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buckybabesonly · 1 year

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Dirty Little Secret

Summary: You believe Bucky doesn’t even remember your name, not knowing he moans it to himself at night.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Masturbation (male)

Word count: 1.4K

A/N: Wrote this on my phone lol sorry for any potential errors. Just wanted to get a little smutty post out there. Also - thanks for nearly 400 followers in just over one week of starting this blog! I’m so happy 🥲 Enjoy!

“Hey. Are you listening?”

A pair of fingers snapped in front of your eyes, breaking you out of your reverie. You blinked in embarrassment as Natasha scowled at you playfully.

“Seriously though, did you listen to anything I just said?”

“No,” you confessed sheepishly.

Her eyes followed your line of sight, landing on a certain Bucky Barnes.

“Ah. You started writing ‘Mrs Bucky Barnes’ across your notepads yet?”

You blushed, heat rising to your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You supposed that one would have to be blind not to notice the goo-goo eyes you gave Bucky all the time whenever he was in the vicinity.

He had arrived at the compound just a few months ago, settling in to his new reformed life away from his history as the Winter Soldier. Steve did his best to help him adjust, and from what you could tell, he was fairly quiet and kept to himself.

“He’s kind of exactly my type,” you confessed to Natasha quietly, biting on your lower lip.

“I see. You like a guy with a high body count, huh.”

“Nat!” You exclaimed, slapping her arm as she snickered at the double entendre. “Not funny.”

“Hey, he gave me this.” Natasha yanked up her top, showing off her scar just above the hipbone. “I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

You grumbled in response as Natasha leant closer, cocking an eyebrow. “Anyway, as I was saying, I really need you to help me run some analysis on this equipment we picked up from…”

You shuffled through the compound hallways, a stack of files in your arms. You rounded a corner sharply, almost colliding with a tall, dark figure who sidestepped you neatly.

“Jesus Christ!” Though a collision had been avoided, you squawked in shock nonetheless, promptly dropping the files onto the floor.

“Ah, shit. Sorry,” Bucky said, quickly kneeling down to collect them.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you floundered, cheeks flushing red. He straightened up and stacked the files on your arms neatly, his long fingers brushing against yours ever so slightly. His eyes met yours as he offered you a half smile, the corners of his lips quirking up.

His irises were a gorgeous, gray blue, and you silently noted that you had never been stood so close to him before. He smelt so good, and he looked even better in his tight tactical gear.

“Thank you,” you stuttered, wanting to kick yourself at how ruffled you sounded. The effect this man had on you was unfair.

“You’re welcome…” he paused deliberately, and you offered your name to him eagerly. He repeated it, and you loved the way the syllables sounded on his tongue.

“See you around,” he said casually before he strode off again, leaving you a flustered mess in the hallway.

Okay, at least step one was accomplished - he finally knew your name, even if he might not remember it.

You sighed, knowing your little schoolgirl crush was going to be the death of you.

Bucky lay in bed that night, as he did most nights since coming to the compound, with his hands down his pants.

He liked to start off slow, usually. On the odd occasion, he would want it fast, his hands working overtime on his cock as he showered, water streaming over his body as he pumped himself to completion. He would cum hard each time, bracing himself against the shower tiles, your name on his lips.

But usually he liked to take his time. Enjoyed painting a picture in his mind, a mental porno in which you were the star.

God, you had been so fucking cute today. Bucky loved watching you squirm, seeing you blush, practically see the blood rushing to your cheeks.

He had playfully orchestrated the encounter in the hallway, able to smell your subtle perfume with his elevated senses (it had the smell of vanilla and sakura blossoms) as you power walked through the compound.

He was delighted when you practically unravelled in front of him just from a simple stare and a sweep of his fingers. He wondered what you would be like if he ever got you in front of him, naked, ready to take his cock.

His hand palmed his semi-hard erection as he settled back against the pillows, eyes closed. He teased himself, fingers gently tapping his dick, pulling slightly at his balls.

Your face was fixed in his mind. He recalled your wide, shocked eyes, your mouth open in a small ‘O’ as you gasped.

He imagined that mouth stretching wider, tongue lolling out, asking to suck his cock. You would be on your knees as he stood over you, feeding his dick into your warm cavern, and you would take as much as you could like a good girl. So eager to please.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky hissed, pulling down the hem of his sweatpants and freeing himself completely.

His cock was heavy and thick as it lay against his stomach, twitching slightly as his mind filled itself with the most lewd images of you.

Of course he knew your name. He had asked Steve for it after the first few times he’d spotted you, playing it off as a casual inquiry.

He moaned it now as he dragged drops of his pre-cum down his shaft, wishing it was your hands that was wrapped around his length.

Somehow he found it thrilling, the idea of you believing that he had no clue who you were. He wondered what your reaction would be if you could see him now, rendered a horny, sweaty mess as he masturbated to thoughts of you and only you.

He imagined you spread out in front of him, legs wide, panting and begging for him to fuck your tight pussy. He would slap the head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it against your wet folds, teasing.

In reality, he knew that if he ever found himself in that position, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Hell, he’d be the one begging you to let him fuck you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” Bucky grunted, his hand beginning to move at a steady tempo. If he went too fast, he would definitely cum within seconds, and he wanted to make this last.

He imagined being able to fondle your soft breasts, imagined being able use his mouth on your nipples, wanting to suckle on your tits. He imagined being allowed to kiss every inch of your body, from your toes, up the inner thighs, through the valley of your breasts and to your lips.

He would kiss you with passion and fire, tongue searching yours, wet and hot and needy. He would cup his hand behind your neck, fuck into you slowly and make you moan his name into his mouth.

He tried to imagine how that would sound like, high pitched and breathy.

“Beg for me,” Bucky said aloud, his hand moving up and down his cock as he fantasised about it moving in and out of your cunt instead. “God, beg me to cum inside you.”

He bet your soaking pussy would feel ten times better than jerking off alone in his room, but for now, this was the best he could get. He imagined rutting into you, hard, watching you shake under him as you became undone.

“You gonna let me cum inside you, princess?” He groaned, feeling himself reach the edge. He could see you in his mind, touching your own clit, pleasuring yourself as Bucky’s fat cock disappeared inside you over and over and over again.

You would beg for him to breed you, to fill you up, that sweet mouth speaking the filthiest words.

“Ah - ah fuck, I’ll give it to you, you’re taking it all like a good girl,” Bucky gasped, his hand clenching around his thick, veiny cock before he released all the pent up sexual frustration inside.

Creamy, hot ropes of cum spurted out, onto his stomach. He steadily stroked himself through the high, imagining you crying out as you orgasmed, imagining you being filled up with his seed.

He envisioned how it would look as he continued to thrust, you letting yourself be used, whimpering at the over stimulation.

Bucky was breathing rapidly, body finally going lax as his sticky hand released his softening cock. His heart was beating rapidly as he licked his lips, sighing longingly.

One day, he thought, almost a prayer, one day I’ll get to see what you look like when you cum.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky smut #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky fic #Bucky x you smut #Bucky x you PWP

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suashii · 4 months

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꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒲𝐼𝒩𝒯𝐸𝑅 𝒲𝒪𝒩𝒟𝐸𝑅𝐿𝒜𝒩𝒟 — christmas-y and winter-esque activities with the hq boys !

info ⭑ includes: sakusa kiyoomi, akaashi keiji, & iwaizumi hajime ﾉ 2.2k wc ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff

note ⭑ this is part two; you can find the first part here! also considering doing one more part with oikawa — anyone else you'd like to see?

❆ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

“woah!” your hand tightens around sakusa’s and the other flails in search of the railing you swore you were ready to let go just a minute ago. if your loss of balance is evidence of anything, it’s that the confidence you had built up in your ice skating was misplaced. when you suggested the activity a couple of days ago, you didn’t expect that it would be so troublesome.

“you okay?” sakusa speaks up to ask from beside you.

you carefully turn to face him. his cheeks are painted a rosy hue and the dark curls hanging over his forehead contrast the fluffy, white earmuffs situated atop them. just like he has been all night, sakusa’s steadily standing on the blades of his skates. the fact that you’re the only one struggling makes you frown. “if being moderately embarrassed is okay, then yes, i’m peachy.”

he smiles at your sarcasm but gives your gloved hand a comforting squeeze. a puff of cold air is visible as you let out a dramatic sigh. “how the hell are you so good at this anyway?”

still sure to hold your hand, sakusa glides along the ice so that he’s in front of you. his change in position makes you wobble a bit but you’re able to stay upright. “my sister used to take me when i was younger.”

the thought of a little sakusa being guided around the rink by his sister brings a small smile to your lips. you wonder what he was like back then—did he stumble and frantically look for aid or was he born with a natural talent on the ice? you’d like to think that he was once in your shoes but you wouldn’t be surprised to find out he excelled from the beginning.

sakusa can practically see the gears turning in your head. he can’t help but think you aren’t having as much fun as you thought you would on this outing, with all the staggering and whatnot. he’s no expert himself but he is skilled enough to make your time here more enjoyable. “give me your hand.”

you look at your hand gripping the railing and then back to sakusa. “this hand?”

“yes, that hand.”

you think about how you’ve been floundering like a fish out of water since stepping foot in the rink and grimace at the thought of further making a fool of yourself. you tell sakusa as much. “i think i’m good here. i’d rather not risk hitting the ice.”

“i’m not going to let you fall,” sakusa assures you, inching forward to lessen the gap between the two of you. he holds his unoccupied hand out to you and meets your eye. “trust me.”

your boyfriend is nothing if not a man of his word. with a nod to encourage yourself, you loosen your grasp on the metal pole. you falter for a brief moment after letting go of the railing but your balance is quickly regained when sakusa takes your hand in his.

you look at him with widened eyes and sakusa swears he can see sparkles in them. “i’m still standing,” you excitedly tell him through a smile.

“told you.” your smile is infectious and is mirrored on sakusa. “i’ll pull you forward now.”

the dark-haired man gives you no time to protest before he’s skating backward and dragging you along the ice with him. a high-pitched squeal marks your initial surprise but the wail turns to delighted laughter when you realize, for the first time tonight, that you’re actually skating. sure, it may be with the aid of sakusa giving you momentum and keeping you on your feet, but you’re more than happy to not be struggling anymore.

after a couple of laps around the rink, sakusa slows and lets you stumble into his chest. your less-than-graceful slump is cushioned by the fabric of his scarf. you wrap your arms around him and tip your chin up to look at him.

sakusa pulls you impossibly closer to him, leaving a kiss on your hairline before asking, “are you having fun?”

you hum, snuggling into him. “yeah. thank you, kiyoomi.”

❆ AKAASHI KEIJI

even with gloves pulled over your hands and a hat protecting the tips of your ears, the cold is beginning to get to you. you should have expected this much would be a consequence of being outside for so long, but upon seeing the fresh, untouched snow left in the courtyard of your apartment complex after getting home for the day, you couldn’t help but abandon your plans and beg akaashi to help you bring some festivity to the small community by building a snowman.

you’re busy rolling the ball of snow that will become its head and the wetness of the snow is starting to soak through your pants. the clothes you had worn to work aren’t suited for this sort of weather but once you’ve started something, you make it your mission to see it through until the end.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t ready to get into the warmth of your apartment and a pair of cozy pajamas, though.

you tasked akaashi with running upstairs to put your things inside and to retrieve some materials necessary for putting the finishing touches on your snowman. he seemed reluctant to leave you out in the cold at first but his drawn-out absence is starting to make you wonder if he’s taking a few extra minutes to warm up inside.

even thinking such a thought is enough to make you giggle to yourself under your breath. he would never consider leaving you in this bitter weather all alone if you didn’t ask him to. you’re not sure what’s taking him so long but you do know he’ll be back as soon as humanly possible.

you’re humming a tune to keep you distracted from the cold while you pack the snow into a ball.

the melody you’re vocalizing is interrupted by the sound of the external door opening. you don’t bother turning around to see who it is—people are constantly coming in and out of the building. you just hope no one looks at you strangely for constructing a snowman by yourself at this hour.

“don’t you think it’s time for a break?”

the proximity of the voice makes you flinch but you relax when you register that it’s akaashi’s. you clap the snow off of your gloves before standing up and turning around to see what he means.

“we’re almost d—” you start, but the sight ahead of you makes you stop in your tracks.

you expect to see the supplies you sent him to go get in his hands but two cups—the good ones he uses to take his coffee to work—are in his grasp instead. he holds one out to you, gently shaking it in a silent gesture to urge you to take it. “hot chocolate.”

you poke your lip out in a pout as you reach out with both hands to take a hold of the travel mug. through your gloves, you feel the heat of the metal. that combined with akaashi’s gesture are enough alone to warm you from the inside out. you bring the mug to your lips and take a cautious sip. the warm beverage on your tongue makes you sigh in delight. somehow, it's always better when akaashi makes it for you.

“good?” akaashi asks after taking a sip of his own.

“delicious,” you nod, a smile tugging at your lips, “and very much appreciated.” you see now what was taking him so much time upstairs. of course he was thinking of you and your wellbeing the entire time he was away. he’s often told you that you’re always on his mind and he’s made that much clear through the heartfelt action.

you hum when you realize that you sent him inside for things that weren’t hot chocolate. “did you get the other stuff, though?”

akaashi nods, unzipping his coat just enough to pull out the santa hat he tucked in there. you laugh as you take it from him. inside, he’s stuffed a scarf and a singular baby carrot. you look at him with a wobbly smile, jerking your head in the direction of the almost-finished snowman. “shall we?”

your teamwork makes the process go back twice as quickly and in almost no time, your festive snowman is complete. rocks make up his eyes and mouth, the tiny carrot his nose, and a couple of sticks shoved into the middle snow sphere act as his arms. one of your scarves is wrapped around his lack of a neck and he sports a santa hat atop his head.

the two of you snap a quick photo with your creation—one where akaashi pretends to eat his nose while you stand by and watch in shock—before hurrying back inside to cozy up in bed for the rest of the night.

❆ IWAIZUMI HAJIME

it doesn’t snow in california, not in irvine, at least. iwaizumi has only had to spend the holidays there once, but he vividly recalls how homesick he felt with the lack of snow that year. he’s never been a huge fan of it, but he’s grown a newfound appreciation for the wintery weather since then—so much so that he’s sure to enjoy some activities with you in it whenever he’s visiting home for the few weeks at the end of the year.

you’re usually more than happy to oblige because the activities are innocent and lighthearted enough. though, this year, the stakes seem to have risen.

you don’t remember the snowball fights in your childhood being this… intense. it had started harmlessly enough with the two of you playfully chucking the poorly packed masses of snow at each other but somewhere along the way, after you both started taking the game a little more seriously, you had run off to take cover from iwaizumi’s assault.

you’re stationed behind a tree now, on your knees and upping your supply of snowballs. it’s only a matter of time until he makes his way to your place in the park and you want to be prepared to fight back when he does. you may be his lover but you’ve learned quickly that the title doesn’t grant you immunity—he doesn’t plan on taking it easy on you.

the crunch of snow beneath boots makes your ears perk up. iwaizumi is close by and you don’t plan on getting caught like a deer in headlights. quietly gathering up your ammunition, you rise to your full height and take a deep breath before darting off in the opposite direction of the footsteps.

“hey!” iwaizumi’s voice rings throughout the air as he picks up his pace to chase after you. you must have abandoned your stealth tactic because you’re screaming like you’re being pursued by a maniac. if he wasn’t so hellbent on catching up to you, he’d be keeled over in laughter due to your theatrics.

as you run to nowhere in particular, you can hear balls of snow just missing you and falling flat on the ground. you wonder how many snowballs iwaizumi has wasted trying to sling at you in motion and if you'll have the upper hand soon. maybe it’s not the best idea to turn around while you’re running but you do so to see how close he is and to get a glimpse of how much snow he has left to throw.

you aren’t able to get a good look at either before your foot catches on something—likely a lump of snow—and you tumble to the ground. your fall knocks the breath out of you and you’re pretty sure you crush all of your snowballs upon landing.

“holy shit,” you faintly hear iwaizumi call out as he approaches. just a few seconds later, he comes to kneel down beside you. “you okay, babe?”

you are. nothing hurts too bad and you’re sure you’ll feel a little sore from your spill but it’s nothing to warrant worry. despite that, you’re willing to milk this for a little attention. you paint a look that you hope comes across as pain over your face. “it hurts.”

“where?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. “show me.”

weakly lifting your arm, you point to your lips. the concern drains from his face and is replaced by faux annoyance when he sees that you’re only messing with him. his swift change in reaction makes you grin but you don’t drop the act. “kiss please.”

iwaizumi plays along, not wasting a moment before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. the bitterness of the air has chilled both of your lips but they warm up in no time being pressed together like this. he pulls away just slightly to ask, “all better?”

“almost.”

he’s about to ask what you mean when chilly snow smashes against the side of his face. you throw your hands up in victory, earning an eye roll from the man hovering above you. “headshot, i win!”

salutations from sua! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #sakusa x reader #akaashi x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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beskarandblasters · 2 months

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As Long As I Have You

Jackson Era!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: My entry for the Space Sisters Discord Valentine’s exchange! Hope you like it @joels-shitty-puns ❤️

Summary: It’s yours and Joel’s first Valentine’s Day in Jackson and he wants to do something special. So he enlists the help of Ellie to distract you all day while he prepares his big surprise.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, very light angst, drinking, kissing, super fluffy ending

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

Joel Miller is not one for grand displays of affection. He shows his love in simple ways such as holding you tight as you’re lying in bed together or saving the last bit of coffee for you, things like that. So when it comes to things like Christmas, your birthday, or even… Valentine‘s Day he flounders, never knowing what to get you to show you how much he loves you. That’s exactly what’s happening now in what will be your first Valentine’s Day in Jackson together.

After he met you in Kansas City almost a year and a half ago at this point, you quickly weaseled your way into his heart, unbeknownst to him. He’s not one for love. He’s not one for caring about other people. His “relationship” with Tess was a business partnership turned sexual, with no strings attached (at least out loud anyway). But you and Ellie made him realize what he missed most in this cruel world; people to look after and love. And that’s why he wants to show you how much he loves you.

He spends the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, planning out in his mind what he’ll do. It’s still winter so picking flowers is a no. There’s not exactly a mall down the street where he can buy chocolates or purchase a necklace. Fuck, what do people even do for Valentine’s Day? It’s been years since he properly celebrated. Maybe he can cook you a nice meal? He’ll want it to be a surprise but that’s hard to pull off when you two are basically attached at the hip. He’ll need help if he wants this to actually be a surprise.

So he turns to Ellie.

It’s two days before Valentine’s Day. He and Ellie are walking home from the dining hall while you’re at the stables tending to the horses, a rare moment where you’re not around so he can ask Ellie for a favor.

“I need help,” he says.

“What kind of help?”

“Y’know… Valentine’s Day is coming up and-”

“Gross,” she snorts, turning and looking at Joel, expecting there to be an amused expression on his face. But to her surprise, there’s not. “But continue.”

“I want to do something special.”

“I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

“I’m not but… she deserves something nice.”

“For putting up with your ass? Yeah, I’d say so,” she laughs, turning to look at him again. But again no amusement from him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Distract her while I make dinner all day.”

“Got it,” she nods, “Distract her how?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” he chuckles, opening the front door to his house.

He and Ellie sit at his kitchen table, feeling full from a meal at the dining hall. It’s silent for a moment while Joel ponders what exactly he’s going to make for you. What kind of post-apocalyptic dinner screams romance? Well for one, he could ask Tommy for a bottle of wine from the Tipsy Bison. He could ask Maria if she’s got any spare candles to set the mood. And he can probably go out and hunt something, perhaps a deer or rabbit. Maybe pair whatever he catches with a side of roasted vegetables. It’s all coming together in his head.

“Well, if you don’t need me anymore, I’m gonna go out with my friends,” Ellie says, getting up from her chair.

“Sure.”

“What time do you need me on the day of?”

“Around noon so and have her back by dinner time.”

“Jeez.”

“I have to make sure I have everything right, okay?” he sighs.

“Right right. Master chef Joel Miller is gracing our presence that day. Gotta make sure we’re all ready,” she jokes.

“Alright. Alright. Get outta here,” Joel says, slumping down further into his chair as Ellie leaves. Tomorrow, he’ll ask Tommy and Maria about the wine and candles. But in the meantime, he needs a drink. For a man who’s fought clickers, crossed the entire country with Ellie, and took out an entire hospital of Fireflies he’s so nervous for something as mundane as a Valentine’s Day dinner.

It’s the big day, Valentine’s Day in Jackson. Ellie asked you the day before if you could help her get her own Valentine’s Day surprise ready. Though, she won’t tell you or Joel who it’s for…

But that’s beside the point. He’s gotta get going on his plan. The wine and the candles are secured, hiding somewhere in the house where he didn’t think you’d find them. His meal is ready to be prepared and cooked. And after he’s done with the food, he’ll tidy up the house as best as he can. As he starts his day he wonders what exactly Ellie has planned to keep you distracted.

“So what is it that you need?” you ask.

“I, uh, wanna make a Valentine’s Day card.”

“Sure, that sounds like fun! Should we go back to Joel’s or-”

“No!” Ellie says a bit too loudly, “We’ll go to the dining hall.”

“Okay,” you nod, leading her there.

Maria has a table set up in the dining hall with papers, pens, pencils, paint— practically whatever art supplies were left over from before the outbreak. But she also has some homemade paint made from plant and vegetable dyes. It's a special thing for the holiday that Jackson does every year to make Valentine’s Day feel at least a little bit normal during these trying times.

You and Ellie sit across from each other, picking out what art supplies you want to use for your cards. You hadn’t thought too much about Valentine’s Day until Ellie brought it up. You just assumed you and Joel would spend the day together but you’re also happy to help Ellie out. It’s cute that she has a Valentine of her own even though she won’t tell you who it is.

“So who’s the special someone?” you ask, folding a piece of paper for your card.

“A person,” Ellie says nonchalantly.

“Well, we know that,” you snort. “But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

She nods, resigning back to drawing her card. You try to take a peek at what she’s writing but it looks like she’s drawing a few plants, no name written yet. You keep your card simple on the front, drawing a heart and writing “To my valentine, Joel”.

But on the inside, you try your best to draw a silhouette of you and Joel sitting on a bench. The drawing is from behind and you’re resting your head on his shoulder. Ellie looks up from her card and steals a glance at yours.

“He’ll love that,” she says.

“You think?” you ask, holding it up to show her your progress.

“I do,” she smiles, looking down at her card. Still no name written on it yet.

You go to finish the inside, writing “Happy Valentine’s Day, Joel. As long as I have you, I’ll always be happy” followed by your name.

You notice that Ellie’s taking an exceptionally long time on her card, painting the flowers she drew. She must really be trying to impress someone. Eventually, her card is done and you assume this is where you part ways. But she says, “Alright, let’s go to the stables.”

“S-Sure,” you say, a bit surprised. You rise from your chair and hand your cards to Maria, who’s letting you keep them at the dining hall to dry before heading to the stables.

For some reason, you expect for this to be where Ellie gives her Valentine her card. But instead, you spend what feels like hours tending to the horses and the other livestock, giving the baby animals extra love. As you pet one of the new lambs, you wonder what Joel’s up to.

Joel’s plan is going to shit. He burned the rabbit and the vegetables. He found a tablecloth in the closet, presumably from the previous owners of this house, but he spilled red wine all over it. And to make matters worse, he caught it on fire slightly with one of the candles that tipped over. But he put it out before it spread any further.

The only thing that’s going his way is cleaning the house and even then, the kitchen’s still a disaster. You’ll be home in less than an hour and all he has is spilled wine, burnt dinner, a dirty kitchen, and a ruined tablecloth.

“Alright we can go now,” Ellie says right around dinner time.

“Okay. What now?” you ask.

“We’ll go get our cards. And then you should probably go home to Joel.”

“What about you?”

“I’m gonna go… deliver my card.”

“Good luck, Ellie. I’m sure whoever it’s for will love it,” you tell her, looking her in the eye and putting a hand on her shoulder. She looks away and mutters a “thanks” before walking with you back to the dining hall.

It’s packed inside, filled with all the couples of Jackson. You and Ellie grab your cards and prepare to part ways for the evening. But before she goes she blurts out, “Wait! I have to tell you something.”

“Okay,” you say, facing her again.

“There is no valentine.”

“Oh?”

“I lied. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I still had fun spending the day with you,” you reassure her.

She sighs and says, “Just… When you go home it’ll all make sense,” before turning and walking down the street.

You shake your head, wondering what sort of shenanigans she has planned for you at home. But you’re just excited to see Joel and give him his card.

Except when you head inside, it smells… like something died in here.

“Jeez, Joel. Did a bomb go off in here?” you joke, taking off your shoes in the entryway.

He doesn’t respond and you don’t see him yet either. You take off your coat and grab the card from the pocket before turning into the kitchen to find Joel, sitting at the kitchen table with his head in his hands.

“What happened?!” you say, pulling up a chair next to him.

“I just… I tried doing something nice for you but it all went wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I burned dinner. I spilled the wine. And the tablecloth almost went up in flames,” he says, gesturing to the mess before him.

“Oh, Joel…” you sigh, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into your chest, “It’s the thought that counts.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, “You just deserve something special.”

You pull back, look him in the eye, and say, “As long as I have you, I’ll always be happy.”

“You mean that?”

“Swear on my heart,” you say, reaching for his hand and squeezing it, “And besides it’s not a total loss… You didn’t spill all the wine,” you add with a chuckle.

That gets a laugh out of him and he smiles for the first time today, a sight you’ll never get sick of seeing. He reaches forward and hands you a glass of wine before grabbing his own.

“I have something for you,” you tell him.

“Oh no, you’re about to make me feel worse,” he sighs.

“It’s nothing crazy,” you say, holding up the card.

He takes it in his hands and reads your note, admiring the drawing.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says after a beat, setting the card down on the table.

“Well now you’re just talking crazy,” you laugh, holding up your glass of wine to clink with his.

He laughs too, holding up his glass of wine and tapping it against yours.

“I love you,” he says, taking a sip.

“I love you, too,” you say.

And for a moment, you two sit there, leaning against each other and enjoying the stillness. But eventually, you hear his stomach growling so you laugh and say, “Should we go to the dining hall? I was in there earlier and the food smelled pretty good…”

“Might as well,” he sighs, standing from his chair.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing your temple before whispering another “I love you”. And with that, you two walk hand in hand, ready to enjoy your first Valentine’s Day in Jackson together.

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #tlou fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal joel miller #pedrostories #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller one shot #SpaceSistersSecretValentine

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lees-chaotic-brain · 2 months

Text

Shouto gets hit by a quirk, causing him to do some unexpected things...

WC: 3.2K

CW: Swearing, miscommunication, AFAB reader (reader has breasts), fluff

Note: Loosely inspired by that one scene in the Secret Garden K-Drama where Ju-Won makes Ra-Im cuddle with him, and Love Potion No. 9 by @daycourtofficiall!! Special shout-out to @andypantsx3 for beta-reading this for me. Tysm!!

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Your Valentine’s Day started like any other. The quiet beeping of your alarm cutting through the cozy silence of your bedroom as you stirred beneath your perfectly warm covers. Blearily, you reached out hitting snooze before slipping back under your blankets. After a few minutes, your alarm went off again, and this time you threw back your sheets.

The wooden panels of your bedroom floor were cold against your feet as you padded to your bathroom to get ready. Half an hour later, you were ready to go, grabbing a jacket to protect yourself from the sharp February chill as you headed out the door.

As always, you walked down the block to your favorite cafe and ordered your usual, chatting with the barista as she made your order. Once your coffee was acquired, you ventured back out into the crisp winter air and began the quarter mile walk to the hero agency you worked at.

Walking along the sidewalk, you sipped your coffee, savoring its warmth while you observed couples all around you exchanging flowers and chocolates. That was right. It was Valentine’s Day. A little snort escaped you as you thought about the hordes of teenage girls that were bound to swarm Shouto today. February 14th, the one of the year people had absolutely no boundaries when it came to the attractive duo-toned hero.

Finally reaching the agency, you hustled inside, a warm gust of air brushing over you as you stepped through the door. Nodding at the security guard lounging at his desk and shooting the secretary a warm smile you got on the elevator. On the way up, you closed your eyes, leaning against the wall as you enjoyed the quiet, interrupted only by the periodic dings informing you that another floor had passed. Pressure beneath your feet told you the elevator was slowing, and it dinged a final time before the doors rolled open.

Stepping out, you wound your way around your coworkers, smiling and returning polite greetings before retreating to the relative peace and quiet of your office and settling in at your desk to go over some PR documents from the day before. A couple hours passed, and the documents were done so you were in the process of putting together an agenda for the day when a harried intern burst into your office startling you.

“Shouto got hit with a quirk!! We don’t know what it is, but he’s insisting he’s fine and refusing to get checked out.”

Sighing, you shut your laptop and quirked an eyebrow at the frazzled teen.

“And what, exactly, do you expect me to do about that?”

Watching him flounder for an answer, you felt a little bad for adding to his torment, so you agreed to go. Shooting your half-finished coffee one more mournful look, you stood and followed him out, closing your office door behind you. Sometimes you wondered if the handsome pro hero’s good looks were just there to balance out his complete lack of both tact and common sense. Either that, or his goal was to make the life of you, his manager, as difficult as possible.

Realizing that the intern was taking you in the direction of the infirmary you had installed in the agency primarily for Deku, you sped ahead, irritation coursing through your veins. Was it really that hard for him to just do what he needed to do and not throw a temper tantrum? Your irritation only increased as his deep monotone floated out through the open door to meet you in the hallway. Even from just the little snippets you did catch, you could tell he was arguing and being his usual incorrigibly obstinate self.

The beat of your chunky heels on the polished linoleum announced your presence as you marched in, the rhythmic thumps heralding the storm of your incoming temper. The sight of Red Riot and Chargebolt speaking in hushed voices welcomed you. Chargebolt shot you a flirtatious wink, and Red Riot greeted you with a sheepish smile before stepping aside and gesturing behind him to where Shouto was clearly arguing with your friend Aimi, who was the agency’s resident quirk specialist, and Ingenium. Nodding at Red Riot with a small smile you strode over to the trio. At least, you tried to.

Shouto noticed you before you could reach them and the next thing you knew your cheek was pressed against a firm pectoral. What? The addictive and unique scent of Shouto filled your nostrils as strong arms wrapped around your waist and back, crushing you against a muscular torso. Again, what?

It took you a few seconds to process that it was Shouto who was gripping you in a tight embrace. Shouto, the current number three hero, your boss, and also your long-time not so little crush. His cologne swirling in your nose muddied your thoughts, mixing them into a cesspool of intrusive thoughts and vague confusion. After an embarrassingly long five seconds you managed to pull yourself together and jerked away.

“Hey! What’s going on? What was that for…”

A pair of intense heterochromic eyes bored into your own, causing you to trail off as the dual toned man leaned down to peer into your face. There was an awkward pause, and the entire room seemed to be holding its breath.

“Your eyes truly are gorgeous. They might be my favorite part of you. I could gladly lose myself staring into them.”

The deep, even timbre of his voice filled the room, his words causing you to choke on your own saliva. You stared at him incredulously, unsure if you were having a hallucination due to a lack of caffeine or if he really said what you thought he did. You floundered, and just as you were finding your words he struck again.

“Although, your breasts are enjoyable to look at as well."

Your lungs officially gave up and attempted to forcibly exit your body through your mouth. Aimi spat out her mouthful of coffee all over her crisp white coat, mouthing ‘girl what’ at you with wide eyes while Ingenium’s scandalized gasp rang through the room. On the other side of the room, Red Riot and Chargebolt leaned against each other cackling.

A small, almost nonexistent frown appeared on Shouto’s face and his eyebrows furrowed slightly, his face perplexed.

“I…did not intend to say either of those things out loud. I-”

The overly obnoxious blare of Chargebolt’s ringtone filled the room, cutting Shouto off. Mouthing that it was Bakugou, the electric blond answered, holding the speaker several inches away from his ear to protect his eardrums. All eyes except for Shouto’s were on him as he spoke to the explosive hero.

“Wassup?...Oh you got her to explain her quirk to you? That's great man…mhm…symptoms? Uh, hey! Shouto! Feel weird at all?" The last part was directed at the man in question as he lowered the phone.

“I’m telling you I feel fine. I’m just a bit light headed and dizzy. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Was that a hint of irritation in Shouto’s voice? Chancing a look over at him, you noticed a slight downward tilt to his lips, which for him was the equivalent of a pout. Kaminari nodded and relayed the information.

“Yeah, he says he’s fine other than that. He has said some weird shit though. Anyways, what did the girl say her quirk was?”

There was a beat of silence as Kaminari listened to whatever Bakugou was saying, his eyes opening comically wide. His reaction and prolonged speechlessness was just beginning to make you feel uneasy when he began snickering.

“There’s no way. That’s fucking gold…yeah…how did it even happen?...You’re joking…that’s the best thing I’ve heard all year…Did she say how long it lasts for?...between one and six hours? That’s not too bad. I feel a little bad for Y/N though…Yeah, anyways see you later…yep will do…bye.”

He ended the call and turned to face all of you, barely suppressing his smirk. Alarm bells were ringing in your head. What did ‘I feel a little bad for Y/N’ mean? Why was the situation so funny? All you knew was that whatever he was about to say was not going to be conducive to the peaceful day you were hoping for.

“It seems our perverted ice prince here got hit by something of a love quirk.”

The room was silent for a moment as everyone tried to process what he was saying.

“A…love quirk? Is that why he’s been acting so weird towards me today?”

While you were glad that nothing serious was wrong with Shouto, a small part of you stung at the idea he only said what he did because of a quirk. But you were just being wishful. There was no way that a man like Todoroki Shouto, Japan’s unofficial hearthrob and number three hero would ever say, or even think something like that about you. You were just his normal -almost boring, really- manager with no special talents or characteristics to speak of. You shook your head, clearing your thoughts.

“Oh, but I wasn’t finished talking.”

Chargebolt gave you a look that told you he could sense your slight disappointment, a gleeful gleam in his eyes.

“What I didn’t get to say before you oh so kindly interrupted me was that it isn’t a normal love quirk. Instead of making someone fall in love, or acting as an aphrodisiac, it merely makes it so the affected can’t control their impulses around the person they have feelings for.”

You processed what he said, unsure if you heard and understood him correctly. If it only affected his impulses in regards to the person they had feelings for then that would mean-

No. You shook your head, resolutely stomping out the butterflies that came to life in your stomach at your train of thought. There was no reason to get your hopes up. You were reading too much into this. Todoroki probably just got confused because of the quirk and mistook you for the person he actually had feelings for. That made a lot more sense. Finally, Iida broke the quiet, his boisterous voice shattering the palpable disbelief.

“Todoroki’s personal feelings are none of our concern. Our main priority should be deciding what to do with him until the quirk wears off. Bakugou said one to six hours, correct?”

He spoke briskly, then turned and gestured at Todoroki, who had laid down on the cot in the center of the room sometime during the phone call. Whether it was because he merely got bored, or because his lightheadedness was finally getting to him, you were unsure. As all of you turned to stare at the man curled up on his side facing away from you, Aimi pushed her thin wire-framed glasses up on her freckled nose and cleared her throat.

“Erm, well for a quirk like this my recommendation would be for him to stay here until it wears off. Due to the lightheadedness and dizziness, I do think it would be best for him to remain laying down or seated so as to avoid falling and potentially injuring himself worse. We’ll also need to periodically check if the effects have faded, so we will need Y/N-.”

She gulped and threw you an apologetic glance. You thought you knew where she was going with this, and you were not exactly a fan of it.

“-Y/N to stop by every couple of hours so we can reevaluate. Is that okay with all of you?”

She mouthed an apology at you, and you sent her a glare that promised revenge. Oh she was so on her own the next time her crush, Deku, came in with some extreme injury and refused to get treated. Smiling, you angled your body, ensuring the rest of the room was unable to see you flipping off your so-called "friend."

“That’s no problem! Now, why don’t we all get back to work and leave Shouto to rest?”

Not waiting for anyone else’s answer you tried to make a beeline for the door so you could go crawl under your desk and attempt to process what the hell just happened. Unfortunately, something hindered your hasty escape. Specifically, a large, unfairly pretty hand hindered your hasty escape. Just as you had taken your first step towards freedom (and your coffee), long fingers reached up and grasped the back of your shirt, giving it a hard yank.

Caught off guard, you stumbled backward, your ass hitting the edge of the simple white cot in the center of the room. The simple white cot that the man currently gripping your shirt inhabited. Taking advantage of your momentary imbalance, Shouto smoothly pulled you over his body and onto the cot next to him, draping an arm and a firmly muscled thigh across your frame to keep you pinned snugly to his side.

The soft strands of his two-toned hair tickled your cheeks and nose as he buried his head in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into you like some sort of attention-starved cat. What the fuck? You blinked at everyone else in the room over Shouto’s head, flabbergasted. Weren’t you just walking away not even two seconds ago? Unfortunately, you were unable to think clearly, the addictive feel of Shouto’s body pressed against yours forcing a hard restart on your brain. It took two (or was it five?) torturously long seconds for your brain to reboot and finish loading.

Once it did, you began squirming because firstly, this was not appropriate at all. You were at work for heaven’s sake. Second of all, you were enjoying cuddling with your boss a little too much. Any longer and you might never be able to go back to living the way you did before discovering Shouto cuddles. You might even become an addict, unable to live without them. However, Shouto did not appreciate your feeble thrashing, or share any of the same concerns because he just pulled you tighter against his frame.

“Stop moving. ‘M trying to nap.”

You could feel the vibrations of his deep voice all across your body and unfortunately it did things to you. All of your muscles turned to jello and you relaxed into his warm embrace, suddenly unable to think straight. Over his broad shoulder you could see Kaminari and Aimi ushering everyone out, giggling and shooting sly glances over their shoulders at you.

Snapping a final picture, the two of them finally got everyone out and closed the door behind them, abandoning you. Just for that, next time you saw Deku you were going to tell him that Aimi had just fought a villain with an unknown quirk and needed help identifying it.

Wait, nothing about your prior thought made sense. The firm press of Shouto’s body against yours paired with the deliciously masculine smell of his cologne reduced you to a mindless idiot. Melting against him your eyes slowly fluttered shut, the beat of his heart a metronome counting out an uniquely Shouto lullaby that lulled you to sleep.

When you opened your eyes next, the room was awash with bright mid-afternoon light. Unsure of where you were, you tried to sit up, only to find you couldn’t, for there was some large object around your waist pinning you to the bed. Disoriented, you rolled over, and found yourself face to face with the one and only Todoroki Shouto, pure contentment emanating from him.

“Wha-?”

You made an embarrassingly vague and confused sound, staring at him agape with drool and sleep lines on your face. Lifting your wrist, you checked the time. It was three thirty?? That meant you had slept for six hours? Oh my god why hadn’t anyone woken you up? You jolted up, then realized something.

Wait, so Shouto had been hit by the quirk around eight o clock, which was seven and a half hours ago. And the longest it was supposed to last was six hours, so that meant the quirk should have worn off an hour and a half ago. Turning to Shouto accusingly, you opened your mouth to speak but he just pouted at you, and gently tugged you back down so you were laying beside him again.

“Hold up.” You said, pushing him away a bit so you could see his face. “The quirk was supposed to wear off over an hour ago.”

“And?” He raised an eyebrow as if you had said something stupidly obvious.

“Well, it obviously didn’t so you should’ve woken me up so we could get you looked at and-”

A large, warm palm covered your mouth.

“Who says it didn’t?”

You opened and closed your mouth at a loss for words. Wait, if it had worn off, then he had no excuses and-

You punched him hard in the chest and sat up.

“Todoroki Shouto! What about the girl you like? This isn’t fair to her. At least before you could excuse your behavior because the quirk disoriented you, but what about now? You-”

This time he wasn’t as gentle as he practically tackled you back onto the thin mattress of the cot and firmly pressed his mouth against yours. All thoughts immediately evacuated your mind, leaving only Shouto. And despite any and all common sense you thought yourself to possess, you found yourself kissing him back, tangling your hands in his hair to pull him closer. When he finally pulled away to catch his breath, he rested his forehead against yours, panting.

“Now do you see?”

His breath fanned across your face, and you had to fight to form any coherent thoughts when his gorgeous eyes were boring into yours so intensely.

“Uh, that you're kissing me even though you have a girl you like? Yeah I-”

He let out a low growl of annoyance and kissed you again, this time with more passion, pouring all of his frustration into the kiss. This time you pulled away.

“What, what are you doing? Like, obviously you’re kissing me but why? You just got confused because of the quirk and mistook me for the girl you have feelings for.”

He looked at you quizzically.

“I didn’t confuse you for anyone.”

What? Oh. Oh. Your eyes widened in realization as you stared at him.

“Oh. Ok. So, uh, you like me, and I um, I like you too, fyi, but uh why? And also, why did the quirk make you want to take a nap with me?”

“I have a confession.” He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “The quirk wore off while Kaminari was on the phone with Bakugou.”

You gaped at him while you did a quick mental calculation. Hold up. That meant-

“You were back to normal when you manhandled me into taking a nap with you!!

He just gave a completely unabashed look, nodding his head. You-he-! You couldn't believe him.

“So you pretended the quirk was still affecting you, and used it as an excuse to cuddle with me?”

Again, a nod, not even a hint of remorse on his gorgeous face. Wow. He was completely unabashed. Evidently tired of this line of conversation, he leaned in and resumed kissing you. And you let him, because fuck this, you could talk about your mutual feelings and his shameless behavior later.

After he finished kissing you senseless.

#lee's brain writes #todoroki x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #fluff #bhna x reader #bhna fanfic #shouto x afab reader #todoroki x female reader

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celtic-crossbow · 9 months

Text

I’m Your Fatal Sin

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Setting: Prison Era

Warnings: Typical TWD violence, descriptions of injuries

Summary: Daryl doesn’t like you going outside the safety of the prison.

Prompt: “I will leave now, or I’m going to say things I will regret later.” (Had to write in Daryl speak but it’s the same thing!)

A/N: Second request by @alldevilsarehere90. I took so long writing the first one that I did the second they asked for…and took equally as long. Apparently, “drabble” is not a word I’m familiar with and I should just call these novels. The prompt is waaaay up in the beginning but I just kept going. Sorry again, my friend! Also, I have not had this checked for errors and my brain is too tired tonight. I’ll go over and fix stuff tomorrow…. Because no beta, we die like men.

You watched him pace the length of the room, fingertips rubbing roughly at his temples as if he was fighting off a headache. That would be you, Y/N. You thought, biting back a chuckle. Your group had arrived back at the prison, battered, bruised, and bleeding but hearts still beating. You counted that as a win.

Daryl was not so easily mollified.

He had stayed behind on this run, having only returned from hunting just as your group was heading out. He wasn’t happy that you were going out without him. It was all so amusing to you, personally. When the two of you had first met back at the quarry, you had taken one of the squirrels he had brought back, held it by the tail, and smacked him upside the head with it after he had said something particularly offensive. It was even funnier that you couldn’t remember now what it was that he had said. Regardless, he had retaliated by soaking you in the blood he drained from the rodent he had been skinning. Even in his anger back then, you had caught the look in his eye.

You weren’t afraid of him.

Your friendship started then and there. You spent more time in the Dixon camp than you had with your own boyfriend. That had not gone over well. Mark was the younger brother of one of Ed Peletier’s friends. The moment Daryl had found you doing laundry and saw the shiner you sported, you were given your own small tent next to his and Merle’s. When the perpetrator had come looking for you, the Dixon brothers had formed an immovable wall in front of you.

You still weren’t sure if Mark had been killed by a walker like Merle had said.

Regardless, you were free. Daryl took you under his wing, teaching you to hunt and defend yourself. When he had finally handed you his beloved crossbow, you had laughed and asked if you needed to buy her dinner before squeezing her trigger.

“Stop.” Daryl had huffed, amusement gleaming in those blue eyes.

You had been out with the younger brother when Merle had been left abandoned. While you were angry, you knew how belligerent the man could be, so Rick’s explanation hadn’t seemed too far fetched to you. You went with the group to try and bring him home. You had taken the brunt of Daryl’s verbal aggression with grace, knowing he was in pain. He would never hurt you. That much you knew. When emotions were running high, Daryl floundered and would try to escape them by any means necessary. Even if that meant bucking against someone he cared about.

Still, you stayed.

Months had passed. You didn’t even try to keep up with that anymore, focusing more on the change of the seasons. It felt less like losing something if you only changed your perspective. The group became a family. You had lost the farm and wandered throughout the winter before finding the prison that was your home now.

You and Daryl had remained steadfast, but he continued to open up, bit by bit. First with Carol, then with Rick. Him coming out of his shell made you happy, watching him become more and more comfortable with the others. You’d be lying, though, if you said you didn’t worry about being replaced.

Then, after choosing the cells you all would call your rooms, you came back from your first shower to find the mattress missing from the one you had selected. Daryl was sitting on the top step that led down to the lower level, waiting for you.

“Did you take my mattress, Dixon?”

“Yep.” So nonchalant, like you had just asked if the sky was blue.

“You gonna tell me why?” You pressed, kicking his hip gently with the toe of your boot.

“Ya stay where I can keep a eye on ya.” He shrugged, continuing to fiddle with his crossbow.

“What if I wanted my own space, huh?” You sat next to him and bumped your shoulder into his.

“Cell ain’t goin’ nowhere. S’there if ya need it.”

You never seemed to need it, perfectly content on sharing his perch with him. You had brought things back from runs; books, pictures, and little what-nots that now decorated the area. He never complained beyond the occasional scoff or eyeroll.

And time marched on. Your role in the group was just as vital as anyone else now. You took watches, went on runs, and helped clear the fence. You lost sleep, gave up your portions of the rations to make sure everyone else stayed fed, and you sustained injuries. You weren’t afraid to get your hands dirty for the good of your family.

Which is exactly why you were now perched on one of the tables in the cafeteria, watching Daryl pace a hole into the concrete floor.

“No one died, Dixon.” You leaned back with your palms pressed against the table, collected demeanor the polar opposite of his pulsing anxiety.

“Ya coulda, though, Y/N!” The man snapped, his longer hair shifting to cover his face when he spun to look at you.

“Calm down before you have a stroke.” You mused with a smile.

“Can ya be serious for five fuckin’ seconds?”

You could have sworn you saw smoke boiling out of his ears. Damn, he was mad. “I am.” You sat up straight with your best attempt at stoicism. “Stress can absolutely trigger a stroke and—” You had started laughing while he stomped over to you and grabbed your shoulders.

“Stop, goddamnit!”

“Okay, okay.” You patted his forearm and willed yourself to choke back the amusement. “We’re all fine, Daryl.” Lips pressed into a thin line, he gave you a nod, one that continued even as he released your left shoulder to roughly flick the bandage on your thigh that concealed a deep cut Hershel had earlier stitched. You were taken aback, eyes widening at the tendrils of pain that snaked out from the tender wound. “Ow.” You deadpanned.

“Coulda been a lot worse, Y/N.” He seemed calmer now but his gaze was still intense, shoulders high and nostrils flaring.

“I know that!” You finally snapped back, twisting around until he let you go altogether and stepped out of your space. “Christ, Daryl, I could die just going to piss! I know how dangerous the things we have to do are!” You hated arguing with him but sometimes, brandishing your own anger was the only way to get through to him. He watched you, obviously chewing on the inside of his cheek before he brought his thumb up to inflict the same abuse.

“Nah, not you. Not anymore.” He shook his head and started to walk away.

“What the—” Pain radiated through your leg when you hastily hopped down a little too roughly in your attempt to keep up with him. “What’s that supposed to mean? Daryl? Daryl!” When he made it clear he had no intention of stopping, you had to sprint to cut him off at the door, pressing your palms against his chest to force him to a halt. “Where are you going? What did you mean?”

“M’tellin’ Rick ya ain’t goin’ out there no more.”

Your eyebrows shot up, mouth falling open. “Excuse me?”

“Ya heard me, Y/N.” He made to step around you but you moved with him. “Go get offa that leg.” He ordered in an attempt to persuade you into relenting. He knew better.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Who the hell are you to say where I can and can’t go?” You seethed. Now it was you who was fuming and pacing, though it wasn’t as intimidating with your profound limp. Daryl crossed his arms and squared his shoulders. You suddenly wanted to punch him square in the nose.

“Ya ain’t got no business out there. Ya can do plenty here to help.”

“Says the man that goes off hunting alone every other day!” You hissed. Your fists were clenched at your sides.

“That’s diff’rent.”

“Oh, please, enlighten me. This I’ve just got to hear.” You laughed emptily and mimicked his stance.

“Ya just ain’t goin’ and that’s that.” When you moved to cut him off again, he was ready. His arm caught you at the chest and kept you from crossing in front of him.

“Goddamnit, Daryl! This isn’t your decision!” You yelled, trailing after him once again. You grabbed his wrist but he shook you off. “I want to help!”

“Ya can help here!” He shot back without looking at you.

“Would you just stop?!”

“Nah.”

“Why the fuck do you even care?!”

That stopped him in his tracks, nearly making you crash into his back. His fists were clenching and unclenching at his sides, his posture radiating with tension. He turned his head to the side and focused on something, anything but you, speaking to you over his shoulder. Somehow, this made you more nervous than his livid pacing.

“Ya even hafta ask?” You didn’t respond, utterly confused. The archer gave you more time than necessary but when you remained silent, he shook his head and changed course, heading outdoors instead of to the cell blocks. “Do whatever ya want.”

Your anger dissipated. “Daryl, wait. Where are you going?”

“M’leavin’ now or I’ma say things I’ll regret later.”

You called his name again but the only reply was the slam of the heavy metal door.

Your search for him didn’t last long. You knew better than anyone that there was no finding Daryl when he didn’t want to be found. In his absence, you did the only thing you could do: sulk.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Carol queried, adjusting the basket of laundry on her hip after she stopped by the picnic table you had been perched at for the last 3 hours. Your only response was a heavy sigh. “Staring at the woods won’t make him come back any faster.” Your head shot up to reveal her knowing smile. Aside from you, Carol was the only other person to even relatively understand the younger Dixon. “What’d you argue about?” The silver-haired woman deposited the laundry on the table and took a seat across from you.

“He doesn’t want me to go on runs anymore.” A quiet reply while you toyed with some twine you had been using to hang up things around your space inside.

“And that bothers you?”

“Of course it does!” You snapped before quickly muttering an apology, though Carol didn’t seem affected. “It feels like he doesn’t trust me.”

“You know that’s bullshit.” Your mouth dropped open in disbelief. To your recollection, you had never before heard the woman utter even a syllable of a curse. She, of course, only offered a cheeky grin. “What? You think I can hang around you two and not pick up something?”

“Touché.” You nodded.

“Listen, Y/N,” she started and took your hand, “Daryl cares about you, more than he lets on.” She wouldn’t mention all the times he had come to her with questions. How he would mumble and blush when trying to figure something out to make you happy. How he would actively look for at least one thing to bring back for you from a run. “I think you should try to see this from his perspective.” Just like she had told him to see it from yours. “I think then you may be able to compromise, yeah?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll think it over. Thanks, Carol.”

“Good.” The woman stood and grabbed up the basket. “Besides, you’re both insufferable when you’re fighting.” You reached out to give her a playful shove as she walked by and then patted the hand she laid briefly on your shoulder.

She was right. You didn’t want to keep fighting with Daryl. It made you both (and apparently everyone else) miserable. You’d have to come up with something in the middle.

The sky had faded to a pale lavender with the orange hue of the setting sun peeking over the trees. It was getting late and Daryl hadn’t returned. Your fingertips were sore from drumming on the table. Just as you stood with the intent to grab a weapon and go after him, a silhouette emerged from the treeline. There was a distinct outline of a crossbow on their back. The relief was immense and had you sinking back down onto the bench with your hand clutching the front of your shirt.

Your eyes stayed trained on him as he made his way past the walkers outside and entered the gate that was promptly closed behind him. From a distance, he appeared fine albeit a little dirty. He walked slowly with his head down, but he had been out all day, so you hoped that was nothing more than fatigue. He made it a little closer than you thought he would before he raised his head and his gaze went straight to you.

“Hey.” You offered, standing slowly. He gave you a nod and you thought he may walk on by, but he stopped just shy of the table. “You okay?” Another nod, his eyes seemingly studying your boots. “Look, Daryl—”

“I was wrong.” It came out so quickly that you had to think about it for a moment before you made sense of what he said. “Earlier. Was wrong. Ain’t got no right to tell ya what to do.”

This time, it was you who nodded. “I know why though.” He looked up, blue eyes peering from behind his hair.

“Ya do?”

“Yeah. You want to keep me safe. You care about me.” You smiled, small but genuine. A strange look crossed his face but was gone a moment later. Was that disappointment?

“Right.” He had started to chew on his thumbnail.

Licking your lips nervously, you continued. “I’ll do no more than two runs a week. And only when you’re going too.” You were absolutely certain you caught a ghost of a smile.

“Fair ‘nough.” He was shifting from foot to foot now, thumb still pressed against his lips. You had been so focused on the problem at hand that you hadn’t noticed the anxiety radiating from him in waves. Something was off. This had been too easy.

“Daryl, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Mhm, just—just tired.” His eyes said as much. You placed your hand on his bicep and ushered him along toward the door.

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving!” Had your focus not been ahead, you would have seen the way he only smiled once he looked down at you.

“Got some formula for Lil Asskicker.” Daryl rounded the end of the aisle you were knelt in, displaying the four cans in his pack before closing it up and placing it on his shoulder.

“That’ll last her about 3 days.” You quirked, causing Daryl to snort behind you. “She’s growing like a little weed.” There wasn’t much left in the way of over the counter medications but you had scored some infants Tylenol and gas relief drops, as well as medication for the adults. “The food was pretty picked through. I got a couple of cans of fruit, though!” You placed three more bottles of tylenol in your bag and stood, your knees protesting the movement.

“Y’ready then?” Daryl turned to head to the front of the old store. Glenn and Maggie were set to meet the two of you in the parking lot.

“All set!” You confirmed, adjusting the backpack straps on your shoulders. You jogged to catch up with the archer, bumping into his side while pulling your knife from its sheath. Daryl smirked and ruffled your hair before gently shoving you away. “Pretty good haul, I think. Maybe we could stop by that gas—”

“Sshh.” The bowman had gone rigid, his hand just in front of your mouth. “Ya hear that?” It was faint at first but the closer the two of you moved towards the front of the store, the louder the thumping and moaning became.

“That sounds like an awful lot of walkers, Daryl.” You rounded the broken down checkout lanes to bring the doors into view and felt your stomach drop. The light that should have been filtering through the dusty glass doors was completely snuffed out by the multitude of bodies shuffling past. A glance at the archer found him tense and mirroring your expression. “Glenn and Maggie—” You whispered urgently.

“They’ll wait ‘em out. Ain’t their first rodeo.” He had lowered his crossbow to his side. “Ours neither. Get comfy, girl. Might be here a bit.” He hopped up to sit on one of the conveyors while you walked through one of the other lanes to look at some of the old magazines. From the corner of your eye, you saw a small piece of bright orange peeking out from under the checkout shelf.

“Oh my god!” You shrieked in an enthused whisper.

“What?” Daryl was on his feet, crossbow leveled with his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

You were already on your knees to retrieve the object of your excitement. “Reese’s cups!” You sprang up to your feet, waving the small package around triumphantly.

The archer let the crossbow fall to his side, his face hidden behind his palm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Big word, Dixon. I’m proud.” You bumped him deliberately with your hip as you walked by, hopping up where he had just been perched. The man leaned his weapon against the shelf where the cash register was positioned and sat beside you. You didn’t ask if he wanted the second treat, just handing it over habitually. You always shared with him. He accepted it with a smirk you didn’t see since you were already taking the first bite of the stale candy. “Buttery baby Jesus.” You moaned, eyes rolling back.

Daryl barked a laugh, almost dropping the Reese’s. “M’not sure I wanna know why baby Jesus is buttery.” He was shaking his head when he caught your bewildered expression. “What?” He questioned around the first bite.

“They told me it couldn’t happen. That it was impossible.” You whispered, eyes wide. The look on his face said he was waiting for you to continue. “You… you laughed.”

His expression deadpanned. “Shtop.” He mumbled around the chocolate and peanut butter.

“I’m serious, Dixon. We were all wondering when we would stumble across the reanimated remains of your sense of humor.”

He swallowed and bumped you with his shoulder. “I hate ya.”

“I love you too.” Your lips pressed against his cheek and pulled away just as quickly. The man went rigid, eyes straight forward. You didn’t seem to notice, wandering around the front.

His blue eyes began to follow your movements, the tight feeling in his chest overpowering the butterflies fluttering madly in his stomach. His face was burning all the way to the tips of his ears. No longer hungry, he delicately wrapped the remaining Reese’s cup in its wrapper and put it in his bag to give to you later.

You had knelt down to look through a basket labeled ‘return to stock.’ “Score! Batteries!” You exclaimed, mostly to yourself, and quickly shoved the different sizes into your pack. Behind you, the archer cleared his throat.

“Think they’re gone.” He was motioning toward the door when you turned to acknowledge him.

You twisted to the other side to find nothing but dull light creeping through the glass. “Nice! You ready?”

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

You both shouldered your packs and grabbed your weapons, moving almost silently through the door. Glenn and Maggie had undoubtedly hunkered down as well, so it was anyone’s guess who would arrive first at the meeting spot. Daryl followed behind you, walking backwards to ensure the area you couldn’t see stayed clear.

“I think we’re good. It’s this way. Maybe Glenn and—” You rounded the corner, voice cut off into surprised shriek as two walkers tumbled into you. The back of your head met the concrete with a sickening crack and black spots danced across your vision. There was a loud bang to your left that you couldn’t place. Your body moved almost on autopilot, fumbling for the weapon you had dropped while you held one walker back with your forearm and kicked back the other with your free leg. You could hear Daryl screaming your name above the blood rushing in your ears. “D-Daryl!” You managed around the bile creeping up your throat. What seemed like several minutes later, the weight above you vanished and your gun was thrust into your hands.

“C’mon, girl! Up we go!”

Daryl’s hands were on you, pulling you up haphazardly by your arm. His voice sounded muffled but strained, like he was shouting under water. The world tilted and spun, and you felt an arm tighten around your back that you hadn’t realized was even there. You blinked hard, willing your surroundings to come into focus, but Daryl’s jarring movements were aggravating the already present nausea. Before you could warn him, you listed to your right and retched, the bile burning the back of your throat.

“Shit!”

His voice was a little clearer now, but you must have thrown him off balance. You tumbled down, only barely catching yourself on your palms before you would have smashed face first into the puddle of sick on the asphalt. Daryl crashed into your back a second later but quickly averted his weight so he landed beside you. A string of curses left his mouth as he pushed himself up, your eyes trying to follow him but stopping short on the smear of crimson where he had fallen.

“Daryl, are—are you bleeding?” Am I bleeding? You were being hauled to your feet again, the motion almost too much. Your vision grayed at the edges and you felt a strange tingling in your limbs. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.

“Over here! Hurry!”

Glenn. You had never been so relieved to hear his voice. It was short lived as you felt yourself fading. Your body was shifted again and now the world was upside down, a strong grip pressing into your ribs and the side of your knees. The last thing you saw was the herd of walkers closing in before it all went dark.

You awoke with a start, sitting up halfway before the pounding in your head made its presence known and you fell back with a grunt.

“Easy.”

Daryl. Thank god. You risked opening your eyes, finding him to be looking down at you from straight above. Scenery was flying by just beside his head. You were in the car, your head pillowed on Daryl’s lap. “Glenn? Maggie?” You asked quietly. You didn’t think you were physically capable of talking any louder.

“We’re here, Y/N.” Maggie’s voice came from the front seat. You felt her gentle touch in your arm and you immediately relaxed. You had all made it.

“What happened?” You asked, trying to keep your eyes focused on the archer when they wanted nothing more than to close and let you be dragged back into oblivion.

“Other half’a the herd came down on us. Ya cracked your melon when two’a ‘em took ya down.”

Worry and fatigue laced his voice but as you studied him, you could see the clear indicators of pain. Daryl always hid it well but you knew him better than anyone.

“You hurt?”

He shifted in the seat slightly and winced. “Ya must’a squeezed the trigger when ya went down. Shot me.”

Your eyes blew wide and you were instantly moving, trying to sit up. Your body seemed to disagree with that plan of action. “Where are you hit? How bad is it? Damn it!”

“Whoa! Hold up!” He pulled you back down, calloused finger smoothing the hair away from your face. “M’alright. Got the back’a my leg. Hershel’ll take care’a it.” You stared at him with wide, exhausted eyes. Were you actually lying on his wounded leg?

“I shot you?” You could feel the tears collecting on your lashes, guilt eating away at your insides, colliding with the nausea so hard that it made your vision swim. “I’m so sorry.” Your fingertips found his jaw, barely brushing the prickly hair there before your arm became too heavy to hold up.

“Ya didn’t do it on purpose, Y/N.”

“I would…never…” You suddenly felt exhaustion pulling you under, Daryl’s pleas for you to stay awake fading into white noise as blackness swallowed you up once again.

It had been three days since the run. Two had seen you lying in bed with Hershel doing periodic checks to ensure that the concussion wasn’t something more serious. Daryl had been there too. He would only leave when threatened by Carol, forced to go rest himself. He never stayed gone long. Rick had finally dragged an extra mattress in and placed it in the corner. The archer finally allowed himself to fall asleep and that’s how you found him when you had awoken near the end of day two. Hershel arrived to check your vitals and found you propped up on your elbows, watching Daryl sleep.

“How long has he been there?” You asked quietly. The old man smiled and released your wrist, satisfied with your pulse.

“It’d be easier to tell you when he wasn’t in here.” He mused while shaking two pills from a bottle. The sound didn’t disturb the bowman in the slightest, a testament to his exhaustion. “Take these.”

You trusted the old veterinarian and took the offered medication, just assuming it was for pain. Your eyes never left Daryl. “His leg— did it—will he—”

Hershel patted your own leg and waited for you to finally look at him. He shone a small light in your eyes and smiled again. “He’ll be fine. And so will you. You both just need to rest.”

You nodded and laid your head back on the pillow, turning on your side so you could keep Daryl in your sights. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep. You didn’t hear Hershel leave.

Now, you were perched in the tower. It was the only thing Rick would allow you to do after Hershel released you. The sun had long ago set and the prison was dark and silent, save for the moans of the walkers shuffling around outside the fences. You had learned to tune them out when you were out there, allowing yourself to enjoy the fresh air and the quiet peace the night offered.

“Hey.”

You jerked around with a start, vision swimming only slightly as Daryl came into focus just beside the door leading to the ladder. He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand and chewed on the opposite thumbnail.

“Hi.” You smiled at him but it faded as he limped toward where you sat, hissing as he took a seat next to you. “Still hurts?”

“I’ll live.” He was looking out over the field and into the trees for a moment before turning to you. You avoided his gaze, and you knew he knew. “Ya alright?” You looked back at him and he tapped his finger against his forehead.

“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m feeling much better.” A smile graced your lips once again, not quite reaching your eyes. Daryl nodded, his thumb to his mouth again. “You were right, you know.” His brow creased in confusion but you looked away, finding the treeline before continuing. “I shouldn’t be going out there anymore.”

The archer shook his head and moved his hand back to his lap. “Nah, Y/N. What happened was—”

“My fault.” You nodded resolutely, ignoring the twinge of discomfort it caused. “I wasn’t careful. I was distracted. I shot you.”

“That was a accident.”

“That doesn’t matter, Daryl!” Your voice escalated. The tears stinging your eyes threatened to fall. The walkers beyond the fence zeroed in on the noise and began to gather. The bowman glanced over, assessing the situation. When the fence held the extra weight, he looked back to you, your cheeks now wet before you angrily wiped at them with the back of your hand. “I’m a liability out there. You need someone better to—”

“Hey,” he cut you off, with a hand on your knee, “ya got my back out there. You do.” Daryl ducked down his head, searching for your gaze. “Ya got yer shit together. Y’know what yer doin’ out there. There ain’t no one I trust more. Ya hear me?”

Confusion twisted your expression. You turned to face him, careful that your legs didn’t bump his. “Then why?” You asked with a gentle shake of your head. “Why did you fight me so hard about going out?” You watched several emotions skitter across the archer’s face, but he settled on one: guilt. He scowled deeply, bottom lip caught between his teeth with his gaze anywhere but on you. “Daryl?”

“I, uh—” You saw a spot of blood on his lip before his tongue quickly erased it. “I just—need to know you’re safe.”

He wasn’t making much sense. “If you know I can take care of myself, why are you worried?”

His face began to redden, the color spreading down his neck and up to the tips of his ears. “Damnit, y’know I ain’t no good with words, kid!”

“Obviously. Because I’m not a kid.” You chuckled, your fingertips brushing his cheek before you used your palm to coax his head to turn. He kept his eyes stubbornly downcast, his hand immediately lifting his thumb towards his mouth. You intercepted and gently pushed his hand to his lap, keeping your own over it. “Just say what you mean.”

Daryl swallowed hard, his jaw clenching while he slumped in the chair. You knew where this was headed. He was trying to process something deep; something important. When faced head on with emotions, there was only one thing Daryl could count on: his anger. When his fingers folded into a fist below your hand, you didn’t let him pull away.

“We don’t need to talk about this. Let’s just table it for later, alright?” You smiled gently and moved to turn yourself forward, away from him.

This time, it was him that stopped you from pulling away. “Nah.” When you turned your face back to reassure him things were okay, he met you there. His lips pressed against yours firmly, almost aggressively. This definitely wasn’t something he had planned. Soon enough, the pressure minimized and you were able to react. Your brain was currently short-circuiting but you managed to move your mouth against his, finding a rhythm in the hungry dance.

Of all the things Daryl could “say” to you, this was definitely not on your bingo card for the year. His hands gently held the sides of your neck, calloused fingers sliding up your skin to tangle in your hair. Your own hands found purchase in the front of his vest, using it to keep him close to you; afraid that he would change his mind now that you had accepted his confession. And that’s what this was.

A confession.

Daryl was a man of action, not words. He had been for as long as you had been a part of his life. So this? You could decipher this pretty easily. He cared about you more than a friend. He was willing to be vulnerable with you. He trusted you. He worried about you. He wanted you close by and safe. He loved you. Was he in love with you? That was the only question left. You definitely didn’t mind waiting for the answer as long as he could keep kissing you like this.

You tried to pull back to breathe, but he held fast, tongue licking into your mouth the moment it opened to protest. Drawing a deep breath through your nose, you couldn’t help but let out a content sigh and allow yourself to taste him as well. Tobacco smoke and a hint of spice that you found delicable, craving more as you began to take charge. Releasing his vest, you opened your palms and pressed him against the back of the chair. Your lips never left his, even as the angle changed for you to be standing over him. He had released your hair and settled his palms on your hips as you lowered to straddle his lap.

You had begun to wonder just how far this would go when your full weight settled onto him, and he yelped (in a very manly way, if anyone asked) against your mouth. You pulled back, tripping over his boot and crashing toward the floor. Daryl tried to stop your descent, managing to catch your bicep which led to your hand gripping the front of his vest while your leg was still trapped behind his. You successfully pulled him off the chair, the pair of you meeting the concrete one right after the other.

You laid there for a moment, stunned and assessing the situation. When your eyes met Daryl’s wide blue gaze, you couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. The entire prison could probably hear you but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Especially when you heard the brief chuckle from beside you.

“Great first kiss, Dixon.” You let your head gingerly fall back, the stitched wound beneath your hair still tender. “Top notch.”

“Shut up.” There was no heat behind the words. In fact, he sounded rather relaxed. “First, huh?”

You grinned at the stars, wondering how red his face would be if you chose to look at him at that moment. “Of many.”

He hummed in reply. You started to rethink your words, worried that you were putting too much pressure on him, but then you felt his finger brush over the back of your hand. He didn’t do more than just press his hand against yours but allowed you to wrap your index finger around his. For several moments, the two of you laid there, silent but comfortable in it.

“I’m still on watch.” You finally said, already missing his touch when he moved his hand away. “I guess I should be, you know, watching.”

“Mhmm.” He replied. You turned your head to watch him struggle to his feet, hurrying to get up yourself to steady him. Once he found his balance, you let go and took a deep breath. You didn’t want this moment to end.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“‘Course.” He gave you a look that meant you should have known the answer already.

“Night, Daryl.” You plopped back down onto your chair and looked out through your binoculars while you waited to hear the door close. When it didn’t, you turned to find him still standing a few feet away.

“You, uh—if ya want some company, I could—y’know, stay.” He was blushing again, rubbing the back of his neck like he had when he’d first arrived earlier. You’d never tell him how adorable he looked. He’d likely murder you in your sleep. So, you smiled and nodded before patting the other chair.

“Yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.” As he limped back over, you felt a warmth rise and settle in your chest, one you hadn’t felt since before the world ended. Actually, this was new. This was different. This was the beginning of something. Something beautiful born out of darkness and death. Something you’d fight like hell to hold onto.

And you’d never have to fight alone.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead #Spotify

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artiststarme · 3 months

Text

There is literally nothing that Eddie hated more than snowstorms. The snow always matted his hair, he got cold way too easily, and his ungraceful ass always slipped on ice. He absolutely despised the Midwestern winter and how much snow Hawkins got during the colder months. It was ridiculous having to wake up to ten inches of snow outside his window that he had to shovel off his and his neighbor's driveways and scrape off the cracked windshield of the van. What he wouldn’t give to be able to hibernate for four months to escape the entirety of the cold.

But Steve loved winter. He loved the mystical view of the soft snowflakes falling from the sky, playing hockey on the thick ice of the local pond, and curling up beside the frosty window with a hot chocolate in hand. He even liked the snowstorms that everyone else found dreadful, the thick snow that made the Beemer slip and fishtail.

When Steve and Eddie spent their first winter as a couple together, they had to make a lot of compromises. Steve had to turn his gloriously cool house into a steaming sauna for Eddie to spend the night there, still wrapped in multiple layers and a duvet while Steve sweated to death in basketball shorts and crew socks. Eddie had to mosey on over to the pond to “skate” with Steve, i.e. slip and flounder on the ice while Steve skated and watched him pout like a grumpy cat. And the kids had to watch the disgusting view of Eddie snuggling way too close to Steve underneath his winter coat to leech warmth from him. Compromise!

#Eddie usually wins the arguments but 'compromises' every once in awhile #Steve doesn't mind as long as Eddie is happy #(and Wayne bribes him with his famous homemade chili)#Wayne doesn't mind bribing the kid with home cooked meals as long as he keeps his nephew from complaining about the cold to him #it is literally -10 degrees here right now and I am freezing #I don't like it and I can't imagine Eddie would either.#stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson

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writingforrhys · 1 year

Note

cassian is so hunky

you've caught me at a wonderful time cause i'm in such a cassie mood

Blistering

cassian x reader contents: SO MUCH PINING and a good amount of suggestiveness

masterlist

It was hot. So, so hot.

Despite living in the definition of the North of Prythian, the heat was blistering. The summer heat was relentless for the most part, yet the sun beams reflecting off of the tall peaks of the mountains made it impossible to think straight.

At least that's what you were convincing yourself.

The condensation from your bottle of water dripped down your fingers as you stood rigid next to the training mat. Much to your chagrin, your family had decided the night before over a bottle of wine, obviously, that a collective early morning training session was long overdue.

Yes, you could admit, you always had fun with them. There wasn't anything in your life that could compare to spending time with your family and, on the rare occasion that you could catch them all in one space, you savoured their company. But right here, right now? As the sweat rolled down your brow and your clothes clung to every patch of skin it could, you wanted to be anywhere but this blistering roof.

Well, now with your gaze upon the General, you could admit that this was a blessing in disguise. He was magnificent.

His back muscles rippled gorgeously in the sun, his arms flexing to and fro as he sparred with Azriel. He was quick and nimble, despite his giant stature; he knew exactly what to do with himself, dodging Azriel's attacks expertly. Your stare focussed on the damp hair sticking to his neck, the half-up do he'd put together now coming apart and framing his beautiful, beautiful face.

Oh, how you wanted him. You'd wanted him for three centuries. He was undoubtedly the most handsome male you'd ever met, and he was kind too. So kind, so generous, so funny, and so hot.

Every touch from him set your body on fire. You savoured every laugh you could draw from him, or every time you shared a private glance across a room. It was your life's mission to make him smile, to have that deep vibrato ripple from his chest as he put his shiny canines on show.

You'd always been close. Connected. When you first met the Inner Circle, you were immediately drawn to him. He intimidated most with his height, build, and domineering demeanour; but not you. No, to you he was a spectacle. He was a steaming cup of tea on a winter's day; yet he was also the cold nipping at your nose when the snow had begun to fall.

He was balance, he was harmony.

"You okay there, dreamer?" A snicker.

"Oh, give her a break, Rhys. She can't help that she's hopelessly infatuated."

You broke your stare from Cassian's silhouette, your face now a flushed maroon, "The two of you are incorrigible."

Rhysand and Feyre chuckled amongst themselves, and then his arm wrapped delicately around her waist. You could only burn in jealously watching the movement; the only time Cassian's arms were around you that way was in your imagination, just before you were waking up with a warmth at your core.

"Do you ever work out up here or do you just stare pathetically at him?"

"Rhys!" Feyre's jaw dropped.

"What?" He released a hearty laugh, "It's been three hundred years of watching her pine, Feyre darling. You haven't run out of patience like I have."

You floundered for a response, mouth opening and closing, then settled on turning your back to them and filling your water bottle.

Then, finally, "He doesn't feel that way. It's easier to stare from a distance than embarrass myself horrifically."

You could almost hear Feyre's eyes soften behind you. She was far more sympathetic towards you than her mate, having held you on the many nights you'd cried over the male, that he'd never love you like you loved him.

"Well with the way he's staring holes into your ass right now, I'd have to disagree."

You'd never turned faster.

The High Lord was right, he was staring straight at your ass. Well, now he was dragging that look all the way up your body, gliding over your curves until he met you eye to eye. He didn't look away. A smirk planted on his lips as your stares connected and he shook his head fondly. You panicked as his legs began to wander to you as he unwrapped his fists.

You turned to find salvation in your friends, but found the both of them halfway out of the door already, Azriel hot on their heels. The only remaining comfort of their presence was the wink that Rhysand sent your way as they left.

"Hi, beautiful."

What?

"Are you alright, honey?"

You were quite alright. He was blocking out the sun with his body and the only thing you could see was his ridiculously sculpted torso in your immediate vision.

You blinked the shock out of your eyes, finally allowing your head to move and look at him.

"I'm, uh, I'm okay, Cassie. You good?" Nice one.

"I'm okay," He laughed, "I just can't help but notice how distracted you are this morning."

Gods, he was so sexy.

"Distracted? Me?" You giggled nervously, "Not a clue what you mean."

"No?" His hand reached to brush the hair away that had fallen in front of your face, his scent filling every air pocket around you as he leaned closer. Your legs had never clenched harder.

"Azriel's shadows couldn't help but report to him how absentminded you've been recently. It made him quite concerned." HIs brows had pulled together, but you saw the teasing look he was sparing you.

"That's just Az being a busybody. Guess he's got nothing to do."

He hummed.

He reached even further behind you, as if that were possible, and pulled back with his own water in hand. You knew he could hear the beating of your heart, the blood pumping around your body as if you'd run to Spring and back. The bastard was doing it on purpose.

"I'm sure. Although, I have been thinking..."

"Don't hurt yourself."

"I've been thinking," He scoffed, "That you can't seem to think straight lately. Actually, I did think that until I spoke to Mor, and she said you've never been more at the top of your game."

Fuck.

"...So, why is it that when you're with me, you're so ruffled?"

You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what to do. You'd been caught. Three hundred years of keeping this secret, and you'd fucked it up. This could very well be the end of your friendship with Cassian. He'd grow distant and he'd avoid you, not wanting to give you the wrong impression that you could ever be anything more. You'd have to move out, not able to face the humiliation of such a harsh rejection. You'd lose your life. You'd lose your family.

"There you go again. Disappearing." His hand came up to rest on your cheek, thumb grazing delicately along the blazing skin. His eyes seemed understanding, but you couldn't help imagining your worst fear coming to life.

"You shouldn't flatter yourself, Cassian. It's unbecoming."

"I've been flattering myself for centuries, my love; trying to convince myself that a bastard like me was good enough for a female like you."

You froze. Your eyes didn't stray from his. Was this really happening?

"Tell me to walk away. Tell me to step back and we'll never speak of this again." His face had nudged toward yours ever so slightly, a silent question hanging in the air.

"I can't," You panted, "Please don't."

The General didn't need another push. Your drinks clattered to the floor as his lips collided with yours in a fury, a long over-due cauldron finally boiling over. He was fast and forward, hands gliding from your face down your body and around your waist, grabbing everything they could. Your own hands gripped onto his arms desperately, doing anything to stop yourself from toppling over.

This was everything you'd ever dreamed of. No, it was better.

This was better than the scandalous books you'd read secretly in the library, imagining it was Cassian with his face between your thighs, rather than the hero. This was better than the nights you lay awake with nothing to do but stare at your ceiling as you fantasised about his eyes and his mouth and his hands. And it was only a kiss.

"Cassie," You murmured against his lips.

"Yeah?" He didn't relent.

"Take me to your room."

He pulled back, a wickedness in his features that sent ripples along your skin.

“You better savour your ability to speak. Once I’m done with you, it’ll be long gone.”

“You better savour your ability to speak, because once I’m done with you, it’ll be long gone.”

“You better savour your ability to speak. Once I’m done with you, it’ll be long gone.”

"You better savour your ability to speak, because once I'm done with you, it'll be long gone."

#this was so much longer than i intended #i only wrote this so i didn't have to do uni work #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #cassian imagine #cassian smut #cassian fluff #rhysand #rhysand acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #cassian x you #azriel shadowsinger #feyre #cassian angst

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multiwreckedmess · 28 days

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February Filth Fest Day 28

Prompt: Mommy Pairing: Neighbor!Wooyoung x older!reader WC: 4k Summary: To Wooyoung, you were everything. You didn’t even know he existed. Older and audacity turned to maximum, he’s determined to make you never forget.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Wooyoung or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. By clicking the “Read More” you agree that you are of age to interact with my works.

TW//CW: TBH THIS IS MOSTLY PROLOGUE. Reader called ‘mommy’ and doesn’t like it at first, wooyoung is desperate, age gap undefined (it’s not suggested that it’s HUGE but it’s there). oral (fem receiving). CLIFFHANGER END

“You remember Wooyoung right? Youngie?” Your mom tugs you over to a young man, black hair half back in a ponytail, orange shirt just slightly too unbuttoned, kicking back a beer. “Aw mom! I can see in her eyes she doesn’t!” Wooyoung’s eyes crinkle as he extends his hand to you. Your eyebrows raise. Mom? Grabbing his hand you shake it tentatively. Strong muscular fingers grip back, fitting your hand fully in his warm palm. Your mother doesn’t let the silence linger long, mercifully. “Our Wooyoungie has been taking such good care of us while you’ve been off making your own little homestead on the coast!” “Now you’re speaking far too highly of me. You feed me just as good as well. It’s an exchange of labor for services.” He gloats, swatting lightly at the air in front of himself as if the words praising him still hung there. “You eat so well it's always a joy to share, besides, it helps me get through the leftovers.” She lightly ribs you, trying to get you to join into the conversation.

To be honest, you felt guilty. The only child setting out into the world by moving as far away as you could while staying within the continental United States. You’d intended to see your parents more but the realities of limited vacation time and cost of travel hit quickly. The pandemic years certainly hadn’t helped. If anything they prevented you from establishing a normal visiting schedule and left you floundering to fit them in between projects and personal days. You’d finally been able to decide on the yearly block party, held every summer, to make your grand return. Calling up old friends and arranging it this way ensured you’d see most if not all the folks on your obligations list. However, seeing your mom smiling so fondly at this kid, almost more proud of him than she seemed of you, made your stomach turn. The beast of jealousy churning a pot inside of you. You barely track the rest of their pleasantries, simply watching their borderline flirtatious body language as you nurse your beer.

“I’ll leave you two to catch up! I swear Wooyoungie has told me so many cute stories of you, I can’t believe you don’t remember him.” Elbowing your arm gently your mom hisses, “play nice, he’s a gem!” Wooyoung tilts his chin up and out, craning to receive a kiss on the cheek from her as you stare. “So, you and my parents are close,” your lips curl, tiptoeing slowly into the shallow end of the conversation. “Oh yeah! Well, I started shoveling their walk in the winters and salting the sidewalk which they seemed to really appreciate. So, Mom invited me to dinner after one particularly bad snowfall and I’ve been keeping them company when I can ever since.” “Mhm,” you hum shortly, suspicious of him. “Well you haven’t murdered them yet.” Wooyoung cackles, “do I really look like a killer?” “Isn’t that what all the witnesses in crime series say? That the murderer didn’t seem like the kind of person to do it.” His eyes flit down from your head to your toes. Wooyoung had always been a cute kid. Charming, sweet, a little spicy, but his good nature charmed the neighborhood. Or at least the adults of the neighborhood. He always got along better with adults. The kids of the neighborhood were less enchanted. They called him a suck up, kiss ass, brat, annoying, and worse all in the name of envy. Envy for how the adults loved him and took care of him. So many neighborhood nights out ended in tears for him, maybe it was good you didn’t recall those days. He shook his head with a smile. “Still I’m a little upset you don’t remember me.”

***********

“Hey, some of the ‘big kids’ are heading up to the local bar!” A girl named Gina tugs at your sleeve. The street lights flickering on and only the young and unaccompanied left at the party it was a natural progression of the night. A quick four block walk from your home you shrugged, it wasn’t like you held any particular affection for anyone in particular but it also wasn’t an arduous trek. Besides, this is what you came home for, right? Socialize with the ones who knew you before you knew yourself.

That's how you ended up drinking a gin and tonic at the back of the bar, letting the wash of noise and alcohol blur your nerves. You’d selected gin and tonic out of habit more than anything, the tap list overwhelming and no cocktail menu to be found. A safe bet, difficult to fuck up too badly. Laughing congenially along to the stories retold by friends, you feel lost in the crowd. Stories that went like “oh remember when Ricky did this” or “Cassy has a funny story about when Hunter lost his tooth” which you didn't remember, why would you? Not to say you shared no memories, just that most of them were the aftermath rather than the incident. Always too buried in your books to notice the hijinx happening. Now burying your nose in your glass you nod along to save face. Yes, you were there but somehow also not.

“So you remember all of this but not me?” Wooyoung slides along your side. Some form of brownish liquor in his hand. “No, it’s called being politely interested.” “Ahhh,” he grins and sips his drink. “I’ll note that, the politely bit. I’m already interested so I think I’m good there...” You roll your eyes, “interested in my mom.” “Your mother is a beautiful lady. And smart. And kind. Why shouldn’t I be interested?” He knows he’s being cheeky but part of it is payback for your memory lapse. “Don’t you love your mommy?” The word mommy hits you like a truck. Rolling up your spine and crashing through your skull with the force of a brick to the back of the head. “Wooyoung? Oh my god. Wooyoung.” You mutter, shocked, dismayed. It’s him. It’s definitely him alright. Wooyoung grins like a jackal in front of you, gnawing on the small plastic swizzler straw in his drink. “I know you.” “Do you?”

Thirteen. That’s how old you were when you went to your last neighborhood block party. It was the last summer you spent preoccupied with fictional boys instead of real ones. There was already a change in the air, all the neighborhood kids seemed just so much younger than despite the difference being only a couple of years. Watching them rough house and play from afar you’d been set out with ‘eldest’ duties so that the parents could absolve themselves of direct supervisory responsibilities. Which was fine to you, you’d be tipped generously at the end of the night by the parents without needing to do too much. Suddenly two small arms encircled your legs, an equally small face buried in your pant leg, absolutely wailing for mommy. Tapping on the black mop of hair, red eyes and a runny nose looked back up at you and upon seeing your face cried harder. Prying your legs from his arms you lean down to meet his eye level, “can we go find her? Your mom?” He sniffs and nods, lower lip quivering. “Jung Wooyoung,” his small voice tremors. Taking his small fist in your hand, you lead him farther into the party. It doesn’t take long to find her, gathered in a small circle of moms, laughing jovially. Her smile fades as she sees you toting her son, face red and puffy. “Should he be in trouble or someone else be in trouble?” She’s very brief in her assessment, half exasperated half sympathetic. “I’m sorry I’m not sure Mrs. Jung. He just ran up to me like this asking for you.” Squatting next to her son you notice, she has the exact same wash of jeans as you. “Jung Wooyoung, can you tell me what happened?” The boy glances up at you, eyes wide, sitting on the pavement with a hard plop. “Jung. Woo. Young. Your mom is asking a question.” He notices you notice him staring and he hides his eyes. “I’m so sorry miss, I can take care of him from here. He really likes pretty girls but gets so shy around them. You can go!” Mrs. Jung looks apologetically at you, scooping Wooyoung up onto her hip. Smiling you look him in the eye and wave, watching as he smiles back shyly and buries his face.

“You were such a cute kid!” You coo. “Is that really all you remember about me? Cute little kid? Damn.” This was not exactly the reaction he was looking for. Wooyoung wanted the gasp and the dramatic reveal, of course, but being called cute was not the highest adjective on his list. And only one fleeting memory of his mother calling you a pretty girl. His mother was incorrect though, you weren’t just a pretty girl to him, you were an angel. He was immediately obsessed, watching you silently with flutters in his stomach listening as the adults talked about your achievements. Not only kind and beautiful but smart and self sufficient and bold and fierce. He remembered one of your summers back from college, reading on the front lawn in a bikini, waiting for the sun to slowly turn you a pleasant golden shade. Only briefly passing by on his bike the image seared itself into his mind, fueling his late nights as he flipped through your instagram. “I really thought the world of you,” he muses. “And what about now?” You ask with a laugh and a grimace. Wooyoung looks you up and down. “I could ask the same to you, you said I was a cute kid. What about now?” “Oh come on, you have to know this is a touchy subject for me…you can’t just say that you thought the world of a person in the past tense like that. What, I must be some washed up hag, desperate in her neighborhood bar.” Wooyoung hums, smirking, “well now i don’t agree with the hag part but I like the desperate, desperate i can work with.” He gently takes your drink and swills the dregs. “Another of the same?” “I want whatever you got. Order me that.” His eyebrows shoot up, “oh come on. You’re the older one, you should treat me.” He smiles sweetly and bats his lashes. “I’ll come with you so you know what to order next time.” You roll your eyes. He’s really too cute for his own good. Your heart sinks a little. He’s really too cute to be hanging around you like he is. But you take his glass with yours and slide them across the wood top bar. “Two whiskeys, on the rocks!” Wooyoung flashes his winning smile, “on her tab please.” He finishes with a head tilt in your direction and a wink. “You’re such a baby.” “Only for you mommy.” He bunts the top of his head into your arm as you blanch at the sudden endearment.

You hate it on instinct. You’re not his mommy, yes you’re older but you're not his mommy. You’re not anyone’s mommy. You don’t want to mother anyone for any reason. You wanted that care and attention. Still, you don’t correct him and let him continue to press his side to yours. The pressure of contact from another person is nice, even momentarily.

“So,” Wooyoung sips gingerly at his drink, “tell me what you think of me now. I can’t settle for being a formerly cute baby. I won’t.” He pouts, lilting his head. With a heavy sigh you look him up and down, simple fitted black t-shirt, tight black pants, and moto-boots. “If I were closer to your age-” “EH!” He shushes you abruptly, finger to your lips. “It’s not about you. Tell me about me.” “Fine. You want to hear you’re attractive? You’re attractive,” you give him an exasperated glance. The heat of the alcohol warms the sides of your face, making you feel giggly. The whiskey goes down shockingly easily, loosening your inhibitions. “What about me? I’m the one in distress.” Wooyoung steadies you, bringing awareness to your swaying, letting you lean back against the wall slowly with the support of his hand. “I think you’re the first woman I ever worshipped and now I want to make good on that.” “Wooyoung, are you coming onto me?” You as incredulously, eyebrows almost launching themselves from your face with the speed they raise at. “I’d very much like to if you’d let me.” “You’d like to what exactly?” “Cum on you. Or in you. Whichever you’ll let me.” His forwardness leaves you gagging on unspoken words. You think for a second you ought to slap him as you see red around his smug smile. “Wooyoung do you hear yourself?” Wooyoung slides his hand up, leaning into you on his elbow. He smells like earth and spice and alcohol. “I think you’d like it too. Not to brag but, I think I’m better than spending the rest of the night in your old twin bed with your decade old back massager.” Stunned by his too all too accurate prediction of your plans your brain barely processes the way you lean into his light kiss on the cheek. Your face feels warm, he is warm. And soft, so soft. His brashness has you melting a little bit, there is no halfway here. No room for interpretation. He wants you, and it makes your stomach flutter and legs turn to jelly. “So, wanna get out of here?” Wooyoung says with a small smirk, eyes downcast sheepishly. “If we get to my place and you wanna back out I’ll happily sleep on the couch with the cat. I just don’t want either of us to be alone tonight.” Tender heartstrings plucked expertly by a master songsmith, you sigh. Foolish. Stupid. Irresponsible. What would your parents think when you didn’t come home? Your head shakes as you type out a short text to your mother, a sentence excuse about staying the night with Gina. Or was it Gia? The keyboard swims under your thumb. The rest of you melts and lets the younger man wrap his arm around your waist to guide you safely to a cab. Again you marvel at how warm he is, how his fingers splay casually in the divot of your waist. Cheeks burning you duck your head out of the bar, as though it would be shameful to be seen with him.

Wooyoung kisses with the desperation of a starved man, drinking in as much of you as he possibly can before coming up for air. The electric lock on the door has barely even finished latching when his arms snake around your waist, lips attaching to the nape of your neck. “You smell so good,” his face is smashed into your shoulder, the both of you stumble and struggle to remove shoes as he further tangles himself in you. The second you're free of them he’s turning you, pressing your back into the wall as his leg slots easily between your thighs. Winding your hips together you teeter on your tip toe as he kisses you, teeth tugging at your bottom lip lightly. “Ooh mommy, I’m going to make you remember me-” he moans into your open mouth. A burst of air comes through your nose as you suppress part of an awkward laugh, “Mommy?” “Yeah, your baby’s gonna take good care of you.” His mouth stretches into a grin against your cheek, nose bumping against you until your head falls to the side, granting access to your throat. “Right mommy? I’m taking good care of you right?” Teeth nibbling a searing trail to your shoulder, you can’t help but moan. You don’t hate it. Your mind hates it but your body loves it. His insistent desperation for approval from you is almost as intoxicating as the drinks you’d shared. “This mommy shit is weird Wooyoungie.” Wooyoung sucks a bruising spot into your collarbone, skin immediately flushing, meant to leave a mark. Shivering you moan again, letting your head fall to your opposite shoulder, grinding your hips against him. “That’s not a nice thing to say mommy,” his grip on your ass tightens. His hands pull you down to him, pressure in your gut building. “Fuck! Oh baby-” the phrase slides from your lips before you can pause and overthink what this might say about you. “Yeah, is your baby making you feel good?” He tenderly kisses over the growing bruise. “Wanna be mommy now?” “Fuck-Wooyoungie-you’re fucking incorrigible,” you groan. Between the alcohol and the pounding in your gut, you really don’t mind it. Silencing the small critic and setting that voice in time out, you slide to his bedroom, stripping bear besides your undergarments.

“Damn mommy, you’re a walking wet dream,” Wooyoung looks at you from under his bangs, making a home for himself at your feet, waiting for the word to dive in. Eyes traveling up your legs to the crevice between them, he can barely wait longer. He’s been waiting since puberty. The hunger to prove himself to make you his, growing all the more as your life proceeded without him. His gaze heats you from your core, anticipatory buzz gripping your gut. “Yeah baby?” You practically whisper, throat taut. Slowly but surely his hands travel the tops of your legs, large and warm on your skin. Everything is burning and tingling and on a knife's edge as they stop at your hips, resting his full weight on you. His face comes barely a foot from yours. “Can you tell me how much you want this?” He smiles, Cheshire-like. “I’m fucking aching baby,” you plead maybe just a bit too desperately. “Can you help mommy out?” You can barely finish the sentence before his plush lips are on yours with a bruising amount of force. Eagerly his hands slide between your thighs, tracing the edges of your panties. “Mommy,” he gasps into your open mouth, “are you already this wet?” He teases a thumb over the growing damp spot. Nodding, your legs slide easily for him. “Yeah baby, all for you.” Pressing against your clit more earnestly he rubs in small circles. Your head goes back into the pillows immediately, pressure deliciously building in your core. The skin of his shoulders is cool as he nudges your thighs even wider, his lips replacing his hands. A shock of electricity runs up your spine as you realize he’s pulling your hips down against his face, bridge of his nose nudging you through your panties. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this,” Wooyoung mutters barely loud enough for you to make out. Fingers slipping between your panties and your skin he can barely breathe as he tugs the fabric over your hips. Caught between a fixated stare and a shyly glancing away he pulls down even more, practically cumming in his own underwear as your cunt is finally revealed. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” “That’s not even the pretty part of me,” you feel the heat of embarrassment creep up the side of your neck. Wooyoung looks up at you from between your knees, frowning incredulously. “Every part of my mommy is pretty, especially her cute little cunt.” He says before unceremoniously burying his face in your folds. Licking and slurping like a starved man, you don’t even register the auditory assault, squealing so loudly yourself your head rushes. “Wooyoung! Oh shit! Oh FUCK!” You scream and fist the sheets, fighting your urge to snap your legs around his head. The pleasure twists in your gut as his tongue flicks against your swollen clit, a finger teasing your hole. “Grab my hair-” Wooyoung gasps, “pull my hair. I’m not fragile.” It doesn’t take any more convincing as you tug at his black locks. His lips buzz with moans of approval as you ride his face. His finger crooks inside of you, just enough to press against the top of your walls, right into the squishy spot that blurs your vision and has you seeing stars. “I’m gonna cum, oh fuck baby, I’m gonna-” His face presses more insistently against you, practically drowning himself in your sex. If he was going to die young he’d want to die like this, nestled in your heat. “Do it.” Coating his chin in release your eyes flutter closed. Clamping down around the slight resistance his finger gives. He’s right. Much better than your vibrator. You release him from your grasp as he comes up for air, both of your eyes are hazy with lust as you look at each other.

“Can I suck your tits?” Wooyoung’s blunt tone does nothing to disturb your post orgasmic cloud. “C’mere baby boy,” you say as you slide your bra straps off your shoulders, unclasping the band without a second thought. Wooyoungs eyes bulge as you so easily and carelessly reveal your breasts, half reclined back in his bed, like he’d imagined all those years ago. It’s nothing to you but everything to him. You see them every day and he’d only seen them in his fantasies. He swipes lazily at the arousal still clinging to his lips and chin, transfixed by your tits. Almost reverently he reaches for them both, fingers fanning out over the pair and squishing into them. “Oh mommy,” he says, leaning down to kiss the top of one, “they’re perfect.” “Wooyoungie-” you’re nearly dying of embarrassment, heat flashing through your body as he interrupts you. “They’re just like I imagined.” “Shut up and suck before I regret this,” you laugh, masking your tension beneath brusque humor. Wooyoung doesn’t seem to mind. In fact his eyes practically sparkle as you demand he follow through on his request. Lips encircling your nipple he kisses tenderly at first, hand resting on the opposite breast to make sure it was also attended to. Soft skin in his palm and on his lips, Wooyoung hips move autonomously, rutting against whatever warmth his cock can find. His tongue flicks over your hardened nipple, fingers pinching the other lightly and listening for your moans of approval. Again, he flicks harder, pinches harder, and feels you respond louder and harder as he’d hoped. He keeps escalating until it feels like his heart is going to burst from excitement, leaning into you as he nips at your flesh. Yelping you swat at him playfully, “don’t be a brat!” “Sorry mommy, i just love you so much,” he smiles and nips again. Truthfully the pain feels good, stinging only for a moment before the buzz of endorphins rushes through your spine. “S’okay baby,” you purr and coax him between your thighs, tugging at his underwear. “You’ve made a real mess of these.” “All for you,” he’s breathless as he tosses the ruined pair casually across the room. Leaning close to you again, he kisses you as he rummages under the pillows. You can feel him smile against your mouth as he finds his prize. Pulling away he brandishes a gold foil packet proudly. “A boyscout is always prepared.” “Goddamn, is this just a normal thing for you?” Your heart drops just a little bit disappointed that you might not be special to him. He’s just so smooth, every action carefully planned. “No,” he tears the foil packet with his teeth before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I heard you were going to be in town and I wasn’t going to lose you again.” “You sound obsessed,” you giggle, hands tracing the veins of his lower abdomen as you watch him roll the latex over his length. “Yeah and I’m going to make you just as obsessed about me.”

Sorry, i just don’t know that i wanted to write more of this. I just do NAWT know how to write a mommy kink, it’s not something i’m particularly into which usually doesn’t really stop me when writing but IDK. I liked the beginning but then the mommy stuff felt shoehorned in.

#February Filth Fest #ateez smut #wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #ateez wooyoung smut #atz smut #kpop smut

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a-book-of-creatures · 24 days

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I'm running a tabletop RPG campaign where the characters are interacting with folklore creatures from around the world. Do you have any suggestions? Benevolent, scary, weird...

(please avoid things that are sacred I'm using them in a trpg)

Hrm… have you considered asking @thecreaturecodex ? She knows all about that sort of thing. I wouldn’t know an RPG if it crawled up my legs and bit me in the face.

Creatures from around the world though, that’s not very specific… I can think of some random ones I’ve covered over the years, I guess???

The Vatnagedda (Iceland) or Loch Pike looks like a furry golden flounder that lives in lakes. It is so poisonous that merely touching it is deadly, and a dead one can corrode its way through organic and inorganic matter. In fact even ghosts are afraid of it, and one of those buried at the doorstep of a house will keep them away. It can only be held safely with humanskin or skateskin gloves, and wrapped in human and calf cauls.

The Zankallala (Hausa) is a little gnomish being who has a bee swarm for a hat, a snake for a walking stick, scorpions for spurs, and a jerboa for a mount. It is accompanied by birds who sing about how amazing it is. It can effortlessly kill monsters and protects those attacked by them.

The Colôrobètch (Wallonia) is the personification of the winter wind. It sneaks up on children who haven't bundled up enough and nips at their faces with its beak, leaving red, cracked, painful skin behind.

Haakapainiži (Kawaiisu) or Grasshopper is an ogre who captures children and stores them in a basket to eat later. He uses the sharp spikes on his legs to gouge out people's eyes. He can also shapeshift, taking on the form of a harmless old man or a swarm of grasshoppers.

The Zabraq (Middle East) can leap 30-50 cubits in a single bound. Its urine and feces are highly caustic, and it flings them with its tail to kill its prey. If its prey escapes it by climbing a tree, it roars in fury until it vomits blood and dies.

#last time I got an unspecific ask I didn't know what to say and made the asker unhappy #so #random stuff! yay!#body horror #blood #possibly

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parad-ice-lostandfound · 5 months

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Prompt: "When you were a kid, didn't you ever like to catch snowflakes on your tongue?" "It didn't snow where I used to live." "Wait, you've never seen real snow?!" "Yeah, it's not that bizarre a concept."

Pairing: Ace Trappola x Gn!Reader/Prefect/Yuu

Genre: Fluff

TW: NA

"(Name)" Poke.

"(Name)-"

"Oh for Seven's sake Ace, what? " You turned to look at the ginger, slamming your potionology textbook shut with a loud slam. The coffee table shook under your hand, its creaky joints protesting against your abuse. Ace smirked, before poking out his tongue at you, a childish move to flame the embers of irritation he had so painstakingly built over the past hour.

His troubles earned him a smack on the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You know exactly what that was for."

Ace huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You're no fun," he mumbled, nudging you with his elbow. "It's snowing outside, and we're stuck here, doing homework."

"Would you rather be out in the cold?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Ace leaned back against the couch, sighing as if in great emotional pain like the drama queen he was.

"Don't you like the snow? It's the best thing about winter, well, except when my brother stuffs it down my shirt."

You smiled at his complaining, and Ace kept talking.

"Like seriously, name something that's better than playing in the snow."

"Staying warm and cosy inside? Having hot tea or coffee? Getting our assignments done so we don't piss off Professor Crewel?"

"Woah, woah, what's with all the snow hate?" Ace chuckled, raising his hands in a show of surrender. "When you were a kid, didn't you ever like to catch snowflakes on your tongue?"

"Well, it didn't snow where I used to live. So no."

Ace's eyes widened as he sat up straight. "Wait, you've never seen real snow?!"

"Yeah, it's not that bizarre a concept," you shrugged. "I didn't see it before I came to Twisted Wonderland. And even then I didn't really enjoy the first winter I spent here, considering everything that went down in Scarabia..."

Ace was silent at your reminder of the incident with Jamil's overblot. His eyebrows were furrowed as though he was thinking hard about something. After a few minutes of thinking, he stood up and pulled you to your feet. "Let's go out and play in the snow."

"What? Why- Ace?!" You floundered as Ace began pulling you towards the door, stopping near the cupboard to pull out some jackets and scarves for the two of you.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. Live a little, will ya?"

You rolled your eyes as you let him help you into your jacket. "Fine, but if you get sick, I'm not going to be doing your work for you."

"Sure, sure."

Back to Masterlist...

#ice writes #twisted wonderland #twst #twst ace #ace twisted wonderland #ace trappola #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola x yuu #gn!yuu #gn!reader #gn!prefect #merry twstmas event #400 follower event

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dottores · 1 year

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A WINTER NIGHT'S LAZZO | PANTALONE & DOTTORE

summary: a peaceful night in bed is interrupted when dottore returns to you your drunken lover, now you must spend the night taking care of him... and perhaps having a serious conversation with the second too.

warnings: none rlly, poly relationship (meaning dottore x pantalone too), pantalone had been drinking and you're taking care of him, implied past smut between you dottore and pantalone, extremely self-ship

notes: i luv them ur honor sobs this was so indulgent i literally wrote it in like an hour -- @snezhnayans @mxnjiros @dxlucs @hanmas @manjiroscum @suyacho @alucrds @tokyometronetwork

wordcount: between 1.5 and 2k

even before he spoke, you could tell that he had been drinking. the regrator usually walked with a sort of confidence that would have even the most powerful men taking a second glance. it was a mask, yes, but a mask that he wore well—one that he rarely let drop even around you.

he was not the sort of man that stumbled over his feet and he was not the sort of man that ever would ask for help. so when the door to your room slammed open and pantalone floundered in, being steadied by dottore, you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows.

“i thought he said he wasn’t drinking tonight,” you said, amused, as you placed your book down on your nightstand and sat up from where you were lounging against fluffy pillows.

“i thought so too,” dottore agreed, eyes lit up in a sort of way that they only did when he was with you and pantalone. “found him slumped against a wall complaining about the floor moving beneath him.”

always one to point blame at something other than him, you thought to yourself, biting back a giggle as your eyes traced over pantalone’s flushed face and red-stained lips.

“come here,” you said to the older man, whose hazy eyes drifted in your direction as dottore’s grip tightened on his waist, preventing him from swaying on his feet again.

“when did you get here?” your eyes widened a bit at the heavy slur to pantalone’s voice, strong enough so that you could barely even make out what he was saying. your eyes drifted behind him to dottore, who looked thoroughly amused at your reaction.

“oh my,” you said quietly, unable to muffle the next giggle that rose to your lips. “help him to me.”

“i don’t need help,” pantalone said, offended, batting dottore away and nearly careening right to the ground. “‘m perfectly fine.”

“of course you are,” you placated him as dottore guided him closer to the bed. you smiled as pantalone collapsed right into your lap, face buried in the crook of your neck.

you let out a soft ‘oof’, adjusting yourself to the added weight as you wrapped one arm around his waist, rubbing circles against his back, while the other held the back of his head. he reeked of cabernet and the faint scent of that perfume he enjoyed so much.

“how much did you drink?” you asked, kissing as close as you could get to his temple as pantalone hiccuped against your skin. he was never this docile unless he was sick or all but blacked out. you wondered if he would even remember this in the morning… perhaps it would be better if he didn’t.

“two glasses,” he had the audacity to lie blatantly as you held him. you withheld the urge to jab your fingers into his side, knowing he would probably just throw up on you.

“how much did you drink?” you asked again, after a moment of silence.

“two bottles,” he said, and you shook your head, forcing yourself not to smile.

“oh, i hope you don’t remember this tomorrow morning, you’ll be absolutely despicable if you do,” you murmured, kissing the top of his head again as you felt his eyes droop shut, lashes tickling your skin.

he had been dining with some of the less antagonistic aristocrats, if you remembered correct. he would be livid if he humiliated himself in front of them… you wondered if you could slip out to find pulcinella before pantalone woke in the morning, he would likely know how the meeting went down.

as your thoughts ran amok, your gaze snapped up as you heard your door creek open again.

dottore was trying to sneak out, you realized.

“where are you going?” you asked, frowning deeply as the masked man paused, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“back to my lab,” he said. “i have research to finish up before the meeting tomorrow.”

“you’re going to leave me with him?” you asked, aghast. “i can’t handle him alone while he’s like this.”

you knew very well that he would wake up midway through the night sick and complaining—not able to make it to the bathroom before he was heaving up the food and alcohol he had consumed at dinner.

“he’s your lover, no?” dottore asked, leaning against the doorframe as he stared at the two of you with an unreadable expression. “i’m sure you can deal with him perfectly fine.”

that’s right, you thought to yourself, barely holding back a sigh. the three of you had never explicitly stated what… this was. you and pantalone had been together long before dottore had ever wormed his way into your relationship but even then, he was usually just… there. joining you in bed occasionally, lingering around the two of you in his rare bits of free time, never anything too intimate… and this was intimate, more than just a use of release, you were asking him to spend the night with the two of you.

“must you be so difficult,” you murmured, carding your fingers through pantalone’s hair as the man drifted to sleep on top of you. you would have to shift him off at some point otherwise your body would be numb by morning… but he looked more at peace now than he ever had before, so you decided to leave him for now.

… plus you wanted to take advantage of the rare show of docility from the harbinger.

“don’t be daft, dottore,” you finally sighed loudly, looking back up at the man. his lips were pressed together tight at the comment—you should feel proud, not many were able to insult the second harbinger and live to see the next morning. “he is my lover, you are my lover, and you are each other’s. and you are not going to leave me here to deal with him alone. he’s absolutely miserable when he’s sick. you will suffer through it with me.”

dottore did not look moved by your speech. your eyes narrowed.

“either you stay and help me tonight or i’ll sic him on you tomorrow when he’s hungover and even more miserable,” you threatened and the doctor simply shook his head, closing the door and making his way back over to the bed.

“and you have the audacity to call me the difficult one,” dottore said flatly, taking a seat hesitantly on the bed next to you, watching pantalone with a fond expression on his face… or as fond as he could get with the mask on, you supposed. “does he agree with what you said? or was it just a way to delegate some of the work to me?”

you turned your head to the side to look at him. you didn’t say anything for a moment, just observing him. he still had that wretched mask covering half of his face and you realized, dully, that you had never seen him without it. your body moved before your mind could reconsider, reaching up to pull the mask off.

long, thin fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist in an instant, stopping you just as the pads of your fingers brushed the cool metal. you didn’t pull away, you supposed you took it as a challenge—another thing that you should be proud of, because no one challenged the second and lived to tell… much less get him to back down.

it took a few moments of tense silence but dottore eventually released your wrist, reluctantly, if the way his lips were pressed together tight had anything to say about it.

you held your breath as you slipped the mask off of his face, eyes tracing what was finally exposed to you. rough, jagged skin over both of his eyes—burn scars, it seemed. you reached up to cup his cheek, he tensed but only for a second.

you leaned in just a bit so that you didn’t disturb pantalone, smiling as you spoke quietly. “as intelligent as he may be, our lovely, drunken princess has the emotional awareness of a rock… just like someone else in this room.”

“i hope you’re referring to yourself,” dottore said dryly, but he didn’t move your hand away as your thumb brushed over his cheekbone.

“i am not,” you replied, an amused lilt to your tone as dottore visibly forced himself from rolling his eyes.

“you have some nerve,” he murmured.

“i do,” you agreed. shifting carefully as pantalone let out a soft groan on top of you. you brought your hand to his hair, hushing him softly and running your fingers through the dark locks as you tried to get him to settle down and go back to sleep.

you watched, amused, as his arm dropped to the bed next to you, hand landing right on top of where dottore was resting his. the older man stiffened, eyes darting down to where their hands were connected. you smiled to yourself.

“give him time,” you said quietly, eyeing dottore from the corner of your eye as you finally rested back against the pillows, ready for whatever little sleep you would have before pantalone inevitably disrupted it when he woke up sick. “it’ll take a bit for him to process and verbalize what he feels for you. it took him months with me… but you’ll find he’ll be very pleased when you start hanging around more… actually spending the night instead of leaving as soon as you’re finished.”

dottore sounded irritated as he sighed but he was making himself comfortable next to you, so you considered it a win.

“and if you’re wrong?” he asked.

“i’m never wrong,” you said proudly, scowling as dottore scoffed. you side-eyed him heavily. “now go to sleep, you have to deal with him first.”

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