#me and m'self

[scriv3lloirl]

GUH HAPPY STIMS ART REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!!

ERM AH UHHH COULD YOU MAYBE DRAW ORIN WITH HIS GAS MASK ON?? ITS OKAY IF NOT-

Hey, Seymour, give me a hand, will ya?

[yukikorogashi]

PHOTOS OF STAGEPLAY ITSUKI-- a rare sighting indeed!

[sad-weeb]

Whats up holodeckers, this is Quarkiplier coming to you LIVE… from Deep Space 9!

[faeryton]

i'm such a deerboy YAYYYY <3333

[piers-official]

🎀 RIBBON BOW — how confident are you with your physical appearance? is there anything about it that you are insecure about? is there anything about it that you are happy about or gives you confidence? how do you think people perceive you based on your physical appearance?

S'aright I guess. Other's tell me m'pretty or handsome or such, but I dunno, I jus' don't really see it I guess.

Usually others see me with makeup on, they never see me without. -Got bags under m'eyes, freckles an' acne scars, sunken cheekbones. M'also underweight and don't gain weight/muscle mass easily- dunno why I notice all these things, but no one else seems to. Perhaps they don' care.

Maybe m'just over thinkin' it maybe m'wrong. Who knows. Point is, I don't usually like how I look.

[shiverskull]

either i need to get bolder or some'a these dresses need to get a lil' less pretty......

[zinziinziiin]

we can all be doing well at olympic swimming. move to australia

[ghoulishhx]

*pulls up presentation*

We've all heard of wanting to bite the bicep, surely not a new phenomenon given their biteability, but may I purpose uno reverse =

Frank wanting to bite the thickness of his girls side's/thighs/stomach.

Especially when wearing underwear that's a tad too tight so it accentuates the dip in skin and he's just losing his mind internally at how soft her skin would feel in his mouth.

18+ MDNI !!!

this has been ALL IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT FOR DAYS

maybe im biased, being a big girl myself. but frank and plus size reader to me makes absolute sense, i feel like he just loves all your natural bumps and curves, stretch marks, loose skin etc. it's what makes you you, and as much as you may be self conscious about it, it drives him FERAL.

we already know he's a munch, any opportunity he has to be between your legs he will take. seeing you spread out for him, almost naked and exposed except for a tiny thong, makes him go primal monkey mode. he can't help but growl at the sight, can't help himself from taking little nibbles as he trails down your body.

"fuck sweetheart, ya dunno how fuckin' gorgeous you look." he moans into your skin, gripping hard at your waist, trailing to your thighs. he can't stop himself from taking a big ol' chomp out of the skin, his thumb toying with waistband of your panties, feeling the plush of your skin where the fabric causes dips.

you yelp at the feeling of his teeth sinking into you, "frankie-"

"sorry doll, couldn't help m'self. you just look too damn good." he mumbles as he runs his teeth along your skin, alternating between kissing the soft flesh, running his tongue along it and softly sinking his teeth into you. you blush at the sight before you, your boyfriend completely enamored by you, moaning and growling into your skin. the sensation sends a wave of arousal through your body. you can't help but whine at his touch, rutting your hips into him trying to get any ounce of friction.

"eager aren't we?" he darkly chuckles. "i'll get to that doll, just wanna look at ya some more." he resumes his marveling and tasting, just as aroused as you are from merely looking at you and feeling your skin between his lips. his hands trail all over your body, grabbing at your large breasts, toying with the nipples as they trail to your waist, his fingers bruising as he grabs the plush skin, all while he continues running his mouth along your stomach and thighs.

his thumbs sit comfy in your love handles, growling at the feeling of your skin enveloping him. the contrast between his large, rough calloused hands against your soft, plush skin makes his cock twitch in his jeans.

"you dunno what ya do to me sweet girl, you're so fuckin' perfect."

he's obsessed, addicted even.

i wanna write an actual fic for frank x plussize!reader so if this is something you guys would want, please send me a cheeky lil request

My Masterlist!

──── ୨୧ ────

my inbox is open!

[random-thot-generator]

Simon's drunk and just wants to go to bed with his sweetheart.

cw: MDNI- gets a wee bit hot spicy , possible dub con (or is it?) 😏

>>>>>

It's after one in the morning when a heavy knock at the door startles you out of a sound sleep.

You sit up in bed, still half-asleep and confused, and squint at the clock on your nightstand. Not sure what woke you, you're about to lie back down when you hear the knock again. That's never a good thing this late at night.

Now wide awake and scared out of your wits, you slide out of bed and throw on your robe. Creeping through your flat, you tiptoe up to the door and peer through the peephole, seeing an all too familiar face blinking blearily at your door.

Breathing out a sigh of relief, you unlock the door, but leave the chain on, and open it just enough to peek through the gap. "Jesus, Simon. You scared the shit out of me!"

The big Manc is standing on your stoop, swaying in place, his dark brown eyes bloodshot and drooping. "'M sorry, sweet'art. Know it's late. Had a few wiff the lads an' now I can't find m'keys." He inhales a deep breath then hiccups and makes a face. "Will ya let me in?"

He's obviously drunk, but that pitiful, hangdog face gets to you. You slip the chain and open the door. "C'mon in."

Simon shuffles inside and immediately stoops to unlace his boots, nearly pitching face-first onto the floor. "Simon!" you gasp, grabbing his arm. "You're going to hurt yourself. Go sit on the couch."

Unsteady, he stumbles to the couch and basically falls onto it, grunting as he rights himself and drops his head back on the cushions.

"'M s'sorry, love. Shouldn't uh woke ya. Jus' missed ya. Needed t'see ya."

You quirk a brow, smirking. Yeah. Totally wasted. Probably best to let him sleep it off on the couch, then give him hell in the morning. You'll help get him comfortable then let him pass out.

"Let's get your boots off, Si."

Kneeling at his feet, you start working on the laces when you feel his big hand rest on the top of your head. You glance up and smile at him, amused. His hand slides down to cup your cheek, his dark eyes watery as he stares down at you.

"Yer too good t'me, sweet'art. Bess day uh my life is when I met ya."

That actually makes you melt a little. "Aw. That's sweet, Simon."

His brows scrunch together. "'S true, love. Knew the moment I saw ya, you was meant t'be mine."

"What?"

"'M gonna take care uh ya, sweet'art. Gonna take a post at base, trainin' recruits. No more leavin' ya all alone. Worries the hell outta me, doin' tha'."

"Simon, love, you're drunk, talking out of your head. You and me aren't—"

"I know, love. I know," he murmurs, cupping the back of your head. "We're not married yet, but we're gonna be. Be proud t'have ya as my missus. Olready think uh ya like m'wife, anyway. An' one day, ya'll be the mother uh my kids. Yer gonna make a damn good mum, sweet'art; I can tell."

You huff out an exasperated laugh. "Whoa, Simon! This is getting a little too—"

He presses his thumb over your lips and chuckles lowly. "I know, sweet girl. Gettin' ahead uh m'self. Don't worry, love. We'll find a nice place t'settle, first. One uh them quiet li'l villages near the base. Need t'put my pretty wife in a proper home a'fore we start makin' babies." He smirks. "Don't mean we can't practice, though, yeah?"

He reaches for you, but you crab walk backwards. "Si, you've been drinking. We can't—"

You bleat out a startled yelp when he grabs hold of your ankles and drags you back within his reach. Big hands gripping your waist, he picks you up off the floor like a toddler and plops you on his lap, then proceeds to kiss you stupid. Hands kneading and groping, tongue shoved down your throat, you can feel his erection pressing up into the thin material between your legs.

Oh, mercy!

Finally breaking the kiss, he stands in one swift motion, making your already spinning head reel. Pupils blown wide, he smirks down at you with a feral light smoldering in his eyes. "Never too drunk t'give my li'l woman a proper fuckin'," he purrs darkly, then his lips latch onto yours again.

Lying limp as a ragdoll in his arms, he carries you back to your bed and shows you just what a proper fucking is. Several times. He must not have been as drunk as you thought. Come to think of it, he didn't taste like alcohol at all.

The sky is beginning to lighten with the approach of dawn before he finally turns you on your side and curls himself around you. One hand wedged between your legs, the other holding onto your tit, he nuzzles the back of your neck until he eventually drops off into an exhausted sleep.

You blink tired eyes at your bedside clock, remembering you're scheduled to work. Your head flops back down on your pillow. There's no way you're making it into work in the morning. Hell, you're not even sure if you're going to be able to walk tomorrow— not normally, anyway. Even so, you can't be mad about it, not after all those orgasms. Simon truly had a gift; the man is a giver.

Feeling sated, safe and warm, you snuggle back into Simon, ready to fall asleep. Still, your hazy mind can't help but wonder...

What's he going to think when he wakes up next to his favorite barista and not in his own bed?

-

[vanteguccir]

idk if this is allowed cuz it’s hella freaky but dom!chris cumming in your panties as a punishment and you go out to run errands and if you must behave he rubs it in your cunt

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCUMMING IN HER PANTIES * CHRIS STURNIOLO * BLURB

SUMMARY　::　where Chris came in Y/N's panties while she was out and now he's gonna make her cum while rubbing it in her pussy

FEATURING　pervert!Chris Sturniolo x reader

WARNINGS　::　SMUT (mdni)

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error

The air in the room was thick, charged with tension, and the strong scent of arousal. Y/N lay sprawled across the bed, her body fully exposed to Chris’s intense gaze. Her skin was hot, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she watched him kneel at the edge of the mattress.

"Y'look so pretty like this." He hums thoughtfully, raking long, slim fingers around Y/N's ankle, traveling his short nails across her hypersensitive skin. "Should keep you like this forever."

The way his eyes roamed over her - hungry, possessive, and filled with desire - made her heart race, and her thighs press together instinctively.

But Chris wasn’t having that.

"Uh uh. Spread them, princess." He commanded, his voice low and rough, a tone that sent a shiver straight down her spine.

A whine escaped her throat as her body obeyed, her legs falling open to reveal her aching core. She felt exposed and vulnerable, but the fire in his eyes made her feel anything but ashamed. If anything, the intensity of his gaze only made her wetter.

In his hand, he held the delicate lace of her underwear - the pair she’d pulled out of their shared closet earlier, damp and wrinkled, full of his white and almost dry cum. He brought them up to his face, inhaling deeply, and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment as if reliving the moment he'd came so fucking hard between the fabric. When he opened his eyes again, they were darker, his smirk dripping with sin.

"You smell so fucking good." He murmured, his voice like gravel. "I couldn’t help m'self, y'know? I had to touch my dick while thinking about this pretty little pussy of yours."

Y/N whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as a flood of heat pooled above her gaping hole, feeling her head spinning.

"Chris." She whispered, her voice shaky, barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

He leaned over her, bracing one hand on the bed beside her as he brought the lace between her thighs. The damp fabric brushed against her folds, and she gasped, her back arching off the mattress at the sensation. It was cool and sticky.

"Feel that?" He growled, his lips brushing against her ear as he moved the fabric with slow strokes. "That’s me, baby. All over your underwear."

Y/N’s breathing hitched, her body trembling as the fabric dragged over her clit, spreading the mixture of his cum and her arousal. It was filthy, decadent, and unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

"You're sick." She mutters, spreading her legs even more to his eyes and hand.

"Mm." Chris ignores her comment. She was right. He was probably just as sick as she was. "You’re cute like this." He teases instead, wetting his lips.

The damp lace clung to her sensitive skin, massaging her bud of nerves, the texture creating an amazing warm friction that had her thighs quivering.

"Chris." She gasped, her hands reaching out to grip his forearms, needing something - anything - to ground herself. "It feels so- oh, God- dirty."

He chuckled darkly, his free hand sliding up her body to cup her tit, his thumb flicking over her hardened nipple.

"That’s because it is, princess." He murmured, his tone dripping with lust. "And I know that you're loving it, huh?"

Her head fell back against the pillows, a moan tearing from her lips as her hips bucked against the underwear, feeling his middle finger covered with the fabric teasing her hole.

"Yes." She admitted, her voice a broken whisper. "I love it."

Chris groaned, pressing his palm against her clit, his movements becoming more deliberate, her pussy taking on an irritated red color by the second.

"You’re so fucking wet." He groaned, his eyes glued to the way her pussy moved under his touch. "So messy, all covered in me, right, doll?"

Y/N hums, then nods.

"Yeah, Chris." She agrees, forcing their eyes to meet as his hand kept moving. "S'your stupid fault."

Chris buckles his hips under her gaze, breath hitching and eyes lidding as he tries not to grind against Y/N’s legs.

"Can't' blame me for everything, pretty girl."

He smirked, leaning down to capture her lips in a rough kiss. His tongue delved into her mouth, tangling with hers, creating a wet, messy kiss, their moans mingling as the tension in her body coiled tighter and tighter.

Without warning, he shifted the lace, wrapping it tightly around one of his fingers. He moved slowly while keeping her distracted with his tongue, pressing the covered digit against her entrance, teasing her with the slick, rough texture.

Her breath hitched, her eyes flying open to meet his already opened ones as he pushed it inside her in one unrelenting thrust. The sensation was immediate - raw, dirty, and deliciously invasive.

"Oh, God- Jesus." She cried out, her hips jolting at the unknown intrusion. The lace scraped against her walls, the friction bringing her the best feeling of pain and pleasure as he twisted his finger inside her.

"Feels good, doesn’t it?" Chris cooed, slowing his movements for a beat, drawing it out and making Y/N cry out in protest.

"Yes." She choked out, her nails clawing at his biceps skin. "Feels so good." Her clit throbbed so hard she swore she could feel it in her head. "M'so close." She whimpered, her voice desperate as her hips bucked into his hand, forcing his finger deeper inside her.

"Yeah? Then cum for me, princess." He growled, his voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you soak this. Show me how good it feels."

The combination of his words, the relentless thrust of his finger, and the rough texture inside her was too much. Her body arched off the bed, her thighs squeezing around his hand as her orgasm crashed over her in a violent, blinding wave.

"Chris!" She screamed, her voice breaking as her release flooded over him, soaking the lace even more. The mess was obscene, dripping down her ass cheeks, her entire body trembling uncontrollably as the pleasure consumed her.

Chris moaned, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he watched her fall apart beneath him.

"That’s it." He murmured, his voice thick with arousal. "Fuck, that's so hot."

He slowly pulled his finger out, the lace slick and dripping, and held it up to her lips.

"Open." He ordered, his voice rough with arousal. When she obeyed, he slipped the soaked fabric between her lips, letting her taste their mixed releases as he pressed it against her tongue. "Good girl."

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss from her forehead to her lips, tossing the ruined panties somewhere onto the floor without a second thought.

"You’re so beautiful." Chris muttered against Y/N's mouth, hand now pressing down into the small of her stomach. "I’ll never get enough of you."

She smiled weakly, breath hitching when Chris's fingers dip down towards her pulsing pussy before skirting back up.

"No way you're ever topping this." She mutters.

Chris grins.

"Is that a challenge, princess?"

© vanteguccir

[scriv3lloirl]

Th' needle is jus fer show btw

[ddejavvu]

one thing that has been all over my fyp is this girl basically babying her bf when hes sick. but ! im imagining reader doing this to bestfriend!james and sirius and remus watching like ???!!!

In your opinion, it's perfectly acceptable to spoon-feed James soup while he's sick. After all, his limbs are achy from being bent at awkward angles throughout the night due to his restless tossing and turning, so repeatedly bringing spoon after spoon to his mouth would only wear his joints out more.

It is, perhaps, only a little silly because you are using an actual baby spoon. It's green silicon with white plastic around the handle that grows warm beneath your steady touch. requested specifically by James who always has an aversion to the feeling of his teeth scraping against metal cutlery, but especially can't handle it when everything else in his body feels wrong.

He lets the hinge of his jaw open weakly as you press another spoonful of soup to his lips, humming warmly as the broth slides down his dry throat and rehydrates it. Remus's eyes flicker over at the sound, but dutifully return to his book.

Sirius is the shit-stirrer, as always.

"Remus," He whines, tucked into his own blankets, though not for sickness as much as for laziness, "I'm feeling ill. Would you heat me up a ba-ba?"

"Yes dear," Remus hums, attention still firmly on his book, "Would you like me to burp you afterwards as well?"

Sirius lets out a belch from beneath the blankets, then snickers at it, "Nah, I've got that one down m'self."

"Vile," James's face crumples into a grimace, and you very kindly don't bring up the countless burping contests the two have had with each other over their years of friendship, "Sirius, I'm already nauseous enough as it is, you don't need to make things worse."

"Oh," Sirius gushes, "Baby's tummy hurts."

"Leave him alone, Sirius-" You marvel at Remus's intrusion, a sudden flare of gratefulness warming your chest, until, "-It's not fair to antagonize infants."

"You are awful friends," You decide, eyeing the pair disapprovingly as you pat away sweat that's accumulated on James's forehead from the strain of simply breathing, "The poor man is sick, and he has no appetite, he's not been able to breathe through his nose for days, he's got a constant headache-"

"-he needs a diaper change, he's missed his naptime, and Mummy won't take him to the playground," Sirius croons in faux-sympathy, "James, my heart goes out to you, mate."

"You'll see," James croaks, only rejecting the spoonful of soup that you hold to his mouth in favor of ribbing Sirius, "I'll cough on your toothbrush Pads, then we'll see who's being dramatic."

[choiuikawa]

.ᐟ SUNA HEADCANONS

CONTENT: Suna Rintaro x Reader, Suna HCS, yapping, drunken confessions, drabble, GN reader, time-skip, "what are we" type of trope

WARNING: might be OOC, non prof read, bad writing

AN: was crying over my dog cus he had surgery but i gotta thug it out 🥲

.ᐟ.ᐟ

• I know he's a millennial, but I like to think that he has gen Z humor. So he'd definitely be the type to have gen Z humor.

• his jokes are updated with every single brainrot that comes out of social media every now and then, for example "stop the edge and start looksmaxxing." (you say something worse right after.)

• I can imagine him having 2 or 3 tattoos, and one of those tattoos is definitely your name.

• HIS TEXTS ARE THE DEFINITION OF SARCASTIC.

• he randomly flexes his biceps in front of you just to see how you would react.

• he could be the type to wrap his arms around your waist from behind and start to slowly kiss your neck.

• this man is full of surprises. A second ago you were just cuddling and suddenly it becomes a full blown make-out session.

• before you were dating, you made it painfully obvious that you liked him but he didn't confess until you confess. (he liked you back, but he just wanted to see how long you could hold up)

• if you started to lose feelings just because you think that he just sees you as a friend, he starts to panic and immediately starts finding a way to fix the gap between the both of you.

• In the end you confessed first, although you were quite tipsy at the time. You just started rambling about how much you liked him.

"did anyone tell ya that yer quite the cute guy?"

"no.."

"well, yer cute thats fo'sho."

"yer drunk. You don't know what yer talking about."

"yes I do.. I like everythin' about ya. Starting from yer personality, humor, unique, funny, understanding and.. and-"

"Do ya mean that?"

"hell yes. I would give you my life if it mean't bein' whiddya. But, you jus see me as one of yer friends. hurts, doesn't it?" tears formed in your eyes while muttering the last sentence.

"no.. no, I— I don't see you as a friend."

"what do you see me as then? tell me please.. if ya tell me I'll move on I s- *hic* -swear.."

"I didn't finish yet, I don't want you to move on and I don't want you to ever think that I see you as a friend, I see you more than that.. please, let me explain m'self, I love you with every single fiber of my body, I love you so much to the point that I can't see my life without you in it. Your presence is so much more to me, I don't see you as my friend, I see you as my world."

• You have never tried kissing anyone before however, you don't know what came over your senses but you just immediately crashed your lips onto his sealing the both of your lips in a messy kiss. It was quite loving if i have to say so myself..

• you're both basically ctrl + c and ctrl + v

• he has you as his lock screen AND home screen no doubt.

• he would send you cheesy texts and pictures of himself just to update you that he's still there LMAO

• he definitely would be the person to own a pet snake

• his favorite color is (ur fav color) because its your favorite color.

• if you were to commit a crime he'd take cover for you and would also probably take the blame IFHAKFHJAJRA

© @cupidsfavors — DO NOT COPY OR REPOST. Reblogs are appreciated!

[tinyshyteacup]

Taglist: @kellynickelsgirl00 @dixonsbridexx @yikes-myguy @blackwidownat2814 @euqsia @lliteratii @imadisneyprincessiswear @satata @smashleywow @misspendragonsworld

----------------------------------------------------------

TW: cussing, angry early seasons Daryl, angst, explosions, mass extinction, nationwide destruction, descriptions of walkers (Zombies) , firearms, Shane is creepy (and maybe slightly ooc ?), mentions of past abuse.

Part 4

Dead Weight - Part 5

The Georgia sun beat down mercilessly as you trudged through the underbrush, your boots crunching on fallen leaves.

It had been three days since Carl was shot, three days since Hershel had reluctantly opened his farm to your group, and five days since Sophia had disappeared into the woods.

The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, a maze of trees and undergrowth that seemed designed to swallow little girls whole,

The search party had splintered into smaller groups, desperation mounting with each passing hour.

You wiped sweat from your brow, your clothes sticking to your skin in the oppressive humidity.

The CDC explosion felt like a lifetime ago.

Since then, you'd been operating on autopilot—helping pack supplies, taking watch shifts, and now searching for Carol's daughter alongside the others.

"She couldn't have gotten far," Rick insisted, checking his map again. His confidence had been wavering with each sunset that brought no sign of Sophia.

"We'll find her," Shane added, though the look he exchanged with Lori said otherwise.

You'd been paired with Glen for the day's search. The young Korean man had always been kind, offering quiet support without the prying questions others sometimes asked.

You appreciated his steady presence and the way he tried to keep spirits up despite everything.

"We should drink more water," Glen reminded you, gesturing at your nearly full bottles. "This heat is brutal."

You took a sip, watching as he studied the map Rick had given each search team.

"Should we head toward that creek?" you asked, pointing to a blue line on the wrinkled paper.

"Good idea. She might have followed the water." Glen nodded, adjusting his baseball cap.

"Daryl said kids tend to follow landmarks."

As you walked toward the creek, you couldn't help but notice Daryl moving through the trees about fifty yards to your left. He was searching alone, as usual, his crossbow ready and his eyes constantly scanning the forest floor.

Just the night before, you'd been gathering firewood near the edge of camp when voices drew your attention to the old stone chimney—all that remained of a house long gone.

"This isn't happening, Shane," Lori's voice was low but firm. "Not now, not ever again."

"You can't just flip a switch on this, Lori. What we had—"

"Was a mistake," she cut him off. "Rick is alive. My husband is alive."

"And what about before? You telling me that was nothing?"

"I'm telling you it's over." A pause. "And I'd appreciate it if you kept your distance."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

You'd quietly backed away, not wanting to eavesdrop further.

You'd noticed Shane's eyes following you around the campfire, something in his gaze that made you uneasy.

Cornstalks swayed with the wind, as you prepared for another day of searching, their rustle brushing against old farmhouse siding and the quiet murmur of uneasy voices.

The group is scattered across the property—some pacing, some sharpening tools, most wearing fear like armor.

"We'll cover more ground if we split up," Shane announced, adjusting the rifle slung over his shoulder. His eyes lingered on you a beat too long.

"We'll take east toward the creek." Shane announced nodding in your direction.

"Glen, you and Maggie check the ridge. Daryl, you said somethin' about tracks heading south?"

Daryl scowled, chewing absently on his thumbnail. "I can handle it m'self. Don't need nobody slowin' me down."

"Everyone pairs up," Rick insisted, his voice raspy with exhaustion. The man had barely slept since his son had been shot. "That's the rule."

"I don't need no damn babysitter," Daryl spat.

Shane stepped closer to you, resting his hand on the small of your back.

You instinctively shifted away from his touch, but he didn't seem to notice—or chose not to.

"C'mon. I promised to teach you how to shoot today too."

"You're holding it wrong," Shane said now, moving behind you to adjust your grip on the pistol.

His chest pressed against your back as his arms enveloped yours, guiding the weapon toward the makeshift target he'd set up—an old can perched on a fallen log.

You stiffened, trying to create space between your bodies. "Thanks."

He didn't budge. "Relax your shoulders. Don't anticipate the kickback." His hands slid from your wrists to your shoulders, massaging slightly.

"Hey Shane, stop" you said quietly, stepping to the side. "I should focus."

Something flashed in his eyes—annoyance, maybe—but he stepped back with a forced smile. "Just trying to help."

The gun fired, the can flying off the log. You couldn't help the triumphant smile that spread across your face. "I did it!"

Shane's hand immediately returned to your shoulder, squeezing. "Natural talent. Knew you had it in you."

His smile seemed genuine, though something in his eyes remained calculated. "Few more sessions and you'll be outshooting everyone except me."

You subtly shifted away from his touch again.

He stepped closer, his hand finding your waist. "You know, it's good to see you smile. After everything I wasn't sure if—"

You moved away more deliberately this time. "More practice ? "

His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Sure thing." He reached for your arm. "But there's no rush. We got time out here, just the two of us."

A sharp crack of twigs interrupted him. You both turned to see Daryl emerging from the trees, crossbow held ready, his face a mask of irritation.

"You two done playin' around?" he growled. "Thought we was looking for a little girl, not having a damn date in the woods."

Shane's posture changed instantly.

Straightening.

Territorial.

"We're covering our section, same as you."

"Ain't heard walkers gettin' shot," Daryl retorted.

"Just wasting a bunchcha bullets on cans while Sophia's still out there."

"Not all of us were born with a crossbow in our hands, Daryl." you shot back, annoyed at his dismissive tone, though secretly relieved at the interruption.

Something flickered across his face—hurt, frustration—before his usual scowl returned.

"Whatever. Found some tracks by the creek that might be hers. But don't trouble yourselves. I got it."

He turned to leave, but Shane called after him. "Hey! We're all on the same team here."

Daryl stopped but didn't turn around.

"Are we?" he asked quietly before disappearing back into the underbrush.

Shane shook his head. "Don't mind him." He moved toward you again.

You stepped back. "We should head back. Check in with the others."

His eyes narrowed slightly. "We've barely covered any ground."

"I thought this was about teaching me to shoot?"

"It is, but—" He ran a hand over his head. "Look, I'm just trying to look out for you. After what you found out... I figured you could use a friend."

The mention of your home hit like a physical blow.

You swallowed hard. "I appreciate that. But right now, finding Sophia is what matters."

The farmhouse kitchen was a welcome respite from the tension outside. The sweet smell of sugar and vanilla filled the air as you worked alongside Beth and Maggie.

"Daddy always said meringue was too finicky in Georgia humidity." Beth giggled.

"It's not exactly apocalypse food," Maggie added, cracking eggs and separating the whites with practiced ease. "But with all these chickens laying, we might as well use them for something."

"Back home, this is practically a national dish," you explained, not allowing yourself to dwell on the memory of home.

"Mum used to make it for every holiday."

The silence that followed was heavy. Beth squeezed your arm. "Well, now you can teach us. Keep the tradition going."

The screen door opened, and Hershel walked in, wiping his hands on a towel.

He'd just come from checking on Carl, who was finally back up and about.

"Something smells wonderful," he observed.

"Mr. Greene, I wanted to thank you. For the eggs, and... well ... for everything, really." You smiled at him.

The older man's face softened slightly. "Call me Hershel. And you're more then welcome dear."

"Though I hope you understand this arrangement isn't permanent."

"As soon as Carl's strong enough to travel, we'll—"

"And when they find Sophia," Beth interjected firmly.

"Yes," Hershel agreed after a moment. "When you find that little girl."

Dusk was settling over the farm as everyone gathered on the porch for dinner.

"This looks amazing," Dale exclaimed, admiring your dessert.

"Dig in," you smiled, cutting slices for everyone.

Carol accepted her piece with a weak smile, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. "Sophia would've loved this. She had such a sweet tooth."

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a sympathetic squeeze.

"Has," Rick corrected gently. "And she'll get to try some soon. Daryl found something today."

All eyes turned to Daryl, who stood awkwardly at the edge of the group, looking uncomfortable with the attention.

"Aint much" he mumbled. "I'll be out mornin' at first light."

"You've been out there all day," Andrea remarked. "Don't you need to rest?"

Daryl scoffed. "I'll rest when we find her."

You moved through the group, handing out slices of pavlova. When you reached Daryl, he hesitated before accepting it.

"Saul this?" he asked suspiciously, poking at the dessert.

"Pretty much just sugar and fruit." You joked quietly.

He studied it a moment longer before picking it up and slurrping a piece from between his fingers. Something in his expression softened.

"S'good," he admitted quietly, sucking the remnants of the dessert off his fingers.

"Like this, girl. Arms straight, knees bent—don’t lock up. You ain’t dancing, you’re aiming.”

You nod, concentrating, biting your bottom lip. When you fire, the shot goes wide, and you flinch at the recoil. Shane chuckles, steps in closer—his large hands guiding yours.

From the edge of the nearby woods, Daryl lowered his crossbow slightly, eyes narrowing at the scene unfolding at the makeshift shooting range.

He'd been tracking a deer since before sunrise, following it across the eastern edge of the farm until the sound of voices had sent it bounding away.

Shane's body language set off warning bells in Daryl's mind.

The way the former deputy stood too close, the way his hands settled on your hips, the stiffness in your posture as you pulled away—it all read wrong.

Daryl's jaw clenched involuntarily. He knew that look in Shane's eyes—had seen it enough times in his own father's face, in Merle's face when they wanted something and weren't planning to take no for an answer.

He shifted his weight, debating whether to intervene. It wasn't his business.

He barely knew you, had barely spoken more than a handful of gruff words in your direction.

Yet something about the way Shane touched you made his skin crawl.

"Watching over someone?"

The quiet voice nearly made him jump. Carol had approached silently—a skill she'd perfected in her years with Ed.

"M'tracking a deer," Daryl muttered, not taking his eyes off you and Shane. "Lost it."

Carol followed his gaze, her expression darkening slightly as she observed the tension in your interaction with Shane. "He's been circling her since the CDC," she said quietly.

"Like a damned vulture."

Daryl grunted noncommittally, though his grip tightened on his crossbow.

"Lori shut him down hard," Carol continued. "Now he's looking for... consolation elsewhere."

"Ain't none of m'business," Daryl responded, though he didn't move away.

"No?" Carol's voice was soft but knowing. "That why you look like you're ready to put a bolt in him?"

"Man's tryin’ to impress her," Daryl scowled. "All that hands-on crap."

You fired again—another sharp crack of sound—and both Daryl and Carol watch you flinch and recoil sideways, your feet tangling in the grass. Shane caught your arm, steadying you with a chuckle.

“Easy, girl. Ain’t nobody expecting Annie Oakley.”

Your shoulders curling slightly inward, they could see you step away again as Shane reached for your arm.

"Shane doesn't handle rejection well," Carol observed. "Ed was the same way. Thought he was entitled to whatever he wanted."

Daryl's head snapped toward her. "He try something with you too?"

Carol shook her head. "No. I'm not his type. Plus..." She hesitated. "I think he knows better than to try with me. After Ed, I've gotten pretty good at spotting the warning signs."

She paused, before nodding in your direction. "She hasn't had that experience yet."

"She can handle 'erself," Daryl muttered, though he didn't sound convinced.

"Maybe." Carol's eyes were sad. "But sometimes it's nice to know someone's watching out for you."

Down at the range, Shane had moved even closer to you. His voice was too low to hear, but the tense set of your shoulders was visible even from this distance.

"She keeps telling him to back off," Daryl observed, an edge to his voice. "Dumbass doesn't listen."

"Some men don't," Carol said quietly.

Daryl finally turned to look at her directly. Something passed between them—an understanding born of similar wounds.

Carol had endured Ed's abuse for years, Daryl had grown up with his own father's violence. They both recognized the signs of someone pushing boundaries.

"You ever notice," Carol said carefully, "how she freezes up when he touches her? But when you're nearby, she seems... calmer?"

Daryl snorted. "Tch. Whatever."

"I'm just saying what I see." Carol's voice remained gentle. "When you found Sophia's doll yesterday, she was the first one to thank you."

"Don't mean nothing," he insisted.

"Maybe not." Carol shrugged. "Or maybe she feels safe. Safer than she does with him, anyway."

Before Daryl could respond, a sharp sound drew their attention back to the range.

You had knocked Shane's hand away more forcefully this time, your voice carrying clearly, "Hey Shane ... s-stop—NO."

Shane's posture changed immediately, his body language becoming more aggressive as he stepped into your space. "What's your problem? I'm just trying to—"

"Y'alright ?" Daryl called out, stepping from the treeline before he'd even realized he was moving.

His crossbow hung casually at his side, but his eyes were fixed on Shane with unmistakable warning.

Relief washed visibly over your face, while Shane's expression darkened.

"Just fine," Shane called back, his tone clipped.

"Dont look fine" Daryl countered, heading down the slope.

Carol followed a few steps behind. "Looks like she's done with her lesson."

You seized the opportunity. "We're finishing up. Actually, Carol, didnt you need help with the laundry?"

The lie was obvious, but you didn't care.

Shane forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Well, don't let me keep you then."

"We'll pick this up later." The threat was subtle but unmistakable in Shane's tone.

"Sure," you replied noncommittally. As Shane stalked away toward the farmhouse, you released a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

"You okay?" Carol asked gently.

"Fine," you said automatically, then reconsidered. "He doesn't understand the word 'no.'"

Daryl chewed on his thumbnail. "Want me to make 'im understand?"

The words came out before he realized it.

You looked up at him, surprised by the protective edge in his voice. "N-no ... I can handle Shane."

"We could help," Carol suggested. "I could use shooting practice too. Safety in numbers."

"Walsh ain't gonna back off easy," Daryl warned, finally looking back at you. "Men like that, they think they're owed something."

"I'm not anyone's prize," you mumbled into the ground.

Something flickered in Daryl's eyes. "No," he agreed quietly. "Y'ain't."

Carol glanced between the two of you, a small smile playing at her lips despite the seriousness of the situation.

As the three of you walked back toward camp, Carol fell into step beside Daryl, her voice dropping so only he could hear.

"See? She feels safe with you."

"Stop," he muttered, but there was less conviction in his tone than before.

[ghoulishhx]

i yeaaarnnn to be ‘used’ by frank whenever he wants to. he’d suddenly bend me over and just fuck me roughly while being degrading obvy😩

this. yes. absolutely yes. omg

also I'm so sorry for disappearing on you all, I'm gonna keep it real I completely crashed and burned with my mental health. a lot has happened in my personal life these past few weeks that have exhausted me to fuck so I needed some time to focus on myself. I'm gonna try get back to my regular posting. thank you for your patience ♡

in happier news though, tomorrow is my birthdayyyyyy :3 so enjoy this tiny lil drabble as a lil present

- MDNI below the cut :3 -

I believe frank is like a feral dog when it comes to his girl. watching you do anything domestic makes his monkey brain go crazy and he just needs you right there and then. the feeling is mutual of course, and you're more than happy to oblige.

maybe he watches you in the kitchen, hair up out of your face wearing nothing but a thin short summer dress because of the scorching heat (absolutely taking inspiration for that from the state of the UK rn in this godforsaken heatwave), you're just minding your business washing dishes and you feel frank coming up behind you, trailing his coarse hands along your front, grabbing and squeezing at your soft breasts deliciously peaking through the top of your dress as he trails his lips down your neck, nibbling the skin.

"frankie- what are you doing? aren't you too warm-"

"don't care, need ya now."

he flips you around and bends you over your kitchen table, hiking your dress up above your hips and exposing your dripping cunt to him. he hums appreciatively as he toys your throbbing clit with his calloused thumb between your legs, collecting your slick and coating his cock in your juice. you can't help but jolt into his touch, your body subconsciously opening yourself up to him.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he pushes himself fully inside and begins a punishing pace. your eyes well with tears by the force of his hips, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the room along with your strangled moans. the sting of him stretching you out only floods his cock more.

"feel so fuckin' good doll, always so perfect and tight f'me" he mutters to himself as he slaps your ass, the sting hurting so good as the tip of his cock touches your cervix. it's not long until you're creaming around his member, covering him with a ring of your arousal at the base before he fills you up with his own seed....

or maybe you're in the shower, humming the melody to your favourite song as you look up and notice him standing and staring at you from the doorway, his hand confidently resting on his large bulge in his jeans as he watches you intently. Frank can't help but practically lick his lips at the sight of your hard nipples, the way the water cascades down your figure, the soap coating your body with delicious bubbles. it's not long before hes stripping himself off and taking you up against the cool tile wall of your shower, wrapping your legs around his hips as he thrusts himself up into you.

"couldn't help m'self sweetheart, ya just looked too damn good..." he mumbles into your neck as he sucks purple bruises all over you, marking you. "you dunno what ya do t'me"

or finally, you're out together at a bar and he watches the bar tender look at you for too long, notices the way his eyes leer over your body as he hands you your vodka cranberry. the way his lips curl into a smile as your fingers graze his as he hands over your drink. Frank can't take it anymore, he slams a 50 dollar bill on the table and grabs your wrist, whisking you away to the nearest bathroom and fucks your brains out in earshot of the bartender, making sure he knows you belong to him and only him.

"that's it baby, let it all out. let everyone know who's making ya feel this good. let everyone know who ya belong to"

a/n: idk if this is any good, just something I cooked up while not being able to sleep. I'm sorry if it's mid </3

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris who doesn’t care about anyone but will take you to his room during a party if you got too fucked up and comfort you (begrudgingly) if you get sick

"look at you... you're a fuckin' mess, kid — shit," chris scoffs as he practically drags your intoxicated body up the crowded stairs of the fraternity house, scowling and shoving others aside who are blocking his path.

you're a babbling, dizzy, drunken mess — slurring your words, tripping over your own feet, and giggling at nothing in particular. the world spins around you, but you're far too gone to care about how you're making a complete fool of yourself. laughter bubbles up uncontrollably, and each stumble feels like a joke that only you understand.

but you're frustrating chris with your clumsiness, and he stops to crouch down in front of you, and without warning, he grips the back of your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder.

the sudden movement sends a jolt through you, and you let out a surprised squeal, your heart racing with a mixture of embarrassment and exhilaration.

"fuckin' keep still." chris mutters, his voice firm. he keeps a tight hold on the hem of your dress, making sure you don't flash anyone as he navigates up the rest of the stairs and through the hallways, heading towards his bedroom.

as he carries you, you catch blurred glimpses of people staring — some smirking, others giving dirty looks, and a few shaking their heads. you can't help but giggle again, even though the harsh press of his shoulder against your stomach and the bounce of his steps are starting to make you feel queasy.

"seriously. m'tryin' to sell shit to people, and — and you're gettin' drunk off your ass?" chris scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

he pushes the door open with his foot and throws you down on the bed carelessly, the bounce again making your stomach lurch, and you supress a groan.

"jus' stay here for a—hey.. hey. what's that look for, kid? you gonna throw up?" chris' expression shifts slightly, but only for a moment before his eyebrows furrow. "i swear.. if you throw up on my sheets—"

you shake your head, trying to surprise the rising nausea, but the room continues to spin. "i'm fine!" you insist, though the way your stomach churns says otherwise.

"yeah, uh.. m'not too sure about that," chris narrows his eyes at you, scratching his jaw before leaning over to check your face. "you... you don't look fine, okay? and it's... it's freakin' me out, so jus' breathe for a second, yeah? m'gonna get you some water... can you hold on f'me?"

you nod slowly, offering a sluggish grin and a thumps up in reply. he scoffs, shaking his head, and runs his fingers through his hair before turning to leave.

"pain in my fuckin' ass.. gotta do this shit f'you," chris mutters, stepping out the room. his voice trails off, barely audible to your ears as he continues. "if i come back upstairs and you've fuckin' puked, i'm gonna kill you m'self."

© STURNIOZ