has been fired. It shouldn't be shocking if you have a boyfriend like Sae.

-I don't actually have a job so... This is probably inaccurate. I also don't know how this ended up this long but... Also, I don't have much on Sae's personality so he might also be a little out of character. 映

#sae itoshi #sae itoshi fluff #sae itoshi x reader fluff #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae #itoshi sae fluff #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff #bllk imagines #⌕ 茶ʳᵉⁿ'ˢ ᵍᵃʳᵈᵉⁿ

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imtheasssniffer · 4 months

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It’s safe to say that life had gotten really complicated for you. After you mysteriously shrunk down to less than three inches, you were forced to leave college for safety reasons, and live back at home with your parents. Not knowing what to do with you, and afraid that she might lose you your mom put you in the laundry machine. It kept you safe from getting crushed or lost, and allowed you to have the privacy you wanted. This meant though, that she wasn’t able to do laundry while you lived in there. You were minding your business watching a movie on your giant phone, cause it was all you could really do, when you saw a shadow loom outside the machine, you knew your mom wasn’t home, and were surprised to see your dad, because he never came into the laundry room. You paused the movie, and watched as he angrily paced in front of the machine angrily throwing around the piles of dirty clothes outside of the machine. Finally he acknowledged you, glaring through the glass at your tiny body. He opened the door, and without a word filled the opening with his ass. You were so stunned you couldn’t say anything. You just watched in horror, as a massive fart echoed into the cylindrical space. The sound bouncing off of the metal walls. The smell began to descend on you, and you coughed choking on the rancid scent. You then watched in horror as your father slammed the door, locking you in a stinky gassy prison. There was nothing to absorb the smell except for you. You banged on the walls and he laughed.

“How does it feel,” he teased poking at the glass.

“Your mother hasn’t been able to wash clothes in forever. I’m tired of it.” You continued to choke on the rancid stink he left behind.

“Now you have to live with the stink you created.” He smiled an evil smile, and chuckled a little getting a sick sense of joy from your suffering. He turned around, and picked up some clothes from the ground. He opened the door, and you inhaled, relieved to get fresh air, and then a heavy black cloth landed on top of you. Smelling of intense musk and ball funk. You came out from underneath to watch in horror as your father began to throw every pair of dirty underwear into the machine. By the end of it nearly twenty pairs of underwear lined the bottom of the metal container. You started to beg, but he just roughly threw a pair at you. You couldn’t escape. You both knew that. The drop was too far for you to land safely, so you just had to endure the stench that was quickly starting fill the space. You knew now, way too intimately what your dads dick smelled like, and the stench made you sick. Just as you thought it was over you again watched in terror as he began to act more mad than before. Now taking off his pants, and stripping down to boxer briefs. They were nasty. There were apparent stains all around the pouch. He grabbed his crotch and shook it angrily, saying,

“You see this mess, I haven’t changed my underwear in over a week and a half! Because of you!” He then began to shimmy out of them. You watched as his saggy balls shook as he hopped out of his briefs. His uncut dick swinging just above you. Allowing you to see the back of his underwear which was worse than the front, a long brown streak stained the crack of his underwear. He threw the nasty pair in the machine. The stained, wet pouch landing on your body. You picked it off of you. Gagging at the rancid and strong stench of piss and balls. He slammed the machine and left. Leaving you to bask in the filthy aroma of all his dirty underwear. You wanted to cry. The stink was so intense you got a migraine, and for once the space felt claustrophobic. A few minutes passed by of what felt like hell. The underwear that flooded the machine not only radiated a stink but a heat, and it felt like you were in an inferno. You began to sweat, adding your own musk into the mix, although it was minuscule compared to the overwhelming scent of your fathers undergarments.

Suddenly he returned, still wearing no pants. His dick flopping around with each step. He abruptly opened the door, and hope filled your body, you ran up to the entrance expecting him to let you out, but you were swiftly disappointed, as his ass entered the machine again, only this time, completely nude, and significantly closer to you.

BBbRrRrAaSSSPpTtT

Another huge 5 second fart rang out. This one sputtering and wet. The smell was toxic, and made you feel sick. You dry heaved as he slammed the door. You beat on the glass hopelessly. Again suffocating in your father’s malicious gas. He laughed at your weak attempt and placed his ass against the glass door. Spreading his cheeks, so you could see his hole as it sputtered another fart. Echoing across the glass. He laughed. Clearly enjoying teasing and torturing you. You fell down, defeated. He had successfully broken you. And just when you thought he was done. The door opened again. This time he grabbed his rancid, ripe, fresh pair of underwear and put them back on. You thought this meant the end of his torture, until he picked you up. He lifted you up to his face and smiled,

“I can’t tell if I want your face in my shit, or if you want your face in my hole so I can spray you with shit.” You got the chills. Pure terror and disgust filled your body, and you began to panic flailing in his fingers. “I guess we’ll see how lucky I get,” he said bringing you around to his ass, and dropping you in the back of his underwear, you screamed terrified of what awaited below. You fell facing his ass. Feeling his hair tickle your face, and the crust of his skid mark behind you. He adjust his underwear until you were face to face with his hole. Aligned perfectly with the puckering ring of muscle. It almost engulfed your face as he flexed it, squeezing and releasing his hole, so it rubbed all over you. You felt him grab and readjust his crotch, as he played with his hole, and then he started walking. Each step you were strewn about his hole. Getting dragged along the surface of his ring, left, right, left right. The stink was sinking into your skin, and as if it couldn’t get worse you felt his hole loosen, and heard as gas made it’s way from deep within him to your face. You gagged as a silent hissing fart burned your nostrils. Smelling like burned rubber, meat and general ass the smell was overwhelming. Your eyes began to water, and you thrashed feeling violent from the intense aroma that was produced. You heard your dad chuckle above, and then a loud, yet quick toot shot out. You could tell he forced it out too, by how hard he clenched. Pretty soon he wasn’t forcing them out, as his hole loosened. He joked about having to take a shit, and after spending the rest of the night in his underwear you realized how he got such bad skid marks.

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chloedrewitt · 2 years

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Hi, could you write fic about Aemond House of Dragon where OC is Rhaeyneras “strong” daughter. And if plot could go OC was made Prisoner of Aegon ii during dance of dragons.OC and Aemond Are forced to get Married. Eventually they have kids, feel in love and Rule kingdoms aa king and queen and bring peace to boath sides

𝘽𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 - 𝘼𝙚𝙢𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙏𝙖𝙧𝙜𝙖𝙧𝙮𝙚𝙣 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 [𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 1]

summary: You are taken prisoner by Aegon II and kept in a cell until he calls for an audience, during which you find out that your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, has agreed to a peace contract between the Blacks and the Greens. You, as Rhaenyra’s heir, are to marry the eldest, unmarried son of King Viserys and Queen Alicent; Aemond Targaryen. This is an unwanted surprise for both of you, and you find it hard to make an effort. But when Aemond takes you to your dragon for a ride, seemingly against his brother’s wishes, you slowly begin to find comfort in his company.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader

word count: 3.9k

warnings: none

a/n: Thank you so much for the request, I loved the idea! I made a couple of changes to the canon to make sure this story worked out the way I envisioned it based on the request 💗

Part 2 will be about the wedding and their future!

Part 2

Request status: open [info]

Taglist:

If you wish to be added to or removed from the character taglist, please comment underneath this post.

Masterlist - Ko-fi

The material of your dress irritated your skin, and even though you adjusted the lace collar multiple times, it only seemed to make it worse. Dirt covered you where your skin was exposed, and strands of your dark hair were now falling in your face, nothing but a phantom of the beautiful updo your maid had braided your hair into this morning.

For a prison cell, the room was moderately sized, so you did not feel claustrophobic, but it did nothing for the moist stone walls and the dirt that covered almost every part of them. Even doing as much as leaning against them, so that your muscles could relax, covered your back in slick muck.

A guard had placed a tray of food at the entrance of your cell hours ago, but you had not touched it. Instead, you’d watched as the steam rising from the bread slowly faded and the goblet of water became polluted by drops that had fallen from the ceiling. You averted your gaze, trying your best to ignore the stinging pain in your stomach.

You should have listened to your mother and not crossed enemy territory, but you had been confident in your and your dragon Zaelix’s abilities. Now, you were in a prison cell and Zaelix most likely laying somewhere in shackles, sedated so he would not fly away.

The tears you had cried hours before were now dry, making it uncomfortable to move a single muscle in your face. Your gaze dropped to your hands, blood underneath your nails the only sign that you had struggled when they’d taken you. It had happened fast, and you could not recall any details, but you knew that the Greens, your own family, were behind this.

Cruel were the wars where blood spilled blood, but that was what happened when you were born into royalty, and you had little problems with it. People made their own choices, and ometimes these choices were not the smartest, as you had to learn first-hand.

Your head was so heavy on your shoulders that you stopped caring about your filthy surroundings and rested it against the wall. There was no bed in the cell, unless one counted the piece of animal fur lying in the corner opposite from you. Which you certainly did not. You were Queen Rhaenyra’s first born, a future Queen in her own right if your side won, which it certainly looked like at the moment.

The Blacks had more allies than the Greens, and in numbers lay strength. Not to mention the army of dragonriders your siblings were raising as you cowered in this cell, consisting of illegitimate Targaryen children with just enough Valyrian blood to bond with one of the feared beasts.

Capturing you was like serving the enemy a means to exert political pressure on your mother. It did not seem to be enough that many of her own followers doubted your heritage, considering you looked nothing like your late father Laenor Velaryon, with your dark hair and sharp features, all of which were traits not commonly associated with Valyrians.

You squeezed your eyes shut, cursing yourself about how you had failed on your mission to secure new allies, hoping that your mother and stepfather at least knew you were alive. He had accepted you like his own, after all, and out of your siblings, you were closest with your mother.

A sound coming from the corridor interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention to the bars separating you from your freedom.

A man stopped before your cell, keychain hanging from his belt as a hood covered most of his face, but judging by the graying stubble which covered his chin, you estimated that he was middle-aged. “Get up,” he barked, but you only gave him a venomous glare.

He took a key from his chain and inserted it into the lock to open the door, which your eyes briefly jumped to. To run would have been foolish, considering you had no idea what the building you were in looked like, or where Zaelix was being kept. Without him, escape was close to impossible. But you had always liked to test your luck.

“Are you deaf, girl?” The prison guard said impatiently as he reached out to pull you up by the arm, but you were quicker. You dodged his hand and elbowed him in the temple, using his momentary startlement to run for the door, but were blocked by another man who stepped from the shadows into the doorframe.

It happened so fast that you could not react, and so you bumped into his chest, which gave him enough physical closeness to take hold of your wrists with his gloved hands.

“Let me go,” you said, struggling to free yourself, but his grip only tightened. You stared at his chest, and the Targaryen sigil which graced his chest. It was hard to see, since it was just as black as the rest of his leather clothes, but you were close enough to make it out.

“I would not be very smart to do that, now, would I?” The man responded as the prison guard behind you grunted, presumably trying to stand after receiving the blow to his head. When you looked up at your captor, you saw that he had only one eye, the other one hidden beneath an eye path, and long, silver hair. This must have been Aemond One-Eye, also known as Aemond Kinslayer for reasons you tried not to think of.

You stopped resisting and angrily stared up at him instead, looking directly into his revealed eye while he firmly kept his hands around your wrists. Your chest was rising and falling rather quickly, as you tried to recover from the previous struggle. The man looked at the guard behind you, an amused smile on his lips.

“Perhaps my brother should reconsider hiring a new prison guard after all, if you are so easily overpowered by a Lady,” he said, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine and his hot breath calming your irritated skin.

“Forgive me, my prince,” rumbled the guard from somewhere behind you, as the prince turned his attention back to you.

“Shall we?” He asked with raised eyebrows, as if you even had a choice in what was about to happen. You simply narrowed your eyes and remained silent, not intending to give him the satisfaction of hearing your protests again.

He let go of one of your wrists and reached behind you, where the prison guard offered him a pair of metal handcuffs. You hissed when he bound your wrists with them behind your back, the cool material not improving the cold feeling you were exposed to.

Wordlessly, he guided you out of the dungeon, the screams of other inmates, which they let out as soon as they laid eyes on the prince and guard, following you while you climbed the staircase. Each step felt as if someone dug knives into your feet, and you tried your hardest not to let it show. Yours was the blood of the dragon, and you would act like it.

Stares followed you as Aemond led you through the halls of the castle. Your looks were less than appealing, and you were sure you scared some of the Ladies in the corridors, with your unkempt hair and the dirt that covered your dress.

You had expected to be brought before Aegon II in a throne room, so your confusion was noticeable when the prince opened a door, which led to a council chamber of sorts, and gently pushed you inside with a hand on your shoulder. He closed the door behind you, and you once again gave him an angry look before fixing your eyes on the figure sitting on the opposite side of the room.

“Aegon, I presume,” you said with disdain in your voice, but he only smiled at you. It was a heartless smile, one that made your blood boil.

“No need for formalities among family, I suppose,” he sighed as he stood from the table he was sitting at, the sound the chair made as it slid across the floor causing the hair on your neck to stand on end.

“Where is my dragon?” Your voice was only slightly shaking, a huge achievement in your eyes.

Aegon laughed, which sounded just as humorless as his smile looked. “You are captured, with close to no chance of escape. You, Queen Rhaenyra’s heir.” There was mockery in his voice, and you had to raise your chin to avoid succumbing to his insult. “And your first question concerns your dragon? Perhaps your mother should have named one of your siblings heir instead.”

You tried to free yourself from the handcuffs, but Aemond was still holding onto you, keeping you from leashing at his king, who was studying you closely with his hands folded behind his back.

“You know you are at a disadvantage. Most of Westeros supports my mother. You will have to slay half of the kingdom to make them accept you as king,” you hissed, and Aemond placed another hand on your shoulder to pull you back, most likely in case you’d try to free yourself again.

Aegon sighed as he walked around the table, tracing its edge with his fingers in the process. “Only a fool would think himself above reason. And trust me, Lady (y/n), I am no fool.” His expression changed for a moment, and you saw a hint of genuine remorse, before his facade returned. “It is why I proposed a peace treaty to your mother, hours after you were found trespassing on our lands.”

You narrowed your eyes, not sure where he was going with this.

“You see, I never intended for any of this to happen, Lady (y/n). At first, I didn’t even think it right to take my sister’s birthright from her.” You remained silent, curious to see what he would say next. “The crown is the most vulnerable when its succession is unclear, and I intend to end the uncertainty in this realm. So I proposed a marriage contract to your mother, and after some negotiations, she agreed.”

You stared in horror as the words reached your ear, and you realized that this marriage contract would most likely involve you somehow. You might have been a bit reckless at times, but you certainly were not a fool, either.

“You already have a wife,” you responded, feeling as though your muscles were paralyzed. The eyeless prince seemed to be just as curious as you, for he took a step forward and let go of your shoulder.

“Indeed I do,” Aegon said, eyes jumping from you to the man beside you. “But my brother does not.”

“And when, pray tell, was I supposed to find out?” His brother asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“You know now, don’t you, Aemond.”

You swallowed. At least now, you had confirmation that this truly was Aemond One-Eye, but the weight attached to this information was almost too heavy to withstand. When you turned your head in Aemond’s direction, you saw that his jaw was tense.

“A warrior does not make a fine husband,” he protested in the most respectful way you could imagine. It was clear he thought highly of his brother.

“I would disagree,” said Aegon, before resting his eyes on you again. “You will be welcomed as a member of this court to officially celebrate the engagement. But make no mistake, Lady (y/n). You will be watched at any moment. This marriage alliance is important, yes, but not more important than my court’s safety. I hope you understand the precautions we must take.” Aegon exchanged one last glance between you and Aemond, before dismissing you both.

You looked at the man so boldly chosen for you as your fiance, before a servant came to escort you. Though the handcuffs remained in place for now, you could already feel just how much of a prisoner you would still be, even without these chains around your wrists.

***

The following days felt like they stretched to infinity, partially because you were left in the dark about what would happen next. Luckily, you were allowed to have breakfast, lunch and dinner with the other Targaryens in the dining room, but always had to be escorted by two guards at least. Especially when you roamed through the castle corridors during the day.

You only saw your fiance during meal time, and he mostly avoided looking at you, which was so painfully obvious that you felt angry just being in his presence most of the time. To Aegon’s credit, he was the only one who tried to break the ice and asked you general questions, such as how you found your chambers, or what kind of food you would prefer for the ceremony.

You had half-expected to remain in your room with only the company of your two guards until the wedding, when you heard a knock from the other side one afternoon, as you were reading a book to try and distract yourself. Knowing fully well that the guards kept a close watch on your room, this must have been one of the Greens.

The book you had been reading became less interesting while irritation made it hard for you to concentrate. Sighing, you placed it aside and rose from your bed to open the door, which revealed Aemond standing before you. You threw a glance at both guards who were standing on either side of the door with their backs turned towards you.

“Princess,” said Aemond, his exposed eye flickering between yours. You clenched your jaw as you let go of the door handle, crossing your arms in front of your chest. So far, he had been the only one to address you with the title you had been born with, even if your conversations had been short and rare.

When you only looked at him silently, he added, “I know this situation is far from ideal, but I wish to make it bearable for both of us.”

You snorted, which made the guards turn their heads slightly. It was probably not every day that they witnessed a supposedly high born woman react like this. “Oh, so I am not a bearable match, is that what you are suggesting?”

Aemond’s eye narrowed before he exhaled deeply, and you found it amusing how easily he could be irritated. “This does not have to be harder than it already is.”

“Doesn’t it?” You asked, sarcasm dripping from every word like poison, as you took a step forward. He did not move, and you had to tilt your head to be able to look him into the eye. Aemond One-Eye had always been described as rather short in comparison to his elder brother, but you realized that this was far from true. He practically towered over you.

“Because I’m finding it difficult to believe that marrying my brother’s murderer is anything but hard,” you hissed, staring daggers into the man, who, instead of retreating, lowered his head so it would be even closer to yours, before replying, “This is war, Lady (y/n).” His voice was surprisingly calm, almost sympathetic in a way. “And we stood on opposite sides. So you can continue to hold a grudge, or at least try to adapt to the situation. It’s what rulers do.”

You hated that he was right, and you hated even more that your gaze dropped to his lips, even if it was just for a second. It had suddenly gotten very hot around you, and you had to put some distance between Aemond and you to be able to breathe again.

“You speak of ruling, yet you are a second born son, and third born child. Your brother has heirs of his own.” You observed his facial expressions closely, but he was skilled enough not to move a muscle. Still, you could not help the feeling that there was something else these people were not telling you, and your mother must have been aware of it, too. You knew her, and she would have never married her heir off without the possibility of them sitting on the throne. You only hoped she had not decided to choose one of your siblings in your stead.

“I wish to make up for the past few days,” Aemond said, ignoring your previous comment. You were not sure what exactly he was referring to, but you decided to hear him out. “So I have arranged for you to see your dragon.”

“Zaelix,” you said with wide eyes, and all disdain you felt for the man momentarily evaporated. “Take me to him. Please.”

Aemond nodded and stepped aside to allow you to leave your room, pulling the door behind you shut. When the guards moved, the prince raised his hand, making them stop in their tracks. “No guards are needed in my presence. Continue to guard the Princess’ quarters.”

Without a word, they remained standing as Aemond placed his hand on your back, guiding you through the corridors and away from prying eyes. You observed the walls, trying to memorize the path that would lead you to your dragon. Though you had given up on an escape, mostly thanks to your mother seemingly agreeing to the engagement, you still felt calmer knowing where you could find Zaelix if you needed him.

“I hope your people have not harmed him,” you said as you kept your gaze locked ahead, but you felt Aemond’s hand on your back tense, as if the sheer accusation was an insult to him.

“I can personally assure you that your dragon has been looked after thoroughly. Despite resisting our dragonkeepers at first. He is very loyal.” You smiled proudly in response.

All doubts were gone when you saw Zaelix outside the castle walls. He was bound to the ground by his foot so that he could only raise himself a few meters into the air. When he saw you, he let out a scream of joy, which would have sounded like more of a predator’s scream to those unfamiliar with these creatures. Zaelix spread out his tattered wings, the accents on his white scales shimmering iridescently in the sunlight, and you even caught Aemond staring at the creature.

Zaelix immediately lowered his head to greet you when you stopped before him, pressing your forehead against the dragon’s cheek, both of you closing your eyes in unison. But when you looked up, you saw that he had been saddled.

“I thought a small trip might do you well. You do not strike me as someone who likes to spend her entire time on land,” Aemond said. You smiled faintly, trying your best to still be angry with him, but Aemond was truly making an effort and you started to feel embarrassed that he was the only one trying. Judging by his reaction when Aegon had proclaimed the marriage plan, he had been just as unaware as you.

When you looked around, though, you noticed that Zaelix was the only dragon on the field.

“Are you letting me go alone?” You asked warily, not believing for a second that anyone from Aegon’s court would allow this.

“Not exactly,” said Aemond, and you saw the hesitance on his face. “Vhagar is still recovering from an injury to her left wing. If you are not against it, I would ride with you.”

You swallowed, but nodded, knowing that it was your closest shot at feeling the wind in your hair again any time soon. As Aemond opened the shackles and then climbed your dragon to settle in the saddle, you pressed your forehead against Zaelix’s scaly skin again, silently ordering the dragon to be at his best behavior. This alliance was fragile as it was, and you were responsible enough not to try anything that could harm your mother or siblings.

After giving Zaelix a gentle pat, you followed Aemond into the saddle, wanting to sit down behind him, but he stopped you. “I think it would be safer if you sat before me,” he explained, and you simply looked at him for a few moments more before lowering yourself into the saddle between his legs.

You could feel his chest in your back, and the warmth of his breath on your neck as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. “Your dragon is very beautiful.”

You smiled at the compliment, not being able to help yourself since Zaelix was your entire pride and joy. Wanting to reply, you turned your head but accidentally brushed your nose against his, which made you reconsider, quickly turning your attention back to the dragon’s head.

“Is this alright?” Asked Aemond as he placed his hands on your waist, and you hated how good his hands felt on your body. You hummed a response, not trusting your voice not to crack, before you gave Zaelix the order to fly.

The wind forced your hair out of your face as your dragon rose higher and higher, until you could see the entirety of the castle below. Your grip around the saddle was strong, like you had been taught, and you let out a cheer just as Zaelix roared, which made Aemond chuckle behind you.

“Have you ever let go of the saddle before?” He asked, his chin brushing your shoulder as he spoke. You had to turn your head again, this time to hear him better since the wind was almost deafening.

“You mean… have I ever free ridden?”

Aemond nodded, but when you replied that you hadn’t, his hands held your waist tighter than before. “If you want to try, I will hold onto you.”

You felt your heart hammering in your chest, a small part of you telling you that this was a trap and he’d let you fall. Your assassination would not harm your mother’s political standing, since your siblings could easily replace you, but it would weaken her.

Something about Aemond’s touch, however, made you feel like this was an irrational thought, and you hated how easy it was to trust him, despite what he had done. Against your better judgment, you closed your eyes and slowly extended your arms. Aemond pulled you closer towards him, the sudden contact making you gasp, but still, you refrained from opening your eyes.

A smile spread across your lips, as you tasted freedom for the first time since waking up in that dungeon days ago. And even though your eyes were closed, you could feel Aemond looking at you, while he squeezed his legs slightly to make sure that you were sitting safely in the saddle.

Your body reacted to his touch, and you even found yourself leaning against him. Despite the fact that you still did not fully trust this man, you did not want to spend your life married to someone whose touch you didn’t crave, and his attractiveness was evident.

Slowly, you opened your eyes again and turned to look at Aemond, as Zaelix glided through the air. You met his eye, parting your lips slightly, and he did the same. “Thank you,” you breathed. “For today, I mean.”

His gaze lingered on your lips as you spoke, and you found yourself wanting to take off his eye patch, to see what he hid beneath it, but you resisted the urge.

“It was my pleasure, (y/n),” he replied, and you only broke eye contact once Zaelix had landed on the ground again.

#aemond targaryen #one bed trope but make it dragon #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond one eye #game of thrones #got #hotd #daemon targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower

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sharklovingcriminals · 9 days

Text

Given that wednesday is told from Wednesday's perspective i think there's a really interesting parallel between affection and being trapped, except when it's about enid.

Even in the opening car scene, which uses lots of claustrophobic angles to show how Wednesday feels about her parents loving each other, there's this idea that wednesday feels trapped by loving and caring.

when her family hug her they physically have to (with no reciprocation) wrap their arms completely around her, and so does xavier when he tried to save her life.

when she tries to help/be kind to rowan he mentally pins her to a tree, when the nightshades try to reach out to her they tie her up with rope and even in the tyler kiss she's leaning away and being stopped by his arm.

talking to her therapist is seen as a prison she has to escape from and the only time she trusts ugene (to keep watch at pilgrim world) she ends up stuck in a shed with the only door blocked by an angry pilgrim.

tyler needs restraining by shackles in a cave when he is "learning to love" his master through stockholm syndrome and xavier, gomez, morticia and wednesday herself all end up in prison because they cared and showed kindness.

All of this shows that trusting caring and loving are seen as prisons by wednesday but then...

when enid leaves the dorm and leaves Wednesday alone she is seen hugging her knees, gripping them tightly, restraining herself which i think shows that she sees enid and being close to enid as freeing, a sentiment enid repeats back when she returns to the dorm, listing reasons that wednesday didn't like her and saying she wouldn't apologise for them (freeing herself from caring about other peoples perception of her).

idk maybe I'm reaching but they are so in love so so very in love

#wenclair #netflix wednesday #wednesday #wednesday x enid #enid sinclair #wednesday is soft for enid #they're so tragic and emotionally codependent it's like they were written for me

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zukkaoru · 2 months

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More post-mersault Dazai hcs w/ the ADA and others? 🤞😭

hmm okay well obviously cane user dazai is very near and dear to me. but also..

because of how long kunikida was without his hands, after yosano heals him, he ends up with hand tremors. this, of course, is very hard to deal with considering his ability and his workaholic tendencies. he has to relearn how to do a lot of basic tasks while accounting for his tremors

shockingly (not really), dazai is the one who best knows how to aid kunikida in his recovery process. which is by just.. acting as if it's normal. the others tend to fall into the trap of over-correcting and being too concerned, while dazai doesn't treat him any differently than pre-doa arc

but really, dazai is just sort of treating kunikida how he wants everyone to treat him

overall, dazai gets less of the "too concerned" treatment mostly because he's significantly better at hiding/playing down his disability than kunikida is. which comes partly from just who dazai is and how he acts in general. but also because kunikida clearly uses his hands for everything; whereas dazai spends a lot of time lazing around and not standing up at work anyways, so he isn't putting much strain on his leg unless he's actively working a case

eventually, the ada do realize they can be a bit overbearing towards kunikida at times and back off, because while he might have trouble using his hands now, he is still fully capable of doing most things on his own

back to dazai. despite his issues with his leg, he still very much prefers to take the stairs whenever possible

(he'd die before admitting it, but for a while, he only really feels safe in an elevator if chuuya is nearby) (though, it does help if someone else is in the elevator with him)

he blames it on feeling claustrophobic in confined spaces after spending so much time trapped in a prison cell. ranpo and sigma know that's a lie, but they don't call him out on it

after being coaxed into it by yosano, kunikida, and chuuya, dazai starts going to physical therapy for his leg. yosano does very thorough research on physical therapists in yokohama and comes up with a list of possibilities for him. kunikida goes with him to his first appointment as moral support, which dazai obviously would never admit he wanted but he does very much appreciate it

chuuya, kunikida, and yosano take turns driving him to pt. it started out as a sort of accountability thing, to make sure he was actually going to the appointments, but dazai does actually like having someone there waiting for him to be done. even if he would absolutely never say it aloud.

once, when everyone else is busy, ranpo ends up going with him. they grumpily call it babysitting duty but when junichirou offers to go instead, they say "no no. it's fine. i'm already up out of my seat." dazai assumes they just want to skip out on work, but ranpo really just wanted to assure dazai made it to the appointment and was worried he would try to slip away from the others if they went with

eventually, once it's clear dazai is content to go to pt without strict accountability, the other ada members also start taking turns going with him to keep him company. dazai always says they don't have to and he's fine to go alone, but he doesn't argue hard enough to actually sway them out of it bc he does appreciate having someone go with him

dazai also starts spending more time at chuuya's place again, which he hasn't really done since their mafia days. but something shifted after meursault and chuuya lets him back in with minimal complaint. it's almost offputting, but dazai doesn't think too much about it at first

he just assumes that he'll spend a couple weeks breaking into chuuya's place, annoying them, and then he'll eventually get kicked out and that'll be that

it takes him way too long to realize that chuuya actually feels guilty about the leg injury. because chuuya will not say that and dazai won't straight up ask why chuuya is being nicer than normal because they're still so bad at communication. but they get there eventually and dazai is just. actually genuinely surprised that chuuya would feel guilty, especially when it's really not their fault - they're the reason it wasn't worse. and dazai deserved worse, especially from chuuya of all people

but chuuya, who also has to deal with chronic pain from their ability, sees dazai with his cane and going to pt knowing that it's not ever going to be enough to permanently fix it, and it's just a constant reminder that because they didn't slow the elevator just a little bit more, or they didn't make the splint just a little bit sturdier, or they didn't insist dazai lean on them for support while walking out of meursault, or any other number of tiny things chuuya could have done to help at the time, dazai is also going to be suffering chronic pain for the rest of his life. dazai, who notoriously hates pain, who doesn't want to be alive because he doesn't see the point of it, now also has to deal with persistent pain that will never go away

after they (gasp) actually talk about this a bit, things start to go back to normal, with the two of them bickering and arguing like always. chuuya still never kicks dazai out when he shows up, though

not to be too self-serving but. at some point, dazai orchestrates a situation in which chuuya and kunikida are forced to interact outside the contexts of their jobs. because maybe he kind of likes both of them and he also thinks that if they can both put aside the mafia/ada thing, they would also like each other (and they do <3)

dazai, chuuya, and kunikida all have problems with pushing themselves past their limits. dazai bc he isn't used to caring about/taking care of his body and chuuya & kunikida bc they're both workaholics. but the three of them help remind each other to take breaks when needed (even if they all sound hypocritical doing so)

especially once they move in together, they all help each other out on bad days with pain flare ups/etc.

ranpo is also very good at telling when dazai and kunikida are pushing themselves too hard and they are not afraid to snitch on them to yosano and/or chuuya. depending on which they deem would be more effective at the time

dazai and lucy have a very frenemies-like dynamic which is actually beneficial for them both bc they need someone they can snark at who is absolutely not afraid to dish it right back out at them. it starts with dazai complaining to lucy that she isn't as nice as the other cafe waitresses and lucy's like "not my fault i'm the only one who isn't won over by empty flirting. you're not even that pretty idk" and instead of actually getting offended dazai's just like YES. someone i can ARGUE WITH!

kunikida is annoyed by their dynamic until he realizes that they're both having fun and it's like some weird form of enrichment for them

dazai has trouble getting along with aya at first, because he really has no idea how to interact with young children. kyouka and kenji are old enough and mature enough that he can manage with them. but the children aya's age he's interacted with are.. elise and q. who he didn't have the most. um. nice and normal interactions with.

he's also wary of interacting with aya bc he knows kunikida cares about her and kunikida also wants a partner who is good with kids and if dazai reveals he cannot interact with kids to save his life, he'll ruin any chance he ever had with kunikida

eventually, he's forced into a situation where he has to actually have a one-on-one conversation with aya, and she's very snarky and mean to him at first and he's like "okay cool. good to know i was right about my negative skill level interacting with kids 👍"

so he makes some comment to aya about not being good with kids (sarcastic and rude, but it does hold truth to it) and aya just. stops. and is like hold on i thought you just didn't like me specifically.

anyway once they get past that misunderstanding, dazai finds he doesn't actually mind aya that much. though he's still not a fan of kids in general

for your consideration: mirror pronouns dazai

i do think it would also be a little funny if that ^ gender crisis is happening at the same time as chuuya having their own gender crisis. that #relatable moment when you and your supposed rival who you're sort-of-but-not-really living with and who you're sort-of-but-not-really dating both start questioning your gender at the same time, completely separate of the other and not even realizing that the other is having a similar crisis

okay anyway this is so long so i will end it here

basically i just think. dazai using a mobility aid would be a really fascinating way to visually show that he's learned he needs to depend on others for support (which is one of the big themes in bsd - the good guys win because they work together; fyodor failed because he refuses to trust anyone he can't completely manipulate)

+ dazai, who hates pain and has been suicidal since at least age fourteen, deciding that even with his disability and chronic pain, it's still worth it to keep pushing forward and surviving

you can also see some more of my post-doa ada thoughts in my post-doa fic series all lights turned off can be turned on and post-doa sigma in the 5+1 sigma fic i wrote for fem sigms week

#dazai osamu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #sorry this took a minute i was combing through my mind trying to collect my Thoughts in one place #though i did come up with some of these on the fly sdfghjk #skk #kunichuuzai #armed detective agency #headcanons #asks #anon asks #also did you know there's a character-per-block limit? bc i did not until i tried to go past it on this post #ummm anyway ty for the ask hopefully you enjoy my word vomit hc dump fdghjkjkl

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pianokantzart · 2 months

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The One To Blame (Part 2)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 A followup to my The One To Blame one shot. I took a poll asking if I should keep things lighthearted, but "hurt that plumber harder" won, so....

Content Warning: Blood, torture, vomiting, graphic descriptions of violence.

Needless to say things get a little rough, so I totally get anyone that wants to dip out or hold off until part three (i.e, the comfort part of this hurt/comfort fic.)

____________________

Luigi knew that he had put a fire flower in his pocket some time ago. Chances were it got smashed at some point between then and now, so he was unsure if it would still work. Even if it did, there was little good it could do against a monster who breathed flames that easily outmatched the heat of any powerup. But it was all he had. A useless powerup was better than no powerup at all, if only he could move his arms and reach for it.

Bowser's grip remained firm as he tromped through the halls of his castle, the troops that Luigi had so skillfully evaded just earlier clearing the way. Some who saw the man dangling helplessly in Bowser’s fist took on a look of sadistic smugness. Others didn’t care at all, wanting nothing more than stay out of the way of their king as he rushed past them, up a flight of steps, and into uppermost room of a fortified tower, where he shut the door behind him.

The dark cell was empty save for some old broken chains attached to the wall, suggesting that the cramped quarters had once served as a prison of sorts before being abandoned altogether. Bowser lit overhanging lamps with a puff of flames, filling the claustrophobic space with a dull orange light. “Beg.” The demand was spoken between clenched teeth uncomfortably close to Luigi’s face, acrid breath burning against his cheek like hot steam. “Come on, I know you can do it. I’ve heard it before.” Bowser shifted Luigi in his fist, curling the tips of his claws into his chest, stomach, and thigh. “Beg.” The sensation of talons slowly digging caused Luigi’s breath to hitch. “Don’t! don’t– it hurts! Stop! Please!!”

The mounting pressure didn’t cease. He felt his clothing tear and skin gave way soon after. He screamed, straining to remember the conversation he had overheard earlier, sputtering to find something that would soothe Bowser’s wounded ego. “You’re right! You’re right! You’re right! I should've never touched that warp pipe! I shouldn’t have come to this world! It was a mistake!” The claws stopped digging. The hold loosened slightly, his claws freeing themselves from the shallow puncture wounds they had created. Luigi felt what he knew to be blood soaking into his torn clothes, splotches of red spreading across his collared shirt and denim overalls. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that when we first met.” He added with a sob, “I-... I’m sorry… your… majesty?” The respectful title felt sour on his tongue, his stomach twisting with shame even as the suffocating grip continued to soften, and Bowser’s look of rage became a self-satisfied smile. “That’s better.” Luigi took the opportunity to once again try to reach for the fire flower in his pocket, but Bowser– feeling him struggling– once more tightened his grip while his free hand reached over to squish the man’s face between his thumb and forefinger.

“You know… Princess Peach was so eager to ruin our wedding trying to save you…”

“Not just me! She was trying to save the Kongs too!” Luigi tried to argue, though with his cheeks painfully pressed in the koopa’s grip it came out as “Nuff jush meh! shewesh tine ta sefta konds tuh!” Bowser paid little attention, and continued… “... I wonder if that would be the proper wedding gift? I’ll let her keep you, just so long as she follows through with her marriage vows.”

When Luigi’s face was finally released he racked his mind for the next thing to say. The right thing to say. Suddenly, his mouth moved before his brain could form a plan, and all at once he found himself speaking from the heart. “Why can’t you just leave her alone?!”

The volume was soft, but the tone was sharp. Bowser responded with equal impulsivity, rearing back and flinging his captive into the wall. “Why!? I’m King of The Koopas! And what are you!?” Luigi had just enough time to adjust his body so that his back took the brunt of the impact instead of his skull, saving him from being immediately knocked out. Rolling to the ground, he heard the tyrant continue...

“You… the stupid underling of an undersized nobody! You’re going to wish I never stooped so low as to ask for your name!” Luigi braced his body up on an arm and dug his hand into his pocket. The fire flower was still there, slightly smashed but radiating warmth. As soon as he grabbed it he felt its energy coursing through him, offsetting the pain of his injuries enough to let him climb to his feet.

Bowser, seeing the powerup activate, charged his captive like a bull, horns positioned to run him through. Luigi met the attack with a flash of bright green flame intended to do nothing more than disorient, and in that he was successful. Bowser was lost for a second of blindness, barreling into the wall as Luigi dove out of the way. Evading the flying debris he scampered toward the door they’d come through. It was heavy, but it had been blessedly left unlocked, and as soon as he wrenched it open he slipped through and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. _____

The sound of stone shattering reverberated through the castle. Peach heard the rumble. Her heart stilled, and her grip on the bars of her cage tightened. “Kamek!” she called, turning her desperation toward the magikoopa guarding her. “Please, you have to stop him!” “With all due respect Princess, until you become the queen of The Dark Lands I don’t take orders from anyone except His Highness.” “I just want Luigi safe! I’ll agree to anything if you’ll only–!” “Even if I believed you… which I don’t…” Kamek interrupted, placing hand on his cheek, recalling the punch that knocked him unconscious the last time Peach agreed to wed, “... once he gets this angry, there is nothing even I can do to stop him.”

Peach opened her mouth to respond, when a flash of red appeared in the corner of her eye. She and Kamek turned in unison to see Mario appear in the entrance of the throneroom, charging toward them at top speed with a look of unshakable determination on his face. He was not nearly quick enough. Kamek, with ample time to draw his wand, cast his spell, and before his would-be attacker was even halfway across the room he was encased in a field of blue magic. “Hee hee hee! Cocky, aren’t we?” Kamek cackled. The captured plumber replied with nothing but a frustrated grunt, gritting his teeth as he was lifted in the air. “No!” Peach shouted. She threw herself against the bars in frantic desperation, but they did nothing but clang noisily under her efforts. Kamek barely even spared her a glance, his attention fixed firmly on his prize. “That’s two plumbers I’ve caught in one night! Although… I believe Lord Bowser’s orders regarding you were to ‘kill on sight.’” With that, he intensified the spell with a twirl of his wand, certain that the sordid affair would be over in seconds. But then, Mario’s body– or what he thought to be Mario’s body– crumbled in a very unusual way. There was no blood or breakage, but instead the little man fell apart like a dry sand castle, disappearing into the air as a fine powder. Kamek stood for a moment in stunned silence. Wand still outstretched he stared at the empty air in utter befuddlement, noticing all too late when Mario appeared once more, emerging from his hiding place behind Bowser’s throne. Armed with a hammer, he leapt down the steps leading up to the throne with a single bound, and swung. The magikoopa was downed with a single blow that sent him flying across the room, slamming into the base of one of his king's many statues. There he lay slumped and still, his cracked glasses sitting crooked on his face.

Princess Peach beamed with joy and relief. “Mario!” "Princess!" Mario rushed to her side. Before she could ask anything else he hurriedly confirmed her suspicions as he pulled a ring of keys from his back pocket. “I had a spare double cherry. Toad is busy getting us an escape vehicle, so I provided my own backup. Now hold on, I’ll get you out of here...” “No! Mario, wait!” She reached through the bars, took the plumber by the wrist and slipped the key ring out of his hand. “It’s Luigi! Bowser, he- it’s all my fault! I–” She bit down on her lower lip, cutting herself off. No. Now was not the time for panicked confessions. Not a second could be wasted wallowing in guilt. In an instant she collected herself and tried again. “Bowser took your brother! I heard a crash coming from the westmost tower. I think that’s where they went. You have to go. Now.” "Luigi?" A troubled look flashed across Mario's face. He nodded, but conflict shone bright in his blue eyes as he slowly backed away. Worry for his brother demanded he hurry, but concern for Peach stilled him. What if the key she needed wasn’t on the ring? What if Kamek regained consciousness? What if someone else caught her trying to escape? Perhaps he should try hitting the door to her cage with the hammer... would that be faster? Would that draw too much attention? “Go on,” Peach urged, jangling the keys in her hands, “I won’t be too far behind, I promise!”

Again, Mario nodded, this time with greater determination. "Please, be careful!" With that, he turned and sped out of the throne room, leaving the princess to sort through the dozens of keys in search of one that could unlock her cell.

_____ Bowser pulled his head from the wall and shook the rubble from his horns as his fiery red eyes glanced about the room, quickly finding the ajar door and the speckled trail of blood leading out of it.

He let out a grunt of annoyance, but he felt little more than that. Luigi hadn’t gotten far, he could still smell the man’s open wounds. Even before Bowser exited the cell he could already sense that Luigi had gone up the stairs to the battlements rather than down them toward the main corridors, probably preferring to try and find an escape route along the castle rooftops rather than risk the crowded halls down below in his injured state.

A risky choice. A stupid choice. There was nowhere to hide up there. Outside, thundering clouds of ash blacked out the sky, robbing the land of any semblance of sunlight. The world was lit solely by the molten rock that flowed about the castle’s base and the golden embers that floated about the air– burnt remnants of what little managed to grow in this accursed land.

Luigi, trying to ignore the oppressive heat, ran along the tops of the castle wall, one hand over his wounded stomach, the other putting pressure on his injured thigh. Thankfully no organ or artery had been punctured as far as he could tell, but at this rate moving too recklessly would sap him of strength before he found a place to hunker down and rest– some secluded archway or tucked away window sill, where he could settle his heartbeat, and tend his wounds. He didn't make it far before heard Bowser’s thundering footsteps fast approaching, his predatory silence far more frightening than any taunt or threat. But while the koopa was fast– far faster than any human– what he had in speed Luigi matched in agility, even in his injured state. Turning toward his pursuer, Luigi shielded himself behind another burst of green flame. He dove beneath Bowser’s legs and weaved about his flicking tail, taking advantage of every tiny gap and blindspot like a skittering insect, aiming flashes of fire at the koopa's eyes until finally Bowser– at the end of his already limited patience– tucked himself completely into his shell, and spun. “Whirling Fortress” was the name of the maneuver. He rarely ever used it, in most cases it was overkill, and if Luigi hadn’t had a powerup to absorb the blow no doubt the spikes would’ve done far more harm than sending him flying into the parapet. But it did the trick, disempowering and disorienting the green plumber enough for Bowser to once more take hold of him, and this time he intended to take full advantage of his position.

After pinning Luigi to the ground with one hand, Bowser grabbed the calf of his uninjured leg with the other, and twisted it all the way around like a ragdoll. A pained screech filled the scorching air as the joints of Luigi's knee, hip, and ankle snapped. The scream rose in volume and pitch as bone shattered soon after, until at last his leg was left twisted in a ghoulish, unnatural position. Bowser, satisfied, released his hold to let the mangled limb fall limp to the stone floor. “There. No more running away. No more hiding.” Luigi quivered from the shock, wide eyed and whimpering incoherently, but as pathetic as he looked, Bowser was surprised he had maintained consciousness. His vague sense of being impressed quickly turned into disgust, however, when then whimpering became retching, and Luigi poured the contents of his stomach onto the ground. “Look at you…” Bowser grumbled. He took hold of the back of Luigi’s head and smeared it against the mess he had made like he was disciplining an animal. “You can’t even take a little pain without losing all of your dignity.” “P-please.” Luigi sputtered, unaware that this time begging would merely trigger a fresh flash of rage. The grip on the back of his skull tightened, claws digging into his scalp as his face was brought back down against the bile-smeared stone with staggering force.

His nose was first to give way, his breathing immediately clogged with blood and a new, searing pain that reached behind his eyes. When he felt his head yanked back for a second blow he struggled to turn his face to save the nose from further damage. This resulted in his jaw and cheek taking the brunt of the impact. He barely succeeded in spitting out broken teeth before the third impact stole his will to struggle, and the fourth plunged him into darkness. The pain continued in unconsciousness, shockwaves of agony rippling out into every part of his body. Seconds felt like hours of drowning in the taste of rust and vomit before he at length awoke, dangling in the air by his wrist, held tight in that familiar, scaly grip. Bowser was talking to him… saying something… Luigi tried to open his eyes. Only one would open halfway, giving him a blurred glimpse of a scowling, draconic face. “Did you hear me? I asked you what exactly your plan was,” Bowser huffed, impatiently repeating his question. “Did you think you could jump out at the last moment and save Peaches the way you saved your brother? That you could bide your time until you found the right opportunity to make a fool out of me again?” The violent grip on Luigi’s wrist made it clear that he wanted an answer. After a few gurgling breaths, Luigi managed to speak with an agonizing slowness, feeling like he was chewing sewing needles with every movement of his jaw. “I just… don’t wa..nt… you to… hurt… anyone,” he stuttered, barely audible. Bowser rolled his eyes. “Adorable. Unfortunately…” Luigi felt his wrist break. He let out a meek cry, immediately strangled by the pain of his shattered mouth. “...You are going to pay me back for everything you’ve done.” Bowser leaned in closer to ensure he was heard, even as his prisoner teetered on the very edge of consciousness. “Once your brother is dead, once Peaches is finally mine, only then will I end your life the way it should’ve ended when we first met!” Luigi was too lost in the fog of agony and bloodloss to properly comprehend what was being said, nor did he notice the distant thud of wooden doors being kicked open, but Bowser's attention was immediately drawn to the new arrival on the rooftops. He half-expected to see a troop of palace guards, rushing to assist in a pointless, but noble effort. To his pleasant surprise, Mario alone emerged from the doorway to the battlements, as if summoned by the whispered threat. He rushed toward them, hammer upraised. When he was close enough to get a good look at his brother, that confidence immediately evaporated and he froze, a look of utter horror and disbelief etched into every detail of his face. Bowser wished he had a camera, but he knew it would only be a second before the plumber’s horror turned to rage. To prevent any further resistance, he gripped Luigi by the skull and made his position clear: “One more step and I’ll tear his head off!”

This successfully kept Mario paralyzed. His feet remained fixed to the floor, chest heaving, teeth clenched, white-knuckle grip tightening around the handle of his hammer.

_____

Peach eventually found the key to her cage. It was bright silver and etched with the words “the key to my heart” in cursive letters, small enough to miss the first time she searched. Nauseated by the adornment, she hurriedly unlocked the door to her prison. Just as she emerged into freedom, the princess was startled by a cannonball crashing through the wall nearby. It wasn’t close enough to hurt her or the unconscious magikoopa, but it rattled her senses, and with her hands balled into fists she rushed to see who or what had created the sizable hole in the side of Bowser’s throne room.

She– to her utter delight– was greeted by Toad, calling to her from the deck of a stolen airship. It wasn’t one of those dinky clown cars or a Shy Guy balloon, but a true airship– built like a miniature galleon and equipped with loaded cannons.

Toad alone was at the helm, struggling to comprehend the controls, but learning quickly as he kept the ship steady.

Princess Peach immediately boarded the vessel on his invitation. She took a place in the crow's nest, and as they stuttered off toward the western tower she gave direction and kept lookout. They dipped low, flying close to the base of the castle to avoid as much attention as possible. Whenever a few unfortunate guards noticed the stolen ship and took aim to take them down, Peach called out their location, and Toad returned fire to great effect. These defensive measures, plus the earlier damage to the throne room, caused a small crowd of guards in clown cars to gather at their tail, but their galleon proved swift and sturdy, easily outpacing their pursuers.

_____

Mario tried to think of a plan, but he was utterly transfixed by his brother’s body. It didn’t look real, smeared and crushed and bent all wrong. He could hear and see shallow, labored breath, joined by a groan of agony when Bowser began walking forward while dragging his broken victim behind him. Mario didn't know what to do. "Save him!" his mind screamed, barking substanceless commands in a flood of terror, "Get him out! Do something! Fight back!"

“The hammer.” Bowser growled, “drop it.” Mario obeyed. No sooner had the weapon left his grip he was plucked up in Bowser's free hand, arms pinned to his sides in a vice-like grip. Bowser, now with a plumber in each hand, slammed Mario into the parapet to ensure there was no powerup at play. Mario instinctively responded with a pained grunt, but otherwise seemed to pay no notice of his own position, keeping his attention fully on his brother. “Luigi!” He yelled, tears cracking his voice and blurring his vision. Luigi didn’t respond, but laid slack with his head still wrapped in Bowser's hand, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive. “You know, I originally planned for you to watch him die,” Bowser admitted with a tired sigh. “But I changed my mind. I think I’m done with you.”

No sooner had he said this, he reared back and threw Mario over the wall. A steep vertical drop awaited him, nine hundred feet down toward a wide river of molten rock.

______ Shading her eyes with her hand, Princess Peach caught a glimpse of Bowser atop the western side of the castle. She saw signs of a brief scuffle, then… a familiar red shape plunging over the side. Her heart stopped for a moment when she realized what she was seeing, and she urged Toad to increase the ship's speed despite the fact that they were already pushing the vehicle well beyond its limits. Toad, noting the panic in the royal's voice, did as he was told, and as the ship came into position with the stuttering groan of the overworked engine Peach leapt from the crow’s nest to catch her falling friend. Mario was snatched from the air with perfect precision. The floating properties of Peach’s dress cushioned the free fall just enough that when the two hit the deck of the ship, they were unharmed.

When Mario realized he was alive– saw that he was in good company– he reacted at first with a relieved sigh. The moment of joy was short lived, and his eyes were drawn back to the battlements overhead. “He-… he’s hurt!” The tone of his voice made Peach nauseous. Her fears all but confirmed, she held Mario a little tighter and turned to Toad. “Raise the ship’s altitude! Hone in on Bowser’s position! Hurry!”

“Yes, Captain Princess!” was the cheerful reply, Toad clearly not yet aware of the severity of the situation. With a salute he tugged on levers and twisted the great wooden wheel, drawing the bow of the ship upward at a sharp angle, sending them veering toward the rooftops where the shadow of Bowser loomed against the thundering black sky.

#my writing #Super Mario Brothers #Super Mario Bros #Luigi #Mario #Princess Peach #Toad #cw blood #cw torture #cw vomit #cw violence #angst #Mario Movie

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bunwritesss · 8 months

Text

Ode to Sleep

Summary: You cannot sleep. Maybe because the bed in the cells are uncomfortable as hell. Maybe because you're scared. Or maybe because you got used to sleep with Daryl at the Farm, and you're not used to sleeping alone anymore. Whatever the reason is, a certain hunter cannot sleep either, and will make sure to make the night at least a little more fun for you.

Genre: Fluff 💕

A/N: Hiiii everyone!! 💕Here's another oneshot inspired by a Twenty One Pilots song, I'm really going to do both of my favorite albums by them I think! Tell me if you have any ideas for the songs from Vessel and Heavydirtysoul as Daryl x Reader prompts, I'd love to hear them <3

You were currently sitting on the awfully hard bed of your awfully small cell, knees against your chest and wobbly arms carefully wrapped around you, sheltering you from the rest of the prison. You had tried to sleep for hours, counting sheeps and trying to work on your breathing, but being alone in such a small room made you slightly claustrophobic. So you gave up, waiting for the sun to rise again. It was too dark outside to read.

'Can't sleep?'

A voice outside of your room startled you, Daryl's silhouette standing at the entrance of your cell. He did not enter it, careful not to scare you. You nodded, and then realized he probably couldn't see you, so you responded in a loud whisper.

'Yup. You too?' 'Wanna come outside with me?' He ignored your question.

You immediatly rose to your feet, happy to have a distraction. Daryl was one of your favorite members of the group. Although he did not talk much, nor was always agreeable, he always knew how to make sure everyone was healthy, and to show his affection to the people he loved. You noticed he stopped snapping at you as soon as he realized you seemed more affected by it than the others, and he often brought you a little trinket from his runs. The blue scrunchie you wore on your wrist, snapping it to distract yourself from the oppressing room, was one of those gifts. It was a fact, Daryl Dixon was a softie.

He waited for you to join him at the entrance, slowly walking to the entrance of the prison. The chill air of the court made you regret the sheets you used as a blanket, slightly shivering. You followed Daryl to a patch of grass near the building where your group set camp, and sat next to him. You watched as he lit himself a cigaret, not bothering offering you one anymore.

You stayed in silence for a few minutes, Daryl enjoying his cigaret and you enjoying Daryl's presence. Being outside made all of the tension in your body disappear, and you let out a sigh of contentment when you smelled nicotine in the air. The air smelled familiar now.

'I hate feeling caged.' You said, both for yourself and for Daryl. 'Me too.' He simply replied, toying with the cigaret.

Its burning orange end danced in the dark, hypnotizing you and your tired brain. As you were still shivering, you took your arms out of the oversized T-shirt you were wearing, wrapping them around yourself. The move made Daryl chuckle.

'We can go back if yer cold?' He offered kindly. 'Nah, being outside is what I needed, no worries. I'm feeling warmer already.'

And you weren't lying. As you rubbed your arms, you felt warmth coming back to your body. You felt every blade of grass, every blow on the wind on your body, and smiled. You needed this.

'How did you know I wasn't asleep?' 'Ya sleeptalk. And ya can't sleep sittin' down.' 'I sleeptalk?'

You felt your cheeks becoming red. He nodded, taking another drag of his cigaret.

'What do I talk about?'

He shrugged.

'Said ya talked, not that ya did make any sense.'

You snorted, relieved. God knows what you could have told in your sleep... You couldn't help but shiver again, and this time he hesitantly rubbed your back.

'Can I move closer to you? I swear you're like a furnace or something!'

He silently thanked the obscurity for preventing you from seeing the blush on his cheeks, and you felt him nod. So you cuddled at his side, arms still inside your shirt, as he brought an arm against your shoulders. Your trembling form slowly calmed down.

'Better?' 'Yes. Thank you so much.'

You smiled at him, although he couldn't see him, taking a breath in. He smelt like a forest. Forest and nicotine, and you instantly forgot the awful air of the prison. You closed your eyes, focusing on his heartbeat.

'Daryl? Why can't you sleep?' You asked him kindly, comfortable against him.

He shrugged.

'Dunno.' 'Is it because you feel trapped too?' 'Yeah, must be that.' He grumbled, and you nodded thoughtfully. 'It sucks.' 'Yeah.'

Feeling bold, as you knew Daryl would not have woken up anyone besides Carol or you, and eventually Rick, to share a night outside, you decided to take one of his hands between yours, and he surprisingly let you without any complaint. You toyed with his fingers, rubbed circles on his scarred knuckles as you both enjoyed the calm of the night. He seemed to enjoy what you were doing, his curious eyes squinting in the direction of your hands. His cigaret was now done, and he stuffed it in his pocket with his free hand, before putting his arm back around your shoulder.

'Daryl?'

You were now toying with your scrunchie, trapping both of your hands inside it, softly snapping it against your wrists. He did not respond but you knew he was listening. And you felt particularly brave, during this beautiful night.

'Would you be okay if we shared a bed, in the prison?'

You did not give him time to answer, immediatly rambling as to make his rejection easier to accept for you.

'I mean, you don't have to because now we have as many beds as we want, but we got used to sleeping together at the Quarry, and then at the farm, and I just... I don't know, I feel comfortable with you, but if you would rather sleep alone I-' 'Y/N.' He interrupted you softly, and you gave him your whole attention, a bit worried. 'I would not have woken ya up if I didn't want to spend time with ya.'

Your panicked state when you were afraid you were making people uncomfortable always made him chuckle. You always took everyone's feelings into account, and that was probably one of the reasons why it had been so easy for you to befriend him. He knew you did not fake your kindness.

'You mean you'd like to share a bed with me?'

He nodded, weirdly comfortable with the idea. And you beamed, your eyes twinkling.

'Then I would love for us to go back to bed, because I am freezing out there!'

You got up first, giving him your hand to help him get up. He took it, and you did not let go of it as you walked back to the prison, a small smile on both of your flushed faces. You were both convinced you would finally spend a restful night, now. And it felt amazing.

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead #twd #the walking dead imagine

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tearsofellen · 2 months

Text

Embers of Desire (Daryl Dixon/FemReader)

Summary: You find your way to the prison after escaping from Woodbury. While stealing food Daryl finds out and attempts to convince you to join the prison.

Words: 5,581

Warnings: SMUT! (and mentions of the governor x reader)

A/N: Don't know if this will be a series or not :3

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It had been six days without water and the sound of a stream was like the gates of heaven opening. As your eyes landed on small flow of water in the middle of the forest your knees gave out, throwing your body on the rough soil. Your hands cupped the water and threw it into your mouth. You let out a gasp of relief of the cool liquid sent chills down your spine.

It had been six days since you left Woodbury. Ever since you arrived there six months ago, you knew something was off. The Governor took a strong liking to you as soon as you arrived. Initially he wanted to know how a young lady managed to survive out in the open with no shelter or family. After proving yourself as a skilled worker and smart with weapons he decided to keep himself close to you. When he would leave with his group, his answers were always very vague and blunt. You found it hard to adjust back to normal living in Woodbury. None of the people wanted to talk about the walkers beyond the gates, acting like they didn’t even exist. You couldn’t let it go; you would attempt to get a glance between the openings of the gates to see if any walkers were about. I guess you could say you got claustrophobic near the end. The final straw was when the governor put his hands on you. The feel of his filthy hand on your waist and the other one on your cheek inflicted nausea on you. Your fist hit his nose before he had the chance to do anything. You didn’t even have time to watch the blood drip down his face before you grabbed your bag and left. While leaving immediately was the best option for you, preparation would’ve have helped. All you had was the bag you came with all those months ago containing a revolver and a collection of knives. Since then, you remained in the woods, ensuring you stayed quiet and out of sight of anyone and anything.

While the water was a godsend, the rehydration had reactivated your stomach. The noise of your stomach turning was almost painful. Apart from a single squirrel you caught on the first day, food was scarce. As you were kneeling next to the stream using the excess water to wash your face, your eyes noticed the sky now dimming. Soon it will be time to find shelter and rest up. As you had no camping gear, you had resulted to climbing up large trees and finding a nook to sleep in. As you dragged yourself away from the stream, you continued to look for a tree to sleep in. When you thought you was out of luck a large tree came into your view. It was perfect and you could clearly see branches that you could easily climb. Bracing yourself you pulled yourself up on to the tree. you threw yourself on a strong enough bough to support your weight. Sighing with exhaustion, you felt your eyes go heavy. An advantage of sleeping in the trees, you could have a clear enough view of the landscape. Sometimes on dark night like these stars would appear and just for a second, you wouldn’t have to think about the world you were living in. Tonight was one of these nights. As you started to drift off, your eyes caught something in the distance. My immediate instinct was to grip your bag, ready to pull your gun out. As your eyes focused in the dark, you could make out puffs of smoke. Someone is alive out there. While you didn’t want to run into anyone, your mind drifted to the idea of food. Battling within yourself, you thought about whether or not to check out the fire or stay out of range of any strangers. My stomach seemed to convince your mind to scope out the area without being caught and find out if they had any food. you would be slow and quiet. Before you had the chance to think about your decision your feet were moving towards the smoke.

As your destination came into view your eyebrows furrowed at the sight. A prison? you had to laugh to yourself. My eyes scanned to the watchtowers darted around the prison walls. No sign of life. you walked along the barbed wired along the perimeter, looking for an opening. Whoever is here knew the importance of keeping everything out here out. A couple of walkers were scattered around the perimeter. Those who entered your path were quietly silenced with a sharp stab into their forehead. Finally, your eyes landed on a small hole between the soil and gate. After using your hands to create a bigger opening for your body, you sild yourself in. Gripping your knife, you made your way towards the smoke. My eyes scanned around the prison; it seemed too silent here. It soon became evident to you there was a group living here. There was cars, firewood and livestock scattered around the area. Whoever was here has been here for along. The smoke was finally revealed to be a small firepit. It was slowly dying from lack of firewood. Whoever started it had abandoned it. While it wasn’t significant what stood next to it made your eyes dilate. Three standing sticks with cooked fish attached to them. you swear you felt yourself drool at the sight. Grasping your knife your legs moved towards them. Once within arms reached, you slid your bag off your back. Taking the first fish from the stick, you quietly placed it into your bag. As you reached the last fish, your stomach groaned at the feel of warm food in your hands. you couldn’t help yourself, doing one last glance around yourself your teeth sunk into the fish. you swear you almost moaned at the sensation of swallowing something nutritious.

“Hungry missy?”

In a flash you dropped your food on the ground and your revolver was pointed at the voice behind you. In the darkness it took your eyes a second to adjust to the figure in the shadows. It took a step forward in the light. His bow was raised pointing at you. you immediately chambered your gun at the sight of his weapon.

“Please don’t let me disturb you.”

Did he think this was some joke? He took another step forward, his bow still raised covering his face from view.

“Don’t come any closer. Or you won’t like what happens next.” you replied in the most serious voice you could muster.

At the sound of your voice, his bow dropped allowing him to have a clear vision of you. you swallowed at the sight of the long-haired man. His eyes travelled you up and down, his face softening slightly. It filled you with rage.

“Don’t think just because I’m a girl I won’t fire a shot into your forehead.” You spat pushing the gun towards him. You knew if it came to it, your gun would be faster than his crossbow.

He tiled his head at your words. After a small pause he placed the crossbow down on the ground.

“Do you need food?”

“I don’t need anything from you. You’re going to turn around and I am going to leave. That way you won’t get hurt.” you spat back at his question. His face had the expression of you know I just saw you steal fish from me. you ignored his expression.

“There is a lot of walkers out tonight due to the full moon, I wouldn’t recommend it.” The man stated.

you would rather take your chances with walkers than those alive you thought to yourself. As the man saw you weren’t going to cooperate with him, he sighed and turned away from you. My hand gripping the gun lowered. you stepped away from him, making your way back to the opening you created. As you were about to put your gun away, headlights appeared in the distance. As the car came into view your blood ran cold. It was the governor’s Geep.

Swinging yourself back to the man, you positioned yourself in front of him.

“Hide me please.” you spoke almost whispering to him. you were prepared for an argument or a yelling match, but the man only rested his hand on your elbow and pulled you towards an old shack. you stepped in as he closed the door. The shack had windows facing the governor’s car.

Inside the shack, the air was thick with dust and the smell of decay. The man motioned for you to stay quiet as he peeked through a crack in the wooden walls to observe the approaching vehicle. My heart pounded in your chest as the governor's Geep rolled to a stop just outside.

Through the cracks, you could see the silhouette of the governor stepping out of the vehicle, his entourage of armed men following closely behind. My grip tightened on your revolver as you prepared for the worst.

Daryl stood in front of them, remaining calm, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. His presence was strangely comforting amidst the chaos outside.

As the governor's voice echoed through the night, your stomach churned with dread. you couldn't make out the words, but you knew he was searching for you. His offer of food and weapons in exchange for you still rang in your ears, a chilling reminder of the dangers lurking in this post-apocalyptic world.

The light of the car revealed the menacing figure of the governor himself. His eyes narrowed as they locked onto Daryl, a cruel smile spreading across his lips.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" he sneered, his gaze flickering to the man beside you. "Daryl Dixon.”

Daryl stood his ground, his expression unreadable as he faced the governor. “What business do you have here?”

From your position you could see the evil sneer on the Governor’s face. “I’m looking for a girl. Young one. Probably carrying her revolver. She’s one of mine.”

Daryl’s body was stiff, in a flash he replied. “Ain’t seen no girl around here. So, you should take you and your buddies out of here.”

The Governor laughed at his words, resting his hands on his hips. “I know that ain’t true. I know you and your group take any random stranger in. I also know for a fact she was running in this direction.”

“Why don’t you leave the girl alone. Huh? Is she that important?”

The governor chuckled darkly, taking a step closer. "Oh, but she has everything to do with me, Daryl. You see, she's a troublemaker that needs to be taught a lesson. And you always deal with troublemakers one way or another."

you braced yourself, your grip tightened on your gun, aiming directly at the governor. My finger was pressed on the trigger. But before you could react, Daryl stepped forward in front of the governor.

"She's not going anywhere with you," he growled, his voice low and threatening. "You want trouble? You'll have to go through me first."

The tension in the air was palpable as the standoff unfolded. The governor's men tensed, hands inching towards their weapons. The Governor held his hand up to stop his men from raising their weapons. The governor's voice cut through the tension of the night like a blade.

"Daryl, I'm offering you food, weapons, anything you need in exchange for that girl you're hiding in there," the governor's voice carried a tone of authority, yet underneath lurked a hint of desperation.

Daryl's jaw clenched as he stared down the governor's offer. He knew the implications of his decision, weighing the safety of you against the resources and security the governor could provide. But Daryl had made his choice long before the governor's arrival.

"I appreciate the offer, but I can't do that," Daryl's voice was firm, his gaze unwavering.

The governor's expression darkened, a flicker of anger passing through his eyes. "You're making a mistake, Daryl. That girl is nothing but trouble. She'll kill you."

Daryl remained resolute; his stance unwavering as he faced the governor. "She's under your protection now. And I won't hand her over to you."

The governor's jaw tightened; his frustration evident as he realized Daryl wouldn't be swayed. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, signalling to his men to follow.

As the sound of the Geep faded into the distance, Daryl let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He turned to you; his expression softened with relief.

"You okay?" Daryl's voice was gentle as he approached you, concern etched into his features.

you lowered your gun, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you nodded in response. "Thanks to you," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Daryl offered a small, reassuring smile before his expression turned serious. "Listen, I know this isn't easy, but you can't stay out here alone. It's too dangerous."

you glanced away, uncertainty clouding your thoughts. "But I'm a danger to your group. You saw what happened back there. I attract trouble like a magnet."

Daryl's gaze softened, his hand reaching out to gently grasp your shoulder. "You're not a danger. You're just... lost. We all are, in this world. But you don't have to face it alone."

His words stirred something within you, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos surrounding us. But the fear of bringing harm to those he cared about still lingered.

"What if I bring danger to your group? What if I can't protect yourself, let alone anyone else?" you whispered, your voice laced with doubt.

Daryl's grip tightened slightly, his eyes locking with mine in a reassuring gaze. "You're stronger than you think. And you don't have to do this alone. We can help each other, survive together."

His words resonated with you, touching a part of you that you thought had been lost forever. you knew the risks, but you also knew that you couldn't continue to wander this world alone, constantly on the run.

Taking a deep breath, you met Daryl's gaze with newfound determination. "Okay," you said softly, a sense of relief washing over you. "I'll stay. But only if you'll have me."

Daryl's smile widened, a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. "Welcome to the group," he said, his voice filled with genuine kindness.

As you both stood there, surrounded by the remnants of a world ravaged by chaos, you knew that you had found something precious amidst the ruins: a sense of belonging, and a companion to face the darkness with. And for that, you were grateful beyond words.

……………………….

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the desolate landscape, Daryl and you set out on a supply trip. Our mission was simple: gather as much food and supplies as you could scavenge from the abandoned stores and houses in the nearby town.

The air was thick with tension as they navigated the empty streets, our footsteps echoing against the silent buildings. Daryl led the way, his crossbow slung over his shoulder, while you followed closely behind, keeping a vigilant eye out for any signs of danger.

As you both rummaged through the deserted stores, filling our bags with canned goods and medical supplies, a comfortable silence settled between us. It was a rare moment of peace in our chaotic lives, you found yourself grateful for Daryl's steady presence by your side.

Daryl led the way, crossbow in hand, his senses sharp, and his eyes scanning the surroundings. you followed closely, your revolver at the ready, your gaze shifting between the deserted buildings and the man beside you.

"So, uh, where are you from?" Daryl's gravelly voice cut through the silence, breaking the monotony of our footsteps.

you glanced at him, surprised by the sudden inquiry. He’s actually trying to make conversation with you. "Originally, I'm from a small town up north. Before all this... happened," you replied, a hint of nostalgia in your voice.

Daryl nodded, his eyes never leaving the path ahead. "Small towns, huh? Less people to deal with."

"Yeah, until there were too many people trying to leave and not enough places to go." you sighed, memories of the initial chaos flooding back. "How about you? Where'd you grow up?"

Daryl's lips curved into a faint smile, almost lost in the shadows. "Georgia. Out in the sticks. Always preferred the woods to the city."

Our conversation flowed slowly, like a hesitant stream finding its course. We exchanged stories of our pre-apocalypse lives, memories that felt like they belonged to another world. With each word shared, the tension between us seemed to ease, replaced by a growing sense of camaraderie.

With each passing moment, they grew more attuned to each other's movements, their actions becoming synchronized as they worked in tandem to gather supplies. Daryl's rugged features softened slightly as he glanced over his shoulder, meeting your gaze with a faint smile.

Caught off guard by the intensity of his stare, you felt your heart flutter in your chest. you quickly looked away, pretending to inspect a shelf of canned goods as you tried to steady her racing pulse.

Unbeknownst to you, Daryl's gaze lingered on you, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and touch you. But he held himself back, fighting the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume him.

Instead, he let his hand brush against mine as you both reached for the same can of beans, a fleeting touch that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through both of us. My breath caught in your throat, your cheeks flushing with heat as you met Daryl's gaze once more.

Careful," he murmured, a low rasp in his voice that only intensified the sensation between us. "Don't want you getting hurt over a can of beans."

you managed a nervous chuckle, your fingers fumbling slightly as you continued to fill our backpacks. "Wouldn't be the first time I've faced danger for a meal."

Daryl's eyes flickered with amusement, a silent acknowledgment of the shared struggles that brought us together. "Guess we're all a bit desperate these days."

The banter continued; a delicate dance of words that hinted at something more profound. As you both moved through the aisles, Daryl pointed out items he deemed useful, his explanations often accompanied by a small smile that reached his eyes.

"I reckon these batteries might still have some juice left in 'em," he commented, his fingers grazing over a dusty shelf of electronics.

you nodded, trying to hide the growing warmth spreading through your chest. "Good find. We could use them for the radio, keep in touch with the others."

Daryl's gaze lingered on mine, a moment of silent understanding passing between us. "Yeah, keepin' in touch. Important."

The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the aisles. We found ourselves in the canned fruit section, and you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of choosing between peaches and pears in a world where survival was the priority.

Daryl joined in, the sound of his laughter resonating in the empty store. "Guess we're living the high life now, huh?"

A genuine smile graced his rugged features, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways that surpassed mere survival instincts. The unspoken connection lingered in the air; a magnetic force that pulled us closer with each shared moment.

As you headed back towards the prison, our conversation shifted to lighter topics - favourite movies, childhood memories, and the small joys that felt like distant dreams in this new world.

"You ever watch fireflies on a summer night?" Daryl's question caught you off guard, a wistful expression in his eyes.

"Yeah, back when things were... normal," you replied, a pang of nostalgia tugging at your heart.

Daryl's gaze softened, the weight of shared memories settling between us. "Maybe one day we'll find a place where things can be a bit more normal again."

The words hung in the air, carrying a quiet promise of hope. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in hues of orange and pink, you stole a glance at Daryl.

His silhouette against the fading light held a certain allure, the rugged contours of his face softened by the gentle glow of twilight. It was moments like these when the barriers between us seemed to fade away, leaving only the raw vulnerability that simmered beneath the surface.

Lost in thought, you couldn't help but voice the question that had been lingering on your mind for far too long. "Daryl, why are you always so quiet?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. Daryl's expression shifted, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features before he quickly masked it with his trademark stoicism.

"I ain't got much to say. Just trying to survive," he muttered, his voice gruff with defensiveness.

But you could see through the facade, the walls he'd built around himself brick by brick. There was a depth to Daryl that went beyond his silent exterior, a complexity that begged to be unravelled.

"Everyone has something to say," you insisted, your tone gentle yet persistent. "There's a story behind those eyes, Daryl. I can see it."

He glanced away, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he composed himself. "Ain't nothin' you need to worry about. Just focus on stayin' alive."

The rejection stung, but you sensed the pain beneath his tough exterior. We continued the journey back to the hideout in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy between us.

Daryl's gaze flickered, a complex mix of emotions passing through his eyes. "Ain't used to sharin'. Don't see the point."

"Maybe you haven't found the right person to share with," you suggested, your eyes locking with his in a silent plea.

He averted his gaze, shaking his head laughing. "You're too damn persistent."

you chuckled, the tension easing as you scooted a little closer to him. "I can’t help that I am curious. I just find you interesting."

For a moment, he looked conflicted, torn between the safety of his silence and the longing for connection. The dance continued, the sun casting a warm glow on our faces, the air thick with unspoken words.

you could feel Daryl's gaze lingering on you, his eyes tracing the curve of your jawline and the gentle slope of your neck.

With each glance, the tension between us mounted, a potent mixture of longing and uncertainty. My eyes scanned all his features bathed in the soft glow of the fading sunlight. Looking at his hands and the accompanying veins, you felt a surge of desire pool in the pit of your stomach.

As if sensing your thoughts, Daryl moved to sit closer to you slowed, his movements deliberate as he closed the distance between us. The air crackled with anticipation, charged with the unspoken promise of what was to come.

Without a word, Daryl reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek with a feather-light touch. A shiver coursed through you at the contact, your skin tingling with electricity. His touch was tentative yet filled with raw intensity, a silent confession of the desire that burned between us.

you met his gaze, your breath catching in your throat as you drowned in the depths of his eyes. There was a hunger there, a primal need that mirrored your own, and in that moment, you knew that you were powerless to resist him.

Leaning in, Daryl's lips brushed against mine in a tender caress, you could feel his laboured breaths against your mouth.

“Can I?”

His hands were now cupping your face, making you stare directly into his eyes.

“Please?” He said in a low almost begging tone.

Speechless, all you could do is nod. His kiss was slow and dreamy, a gentle exploration of lips and tongues as you both got lost in each other.

Time seemed to stand still as you both kissed, the world around us fading into oblivion as you surrendered to the intoxicating pull of desire. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between us, our bodies pressed together in a heated embrace.

You melted into his touch, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair as you deepened the kiss, craving more of him with each passing moment. The heat of his body seared through you, igniting a fire that consumed us both in its passionate embrace.

you felt his groin press against you. He wanted it just as much as you did. His hands slid under your t shirt, his warm fingers dancing along your stomach and ribcage. My eyes bore into his, a look of pure delight watching you.

“I want you. All of you,” He whispered.

Before you could utter a word, Daryl swept you up in his arms, your legs instinctively winding around his muscular waist. With an ease that spoke volumes of his strength, he carried you into a secluded field, the tall grass dancing lazily in the cool breeze. He set you down gently, as if you were the most precious of treasures, the soft grass beneath providing a cushion for your body. He towered over you, his gaze heavy with desire and admiration. You peered up at him through a veil of long lashes, a silent plea evident in your eyes.

"Are you sure you want this?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

His concern was endearing, but you were beyond the point of no return. Without saying a word, you removed your shirt, the cool air grazing your exposed skin causing goosebumps to erupt. Daryl swallowed audibly, his gaze darkening in response to your silent affirmation.

His hands went to his belt deftly, the sound of the buckle echoing in the otherwise quiet field. As he freed himself, your breath hitched in anticipation. His arousal was evident, hard and throbbing as he began to stroke himself, his eyes hungrily roaming over your body. You felt a delicious warmth spread through you, a heady combination of desire and anticipation.

"Do you see what you do to me?" He rasped, his voice breaking slightly as he tried to steady his breath.

Unable to bear the sight of him pleasuring himself any longer, you propped yourself up on your elbows and moved closer, intent on taking over. But before you could reach him, he stopped you, pushing you gently back onto the grass.

"No, not yet," he murmured, shaking his head.

His eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as he watched your impatience. A small smirk played on his lips as he asked, "Can I take care of you first?"

Your response was immediate, the words tumbling out in a desperate plea, "Please, Daryl."

He silenced your pleas with a searing kiss, his lips trailing a path of fire down to your stomach. He paused for a moment before discarding your jeans, leaving you bare beneath him. Your breath hitched as his thumb traced a delicate path along your clothed sex, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

His fingers hooked under the fabric of your underwear, pulling them off with a teasing slowness. His eyes never left your body, drinking in the sight of your arousal. His fingers gently parted you, his gaze darkening at the sight of your wetness.

"You have no idea what I've wanted to do to you," he whispered, his voice rough with desire. "From the moment I saw you, I wanted to claim you."

His touch was torturous in its slow intimacy, sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. You found yourself grinding against his hand, your body seeking more contact.

"Why don't you tell me what you want, princess?" He asked, his gaze never leaving yours.

You shook your head, unable to find the words. His fingers continued their teasing circling around your sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

"Come on, sweetheart, let me hear you say it," he encouraged, his voice low and coaxing.

His touch was a tantalizing torture. You turned your head away, a soft plea escaping your lips.

"Please, Daryl," you mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

His free hand gently coaxed your face back towards him. You knew he wouldn't stop until he heard you say the words. A blush of pleasure and embarrassment bloomed on your cheeks.

"Please, Daryl. Make me come," you whispered, your hands hiding your face in embarrassment.

His grin widened at your words, and without another word, he lowered his head to your centre. His tongue traced a long, slow path up your slit, causing you to moan. Before you could plead for more, his mouth closed over your bud, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His hand kept your thighs parted while the other anchored you to the ground, ensuring you couldn't escape the pleasure he was bestowing upon you. His tongue lavished attention on your sensitive bud, his pace driving you closer to the edge.

"So good," he murmured against your skin, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you.

When you were able to open your eyes, you found him looking up at you, his gaze intense and filled with desire. The sight of Daryl pleasuring you, his eyes locked with yours, was enough to push you over the edge.

As the knot of pleasure in your stomach tightened, your body starting to squirm beneath his touch. He continued his ministrations, the pleasure building until you were on the brink of release.

As the pulse of pleasure started to rip through you, you clutched at the grass beneath, your body arching off the ground. Daryl continued his relentless assault, his tongue and lips working in tandem to draw every last shudder from your trembling body.

"Oh god, Daryl!" you gasped, your body convulsing in the throes of pleasure. Your vision blurred as an earth-shattering orgasm washed over you. You could hear Daryl's muffled groan as he continued to pleasure you through your climax, the sensation almost too much to bear.

Gradually, your breaths began to slow, your body going limp beneath him. Daryl gently kissed his way back up your body, his eyes never leaving yours. His arousal was still evident, straining against his abdomen, but he made no move to touch himself.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.

You nodded, a weak smile playing on your lips. "I'm more than okay," you murmured.

His lips captured yours in a heated kiss, his body pressing closer. The taste of yourself on his lips sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. Pulling away, Daryl propped himself up on his elbows, his eyes dark with lust.

"I need you," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

The sight of him, so raw and vulnerable, was enough to bring your post-orgasmic haze crashing down. You reached between you, your hand wrapping around his arousal. He groaned at the contact, his head falling forward to rest on your shoulder.

"Please, Daryl. I need you too," you whispered. The words were barely out of your mouth before he was positioning himself at your entrance, his eyes locked with yours.

With one slow thrust, he filled you completely. You gasped at the sensation, your body stretching to accommodate him. He stilled, allowing you to adjust to his size before starting to move. His thrusts were slow and measured at first, building in intensity as you moaned beneath him.

The sight of him above you, his body slick with sweat and his eyes heavy with lust, was enough to reignite the fire within you. Your body responded to his, meeting each of his thrusts with one of your own.

His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming more desperate. The coil in your stomach started to tighten again, your body tensing in anticipation. Daryl seemed to sense this, his hand reaching down to circle your sensitive bud.

It was too much. The combination of his thrusts and his fingers sent you spiralling into another intense orgasm. Your body clenched around him, your cries of pleasure echoing in the quiet field.

With a few more ragged thrusts, Daryl followed you over the edge. He collapsed on top of you, his breaths coming in short gasps. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both came down from your highs.

"You're amazing," he murmured against your neck, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

You smiled, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. "You're not so bad yourself, Daryl."

Daryl laughed and drew you closer to him, his arms enveloping you in a tender embrace. The way he held you, it was as if he was trying to capture the moment, to hold onto it forever, not wanting to let it end. His grip tightened ever so slightly, a silent indication of his reluctance to let this moment, this connection between you two, fade away. His every gesture, every touch, spoke volumes of his longing to hold onto this moment, to not let it end.

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