#also I am so brain rotting over these guys | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

teddybeartoji · 2 months

Text

THE LITTLE LAMB AND THE BIG BAD WOLF

on a hunt for supplies, you stumble across someone's belongings. a little bit of theft is fine, right? the cold barrel of a gun at your temple says otherwise.

☆. contains: toji fushiguro x gn!reader; apocalypse au; horror, detailed descriptions of blood and death, slow burn, crack, reader is simultaneously a scaredy-cat and a baddie, toji looks scary oh nooo

☆. word count: 6k

☆. note: the world is based on tlou!!! i am soooo into this fucking concept like i'm officially sucking my own dick here. tagging my beloveds @staryukis & @awearywritersworld bc omfg apocalypse ideas!!!!!! and also @dollsuguru @venusiansilk @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @mossmurdock i love you guys so so much thank you for all your support<3333333

+ here's the masterlist

in a world so fucked up – it's easy to get lost in the darkness.

when the infection took over, everything changed. everything. people aren't people anymore – they've become hosts for a type of fungus known as the cordyceps. it grows all over the brain and takes control of the body, turning the person into something they're not.

if anyone were to ask you how many have you killed, infected or not, you'd be devoid of an answer.

it's hard to find your way when just about everything is out to get you. infected or not – there's always something ready to tear you into pieces, to sink their teeth into your soft flesh – that's just the way things are now.

but you're used to it. used to the feeling of adrenaline pumping in your veins as you run from a horde, used to the feeling of a blade at your throat, used to the feeling of a punch, of a slap. used to the constant grumble in your stomach, used to the sore legs and shoulders, used to cleaning off blood from yourself and your clothes, from your weapons. you're used to the gurgling and clicking, the crying and sobbing, the begging and pleading.

but no matter how much you tell yourself that you've grown used to the horrors of the new world, you cannot escape the anxiety that hides under every inch of your skin. it's always with you – holding your clammy hand as it drags you into the depths, into the shadows. you try to fight it but it's hard.

it's hard forcing away the only thing that holds you so tight, the only thing that truly cares for you. it's is a suffocating blanket that hides you from the cruelty of the world, trying its best to shelter you from it all. it's better to stay inside. it's better to stay away. they're going to hurt you. something is here. just stay here with me, under the warm blanket. they're coming. it's going to hurt. let's stay here forever.

don't you want it to stop?

being torn apart by the cold crippling fear and the warm rotting hands – it's getting harder and harder to breathe. but you've learned how to keep them at bay over the years; always in the line of sight, always on your mind. there's no rest for the wicked.

moonlight leads the way as you make your way to a shopping mall. the wind howls in your ears and sends a shiver down your spine. moss and ivy cover the walls of the massive building, swallowing it bit by bit, making it a part of the nature as the time passes.

the axe in your hand feels heavy, but right nonetheless. the handle is stained with blood; it has seeped deep into the wood and now acts as an extra weight to the blade. a small 9mm handgun sits pretty in the holster around your thigh, a knife hides in its leather sheath on your belt, a bow rests on your shoulder and a few arrows peek from your bag.

despite the armory, your bag hasn't been this empty in a while. the blame falls on a group of men you ran into a week or so back. precious ammo and resources were spent on the bastards, and while the blood reward was good - the lack of food and meds is now becoming concerning. your shoulder still hurts from the fall, a big dark bruise transforming your skin into a painting of the midnight sky.

you shake the flashlight on the strap of your backpack and listen to the batteries bounce around inside it. you give it a stronger shake and it turns on. the broken glass shines as you carefully step inside the big atrium and take a look around. your little light forces back the creeping shadows, now showcasing you the infected bodies that lay dead on the ground before you.

pools of blood conflux together and paint the tiles a dark shade of maroon; the ichor flows in between the cracks and disappears under the soles of your boots when you step further inside. they're fresh. light reflects off the liquid as you squat down to take a closer look. none of the three bodies seem to have bullet wounds – one of the runner has a slit throat while the other leaks from a hole in the side of the head and the clicker... it's head has been completely bashed in, making it hard to even recognize it as one.

beating up a clicker is not easy by any means; though the fungus growing on their face and head blinds them, it also acts almost like armor. they can take a bullet to the head and still keep coming – the call of death rippling through their body as they run at you, hands reaching out to grab, to pull, to hold.

the fact that they did this, either with their bare hands or some other blunt object, just means that they're good. it also begs the question whether they didn't have the bullets to spare or they simply decided not to use them. you just hope you won't bump into them.

standing up, you take another look around. a trail of bloody footsteps leads right up the escalators and you decide that you won't be going there yet. there are a few more bodies, two runners, sitting limp against the crumbling walls as you step down one of the hallways. the broken tiles and the glass cracks below your feet and you cringe at the noise.

never letting go of the axe in your hand, you stroll past the first stores seeing as they're completely ran through. with a sigh, you make your way over to one of the clothing stores. it's almost pitch black in there and you almost jump out of your skin when a mannequin suddenly falls at your feet. muttering out a row of whispered curses, you lower your axe with a shaky breath and adjust your flashlight. the shelves are pretty empty but that was expected; still, when you open up a cupboard door under one of the mannequin stands, you find a stack of perfectly fine sweatshirts. you check the other side of the piece of furniture and find... nothing. scoffing to yourself, you just bag the a sweatshirt and a pair of pants from another shelf before moving to the next store.

glass breaks and you hear shuffling – head whipping towards the sounds, fingers tightly gripping the axe, you take a step back and bump right into the shelf behind you. pieces of clothing fall onto the floor and a cloud of dust rises from the impact; you pay it no mind as your eyes are still glued to the counter, to where the noise came from, but when after a few second absolutely nothing jumps at you, you let your shoulders relax a little.

a stalker, maybe? but they don't tend to live in open spaces like malls, or so you think at least. the majority of them you've ran into in places like office floors and a fucked up basements – meaning they like to lurk everywhere where it's extra dark and where there are places to hide behind. yeah, they do that. little shits, taking cover behind desks and walls, playing a game of hide and seek that you never agreed to. you're never forgiving yourself for taking that wretched route.

you peek over the counter and look all around it but find jack shit. it's the darkness – it's what it does to you, to everybody. the shadows start to speak and move, the floors creak and crumble, and the growths on the wall whisper your name, no matter, how much you tell yourself that they aren't actually doing any of that that.

it's just the old building crying out from loneliness, the haunted ghosts simply looking for company as people pass by, as the infected pass by. you have to keep your head straight. faint blood marks stain the floor but it's too hard to tell whether those've been there for years or less.

you hastily knock on your flashlight when it begins to flicker, leaving you in the dark for just a blink but it's enough to have your heart thumping loudly in your ribcage.

making your way out of the store, you scour for your next location and ah-ha!

a pharmacy.

two bottles of antibiotics rattle in your bag but those aren't enough. you'll always need more of those, you'll always need more of gauze, painkillers, of everything – going in there is a must.

a metal roll-up door closed mid way is going to make this harder, but as if that isn't ominous enough – the quiet cries coming from behind it only makes the situation worse. a runner. but luckily, it isn't making too much noise and you make an educated guess of it not moving around. they do that when there's nothing to catch and tear apart, when nothing has caught their attention. they stay in random spots and whimper and cry to themselves. it makes them an easy prey.

the thought of the metal door sliding shut just as you're trying to pass under it, is making your stomach churn. and so is the thought of you making too much noise by accident and attracting the runner when you're still down on the ground. stop being a pussy. there could be emergency kits in there, pills, there could be a feast of medications in there and you're holding back. it's unacceptable.

you slowly kneel down to the cold floor and inhale sharply before lowering yourself further down. the only light in the room is yours and it immediately finds the twitching runner.

it is cowering in the corner.

you're just fucking glad they don't react to light as much as they do to noise, otherwise you'd be fucked already.

you crawl in the dust as quietly as you can, careful to not touch any of the furniture beside you that seems to be holding up the door. the last thing you'd want is to get locked in here. or get cut in half. you clench your teeth and push yourself up and to your knees the second you can do so and take a second, as you wait for him to turn around and lunge at you. but he doesn't. his back is still turned to you as he waits for you, sobs for you; his body trembling, hands folded in front of his chest – almost like he's hugging himself.

quietly holstering the axe, you pull out your knife instead. it's quieter. you grip the handle, fingers molding into the dents that have formed over time. another step and the light goes out. it's complete darkness. you hear your own heartbeat in your ears and the miserable cries of the infected just a few feet away. your eyes widen as you try to focus on your surroundings. your hands grow clammy in a matter of a few seconds and panic seeps into your body.

you shake the flashlight a few times and it turns back on. your breath is still stuck in your throat as you try to compose yourself. stupid old thing. the light paints the runner's shadow onto the wall in front of him, making it look like he's a part of some shadow play.

one more step and you're with him, a breath away. your hand goes around his chest, holding his hands and body in place as you sink your blade into his neck. it sinks into skin and flesh like butter, soaking you in the dark red ichor that hides underneath as he gurgles something at you (a thank you perhaps).

yanking the knife back out, the splattering ichor coats your skin and you immediately wipe it off against your shirt. his body falls with a thud! and another big dust cloud rises from the contact and your nose itches— it's— it itches— achoo!

your eyes are an inch away from escaping your head as you spin around, making sure that nothing is jumping at you for making a noise that loud. but surely enough, nothing seems to be interested. exhaling deeply, you rub your nose and force down the embarrassment that's crawling on your skin before starting your hunt for supplies.

it doesn't go as well as you'd hoped – only bagging a few stitching kits and a bottle of painkillers. better than nothing.

ecstatic to get the fuck out of a closed, pitch black room, you crawl back out from under the metal door and dust off your clothes.

strolling through some more stores, you're met with more dead infected. two clickers and two runners, no bullet holes. ignoring the corpses, you manage to find yourself a few nice t-shirts, a pack of boxers and a box of 9mm handgun ammo from under the cash register.

when you've gone through most of the wrecked stores on the first floor, you finally decide to take a look upstairs. the bloody footprints haven't left your mind but the fact that it's been so quiet, makes you think that maybe they did really just pass through here.

the moon light your way as you drag yourself up the escalator. the stars in the sky are barely visible because of the dirt on the ceiling window and you frown.

in front of you there are two hallways with stores on the sides and in the middle. the prints lead to the left side and towards the a lonely door at the end of the coridor; the signs on the walls don't indicate what room it might be – a security one, maybe? shaking your head, you focus on the stores ahead of you. the shop in the center is a big sports one; most of the mannequins have fallen over and their limbs are scattered all over the floor, pairless sneakers rest on top of each other and the shelves are a push away from collapsing into tiny little pieces.

stepping over the bloody clothes, you view the baseball caps on the rack when your light goes out again. you feed on the faint moonlight that's coming from the hallways as you scramble to shake the thing again. steps, you swear you heard steps. the last standing mannequins stare at you from the shadows, laughing at your misfortune. a hand touches your hip and you can't hold back the yelp that slips from your lips. you turn and bump into another statue. the light flickers three times before it actually turns on and you find yourself inches from an eerie smile. intinctively, you give it a firm push as you take a step back, hands shaking as the panic settles down once more.

no one else is here. you can't see whoever could've made the noise and by now you're sure that if something or someone is really hiding in the dark – it would've already made a move if it wanted to. stalkers don't play for that long and neither do humans.

a row of protein bars hide in a drawer in the staff room of the store and you happily throw them in your bag, along with some weird looking granola bars.

the right side of the second floor only offers you a new lighter, three pairs of socks, a can of soda, a simple necklace and a broken watch. what's the point of it if you can't tell time? it looks cool. no other reason.

heading over to the left side of the building, you keep a keen eye on the door. the remaining shops are forgotten the closer you get to where the prints lead and you officially commit to checking out the place.

the blade of your axe shines in the moonlight, your steps extra light as you creep up on the door. readying your weapon, you press down on the handle and quietly push it open. it swings all the way and thumps against the wall. the room is lit up, the windows letting in the natural light. you're greeted with rows of computer and tv screens on the tables, three black duffel bags and some lockers and cabinets next to the walls.

you check the corners of the room and let out a relieved sigh when you don't find anything hiding. closing the door, you carefully step around the broken glass on the floor. it seems to be originating from what used to be a glass case showcasing various medals. awards for the best security guards. how silly that sounds now.

the lockers have been cleared out, the only things left behind being two lovely couple's phots with hand-drawn hearts above their heads. you leave them there. the cabinets don't have anything good either. you glance back at the door for good measure before kneeling down in front of one of the bags on the ground. you pull the zipper and are met with treasure – multiple bars of chocolate, the same sweatshirt you found from the floor below, various cans of canned food, two water bottles and a small knife.

your eyes glint and the corners of your lips twitch upward, your body has a mind of its own as it immediately reaches for the chocolate. glass breaks and your eyes flick to the now ajar door as you reach for the gun on your thigh but when you feel the cold metal of a gun barrel resting against your temple... you freeze.

"don't."

...

your stomach drops, eyes glued to the bag in front of you. the voice is deep and it's rasp, confident and sure of himself; the metal against you doesn't move, it doesn't shake.

you hold your trembling hands out, fingers spread to show that you don't have any intention of grabbing your weapons. a deep breath in and a deep one out. you try to turn your head towards him but he just presses the gun deeper into your skin, forcing your gaze right back down.

his big stature looms over your smaller one and you feel like an ant that's about to be stepped on. he lets you soak in the threatening silence, the only sound being your own racing heartbeat.

"s'rude to steal, y'know."

the man doesn't sound angry, he doesn't sound mad or upset. he sounds... annoyed, if anything.

"i asked you a question."

shit.

"i– i wasn't stealing." you stammer out.

he scoffs. "wasn't stealing? just fondling my shit for fun then?"

the teasing tone makes your eyebrows furrow and you try to turn to look at him again, your body slightly raising from your knees but the gun on your head keeps you down. funny, how heavy a piece of metal can suddenly feel.

"it was empty in here! i didn't know these belonged to anyone! i–i'm sorry! i'll leave, i'll leave!" it's a pathetic slur of words accompanied by a pleading tone and you hope that it'll do the trick.

there are strategies for dealing with people and this is simply one of them.

and it does work because the next thing you know, he's lowering the weapon. you let out a shaky breath before turning to him and fuck.

he's... terrifying.

towering over your kneeling body, he's massive. big chest and broad shoulders, he looks like he could snap your neck with his bare hands. the moonlight is only making him more menacing – his dark hair falls in front of his eyes as he stares down at you; there's a scar on his lips and streaks of blood cover his skin, from his cheek to his jaw and down his neck.

dark clothes and a dark jacket – he looks like he belongs in the shadows. the fact that you didn't hear him until it was already too late is making your skin crawl. he probably only let you hear him. for the fun of it.

the terrified look on other's faces can be addicting. the big eyes and the wobbling lips; how they shake and beg – you're no stranger to it, you've had your moments, too.

other than the gun in his hand, there's a second one holstered around his big thigh just like you do. a serrated knife sits his belt and it keeps winking at you, the flashlight reflecting from it as you pull in big breaths of air.

"you're saying i oughta just let you go?" he scoffs, yanking you from your thoughts.

"please..." your stomach grumbles on cue, helping you look meeker than you really are.

you're sure you just saw him wince as he squats down beside you but the thought is brushed away immediately when the man cocks his head to the side and scratches his temple with the barrel of the gun. his scarred lips stretch into a big wolfish grin, showing off his sharp canines and his eyes glint from behind the black strands of hair, making him even scarier now. the big bad wolf.

he's taking you apart with his eyes, dissecting you and your thoughts with a smug expression while you're fending off the waves of fear and try to look as composed as you can. though you feel like it isn't working at all.

"d'ya find anything good from the pharmacy?"

"why were you stalking me?" your bark comes out sharper than you intended and his eyebrows raise an inch, eyes shining with something teasing.

"kind of hard to miss ya when you're making so much noise, sweetheart. and yer in my spot, anyway." he sigh with an eye-roll.

your lips part in a small gasp. "i was not making that much noise! and– and what do you mean 'your spot'? it's a fucking mall, i need things, too!"

"clearly." he motions to the duffel bag resting at your feet and you swallow your next snarky comment.

"sorry."

"what was that?"

just glaring at him, you hate how amused he seems. the fear in you dissipating fast and something akin to annoyance is starting to grow in it's stead.

"i didn't even fucking take anything!"

body leaning forward, fists balled up and eyes on fire – he's thoroughly entertained by your barking and you immediately purse your lips.

"relax, little lamb, will ya? tell me... what'd you find in there?"

you scrunch your nose at the stupid nickname. despite how non-threatening he's being right now - you're still planning on running. you'll give him whatever he wants and you're getting the fuck out of here.

"nothing much. stitching kits and painkillers."

he's hums disappointedly and you can't help but wonder why. is he looking for something in particular? is he hurt? "what do you need?"

"forget it."

"i have antibiotics, if that's what you need."

at that, his ears perk up. "is that so?"

you nod at him.

"well, c'mon then, show me what ya got."

you stare at him for a moment before peeling off one backpack strap. you pull the bag onto your lap and feel his heavy gaze on you as you dig around the thing. it doesn't take you long to find the right bottle, pulling it out and handing it to him.

the floor creaks and it has you both turning towards the sound in an instant. he has the door in his sights but nothing is there. your heart is hammering in your chest again and you can taste the bitter anxiety in the back of your throat again.

you've never seen anyone hold their gun so steady as he does. no shake, no tremble; he's not even really squeezing the thing, he's just holding it. there's no pressure, no anxiety – it's simply an extension to his body. he's comfortable with it, and he looks good with it. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and mixes with the drying blood on his skin before disappearing under his clothes.

his breathing is normal, he's calm as he lowers the gun back down and starts observing the bottle in his other hand. your eyes are still on the door, still wary of the ghosts that lurk around.

the man squints his eyes at the miniature text on the bottle in the dark and you hold back a laugh.

"need me to read it for you, old man?"

"watch your mouth." it's playful at best, no real sternness behind it whatsoever and it makes you roll your eyes. you're about to ask what he actually needs the pills for but something in the corner of your eye draws your attention.

a pair of dull, grey eyes. staring right back at you. dark veins run all over her face and neck, her shoulders and her hands and she peeks from behind the doorframe.

one second. no more, no less. your sharp intake of air gets his attention just as the stalker lunges from the dark hallway, but she is met with a hole in her forehead before she can even take a proper step inside.

small pieces of brain splatter onto the wall behind her and she falls limp to the ground just a few feet from you. he's waiting for another one to pop up, his eyes still glued to the door and you know that this is your moment. he has the meds, so he shouldn't chase you down anyway. you have to go now.

scrambling up from your knees, you try to speed past him but immediately choke when the collar of your own sweatshirt sharply cuts into your airways. his grip on the material is strong and he pulls you right back into him, back into his arms. he's mere inches from your face but before he can do anything else – he feels a blade against his throat.

you really aren't the little lamb he thought you were.

he's comparing you to a feral cub in his head – big wild eyes, snarling and showing your teeth, trying to act tougher than you are, but when the sharp edge of your blade sinks deeper into his skin, he realizes that maybe you're not actually in over your head.

he already expected you to run, he was waiting for that but he thought it'd end up with you you crying and begging or something. he didn't see this coming – you're definitely craftier than he thought, faster too.

"now... why would you do that-"

you don't let him finish. "are you gonna hurt me?"

"you're the one with the knife at my throat. i should be asking you that." he rolls his eyes as your knife grazes the soft skin below his adam's apple and you're thinking about actually cutting him just out of annoyance.

"you have the pills, why not let me go?" you bark back.

"you're hungry, aren't ya?" he questions calmly. his gun hand is lowered, he's not pointing it at you but his other hand stays on your back, fingers still digging into your sweatshirt. it's warm, his body is warm.

"so what? you gonna feed me like some stray cat?"

"y'don't want to eat?" he deadpans.

...

you bite into the soft flesh of your inner cheek. of fucking course, you want to eat.

"y'can take two cans from the bag. i mean, y'were eyeing them anyway."

"why?"

"for being my entertainment tonight."

the blade on his throat finally draws blood and a drop of it runs down his skin, disappearing under his shirt.

"i oughta kill you for putting a gun at my head."

"yeah?" he cocks his head closer to you, the blade moving with him, making a few more droplets dribble from the tiny wound. "go for it, sweetheart."

his eyes are green. they're green like the leaves that sprout from between the cracks in the asphalt on a sunny day, green like the moss that flourishes on the trees in the forest, green like the ivy that is trying to swallow the world. you feel his heart beat a; calm and steady while yours is amped from the sudden proximity. he sounds so arrogant, like he knows you're not going to hurt him.

(you aren't.)

when you lower the knife to push at his broad chest with a scoff instead, he lets you. his hand falls from you as you take a step back, your face now illuminated by the moonlight. scars litter your skin, bumps and cuts – just like him.

"are you done?"

you hum with a pouty lip and put away your knife, eyes following his figure as he holsters his gun before picking up the fallen pill bottle. when he steps by you, he plucks your flashlight from its place on the backpack strap with way too much ease and proceeds to head over to one of the duffel bags that sits on the table behind you, carefully stepping over the broken glass on the floor.

"hey!"

he shushes you and your fists tighten beside your body. you look at the dead body that lays next to the door with a perfectly centered hole in her forehead. the blood pools around it, soaking her clothes and the ground below her.

you used to think about the infected more, used to ponder about how long they've been like that and whether the person they used to be is still... in there.

it doesn't matter.

you've come across people, who talk about not wanting to kill them – what if they really are still in there? but isn't that exactly why one should kill them? you can't even begin to think about how it'd feel to be stuck inside your own body as the infection takes over, making you into something you're not. how it'd force you to tear your loved ones apart just for the sake of it, how you'd turn into a bigger monster with every passing day, every passing second. you just hope that if you were to get infected, you'd still have the mind to end it. or have somebody do it for you.

you don't want to end up like her.

"i didn't realize there were stalkers here." you mumble to yourself as you tear your eyes from her. "other than you, of course. fucking creep."

he starts digging around in one of the bags and you take the moment to really observe him. his back is almost twice your size and you're sure his one bicep is bigger than your whole head.

the man scoffs. "thought i got them all but... oh, well. should've let ya handle it – was your fault anyway."

"how the fuck was that my fault?" your voice raises at his claim and you regret it, knowing exactly what his response will be.

"you are fucking loud, sweetheart."

"fuck you."

he just hums out a mhmmm. he pulls a piece of paper out of his bag and uses your flashlight to examine the text on it. his eyes. he waves at you over his shoulder. "you know where the cans are."

simply scoffing as a reply, you kneel back down to the bag but his voice cuts in again.

"and don't you dare take that chocolate." he doesn't even turn around, completely focused on comparing the information on the paper to the info on the bottle of pills. you roll your eyes again and curse him under your breath. "i wasn't gonna take your stupid fucking chocolate..."

when you've bagged your goodies, you push yourself up again. the trees dancing in the wind outside catch your eye, they look so carefree. just living from the sun and the moon and the rain, they have nothing to fear. nobody will harm them, no infected, no people. you can't wait for nature to take back everything it deserves. the cities and the buildings; it'll swallow the corpses and the living alike and you're happy for her.

he rustles with the paper, twisting it around a few times and you're about to ask what he's looking for but he cuts you off.

"why not make a run for it earlier?"

you stare at his back with a confused look. "what do you mean?"

"you gave me the pills and then tried to run. antibiotics are hard to find, y'know." he sounds curious. or patronizing.

"i know that... i had to wait for the right moment." you admit, fiddling with your fingers. "i was going to give them to you anyway, old man."

"not a lot going on in that little head of yours, huh?"

...

you let his audacity waft over you before biting back. "oh, i'm sorry... for... being a... good person?"

he turns around and leans his ass against the table, folding his arms over his big chest as he mocks you with his annoying smug grin. "i pointed a gun at you and you still wanna share your little precious belongs with me? that's cute, i guess."

"yeah. you just look like you fucking need them, alright...."

"so, you agree that you're a fucking idiot?"

your lips part in shock. "hey! look– do you want anything else or can i go now?"

"can i have my flashlight back?"

"no."

"wha— " you take a step toward the man and he raises his brows. "but it's mine! how do you expect me to go outside without it?"

"no manners whatsoever."

huh?

your jaw drops again. "excuse me? wha– what's that supposed to mean?"

"first, i catch you stealing— "

"i already apologized for that— "

"—then you try to kill poor old little me, and now you're asking for things without the magic word... tsk-tsk-tsk." he closes his eyes and shakes his head in disappointment.

"i'm not gonna fucking beg for my own flashlight back, bitch."

...

he barks out a laugh.

a loud one, from deep within his stomach. his head falls back and a pout forms on your lips, heat crawls up your neck involuntarily and you avert your gaze. "you're terrible, just terrible, sweetheart."

he takes your prized light and tosses it to you before pulling out his own from behind his back. you flip him off. "funny though, i'll give ya that..."

you grumble a yeah, thanks under your breath as he blinks the light at you twice. "may i go now?"

he stares at you before answering. "yes, you're dismissed."

at that, you knock your heels together and sharply bring your right hand to your temple – imitating a military salutation. "yes, sir!"

something sweet.

he tastes something sweet on his tongue. he wipes the drying blood from his neck and his cheeks hurt.

you're some random feral cub and yet, you've peaked his interest like nothing else. no cries and no wails, no begging and no tears – scared but alive. ready to part with valuable meds just because he apparently looks like he needs them. tch! growling at him even though he's caught you red handed, cutting him even though you weren't in danger anymore.

he hasn't felt this alive in a long time, either.

"don't let me see you again, old man."

playful, at best. you're matching his tone and the corners of his lips are reaching back behind his ears. you bite your inner cheek; despite everything – he's the most normal person you've met since the end of the world. he's not mean nor is he aggressive; everybody points a gun at a stranger these days. he made jokes and he gave you supplies – it's more than anyone has done for you in a while.

you look at the wolf in the shadow and he looks at the lamb in the moonlight. the wolf that offers food and protection and the lamb that cuts and steals.

the wolf that bleeds and the lamb that holds the blade.

516 notes · View notes

seonghwaddict · 3 months

Text

ateez’s favourite positions — masterlist

requested by anon. genre. hc, smut rating. mature. warnings. sexual content mdni, various sex positions, nicknames n stuff. wc. 768.

[ lilo’s notes . . . ] thank you for requesting~ i had to do research for this and like… why are there so many names for the same positions??? and some of these are such weird obscure names i genuinely stared at my screen so blankly cuz who came up with these- not only that but some of the positions i saw looked SO UNCOMFORTABLE??? anyways, moving on and if you aren’t familiar with these position… i suggest looking them up because i will NOTTTTT be providing any links 😁

hongjoong

face sitting. when he says sit on his face he means sit on it. he likes how his mouths drives you wild and how you have to stop yourself from just grinding on his face—he’d lift you for like two seconds to encourage you to do just that. and you see that couch in his studio? yeah i’m not gonna elaborate.

“baby, sit.”

seonghwa

missionary. when he’s not torturing you with his tongue, he likes to fuck you deep and slow. missionary may sound very plain, but occasionally he’ll throw in a blindfold or some restraints. almost if the time, though, he wants it to be just you and him. he likes this position so he can see your face clearly, watching the way you unravel with each frustratingly slow grind of his hips.

“hm, look at you… so pretty and all for me.”

yunho

backseat driver. he’s not very picky about positions, but he does like having you in his lap while he’s gaming. whether it’s him ending a game badly and needing relief right there or you wanting to tease and distract him, he will always revel in the subtle arch of your back and bounce of your tits, having to keep both you and himself quiet when he’s on a call and playing with his friends.

“keep it down, yeah? we don’t want everyone to hear you like this, now do we?”

yeosang

leap frog. he’s an ass guy idc what ANYONE says. if you’re telling me he won’t stare at the way your ass bounces against pelvis, you’re dead wrong. he likes to reach over and give your clit some attention too. yeosang also leans down to kiss your back sweetly while also fucking you like his life depends on it. guys i am DEEP in yeosang brain rot rn if i continue i fear i won’t be able to stop.

“get your face out of that pillow, pretty girl. let me hear you.”

san

spooning. i think that, yes, occasionally he’d like to be rough, but i will NEVER back down from my soft dom!san agenda. in this position, he’s able to hold you and keep you warm and make you feel good all over. the technicalities(?) of spooning you feels good for the two of you—your thighs pressed together making your walls hug him tighter. this is also a good position for him to gently fuck you to sleep at the end of the day. also: comforting kisses all over your shoulders and the back of your neck… he just wants to make you feel nice and comfortable and keep you safe in his arms :(

“just relax, baby… you know i’ll take care of you.”

mingi

tabletop. if no one’s around, he’ll risk taking you right on the kitchen counter. if that’s not possible, he’ll lick the bedroom door and sweep any items off his desk and take you there. there’s something about seeing you say somewhere and being the one standing between your legs and coaxing orgasm after orgasm out you that makes his insides feel all hot and tingly. this also give the two of you good access to kiss each other all over your torsos.

“i’ve got you, doll, just give me one more, i know you can do it.”

wooyoung

ballet dancer. specifically against a wall, or door, or window, or- you get the point. any vertical surface will do. one hand on your waist or breast or neck and the other hitching your thigh around his hips. sometimes he’ll be fucking you so well, your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders or chest—he really likes that.

“does that feel good, jagi? yeah? i’ll keep doing that then, but make sure i can hear those pretty sounds, hm?”

jongho

cowgirl. don’t be fooled, though you may be on top, he’s still in control. he lets you fuck yourself on his dick for a bit and when you close, he’ll flip you over so quickly you get whiplash. but that’s on days where he’s feeling like a menace. other than that, he does actually love the sight of you on top of him, claiming him as yours. he doesn’t have a preference for sitting or laying down, he’s perfectly happy as long he can see your fucked out and desperate face.

“there you go… you take me so well…”

　　[ networks ... ] @cromernet @wonderlandnet

　　[ perm taglist — open ... ] @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo

475 notes · View notes

sexydoffyman · 9 months

Note

Hi! So this is my first time requesting,, I have COD brain rot and I had this idea I thought you might like.

Forced proximity with Simon ghost Riley x male reader :D!!

If it’s spicy I’d absolutely love hair pulling and soft praise,, reader being bottom please! I don’t mind if it’s smut or not tho 🫶

IN THE TRUNK

navigation

genre: smut

A/N: Sup. I did the praise thing, but I couldn't find a way to add the hair-pulling. Enjoy! 🦆

You guys were on a mission together. Everything went well until it didn't. One of the soldiers got wounded and wasn't able to run. And with Ghost in charge of the mission, the rule "No man left behind" was never forgotten.

Ghost picked the wounded soldier up, but by that time, the enemy soldiers had caught up. Everyone scattered. Soon, there was no other option than to abort the mission.

Ghost commanded the team to run to the trucks that were hidden in a nearby forest. He threw the soldier to someone else and started looking for you. Hoping you were left unharmed.

He only met you a couple of days ago, but you caught his eye. You were an important asset to the team. You were smaller, so you could sneak around better and fit through places no one else could. You were also an amazing strategist and interrogator.

And for some reason, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

The way your smaller, flexible body moved when you dodged knife throws. The way you looked at him when everything was going exactly how it was supposed to go. The way you laid your head on his shoulder when you were exhausted.

You quickly found yourself messing with his pheromones. He felt like he needed to have you in his grasp and he didn't understand why. He wanted to touch you. He wanted to taste you. He wanted to make sure you are alright.

Your small size also resulted in you being a little slower than the others. He was aware of that, so he wasn't surprised when you had trouble catching up with the rest of the team.

He ran to you and picked you up bridal style. He ran fast even when carrying you. You being smaller helped him a lot since you were also lighter. He ran with you, seeing the last truck waiting for him and anyone else.

A few soldiers jumped into the car, and Ghost signaled the driver to start moving. The truck slowly took off as Ghost caught up with it, opening the trunk and jumping in it with you in his arms.

You closed the trunk from the inside. Ghost looked at you while gasping for air. You gave him a sweet smile knowing that the whole team is safe. "That damn smile." He thought. That damn smile that messed with him so much.

He squeezed into a slightly larger part of the trunk. You both look at each other awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. Ghost had his leg in front of him, managing to hide his erection. He would be really embarrassed if you caught him thinking like that about you.

The truck ran over a rather large speed bump. You were almost thrown at Ghost ending in your back smacked against his abs. You ended up being pushed into his lap by the way the truck moved.

There, you felt it. You felt the bulge in Ghost's pants. He wanted to get you off him to avoid being embarrassed even more. Instead, he grabbed your waist and pushed you closer to him. He knew the truck would still be moving rather roughly, and he didn't want you to get injured.

When the ride calmed down again you looked at him. "Don't talk about it." He almost barked out. "Being distracted like this won't do you any good in the field, sir." "Would you want me to help you out?"

He was blushing hard under his mask. "Sergeant, I am in no way attracted to you." He said defensively. "Then why are still holding me?" You questioned. He would think that you were teasing him, but your innocent eyes made him realize that you were genuine.

He sighed "Pants down, sergeant!" He commanded. "You're lucky these trunks are soundproof." He muttered against your neck. You slipped your pants down to your thighs he followed your movements.

"You sure you can take this?" He asked, grabbing your hips with the hand that was over you. "Yes, sir!" You answered and adjusted your body so he could slide his other arm under you and push you closer to his chest.

He didn't wait a second when he got an agreement out of you and thrusted his dick straight into your ass. You gave out a little whimper. He grabbed your chin to look away from him. You wondered why he did that only to feel his lips on your neck.

He took off his mask to kiss you.

Your stomach filled with butterflies as he started thrusting into you roughly. With each thrust, you let out a whimper. He stretched you out so good. "Good boy... keep... making those sounds." He stuttered struggling.

He didn't know it would feel so good. He just had to make sure you knew how happy he was. "You are such a good boy for me sergeant." "You feel so good." He was bruising your neck as he sucked on the skin.

He started hitting your prostate head-on which made you switch from whimpering to moaning. That made him go feral. He could feel himself getting close to seeing stars. He thrusted last time into you and filled you with his cum.

He didn't want to leave you unfinished, since you did so good. He grabbed your dick jerking it off until you came into his hand.

You both panted trying to catch your breaths. "Sergeant!" "Yes, sir?" "Just letting you know if I'm ever distracted again, I'll go straight to you."

You chuckled knowing that you signed up for a hell of a ride.

#call of duty #cod x you #cod x male reader #cod x reader #ghost x male reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #requests are open #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x male reader #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley smut

781 notes · View notes

heavenlyvision · 6 months

Text

While hell freezes over

Word count: 10.4k

Pairing: Bi-Han x F!Reader

This is a part three to my 'When hell freezes over' series, parts linked in order below :3

part one, part two

A/N: Even longer fic this time guys! I got carried away :3 thank you all for the continued support, kind words and patience! I hope this is satisfactory and lives up to expectations. And well… if you thought Bi-Han went off in the last one, then, I dunno what to tell you about this one. I have a few requests I’d like to get through before I start the next part, if you’ve sent me one and think I’ve been ignoring it, I haven’t, I see it! I have plans and ideas for them. I’ve just been writing 10k words of Bi-Han brain rot but trust me, I’m on it :)

Summary: Someone heard you last night, an embarrassing conversation ensues, and the day doesn’t get better from there. You find yourself in a compromising position and Bi-Han does not appreciate it, he finds himself needing to remind you of who you belong to.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, squirting, inappropriate use of Bi-Han’s ice powers, possessive!Bi-Han, jealous!Bi-Han, pussy slapping (more like tapping), inappropriate use of Bi-Hans official title, return of mean Bi-Han, slight Soft!Bi-Han, no use of y/n

It’s early when you wake up wrapped up in Bi-Han’s arms, he never gave you the chance to leave last night and now you have to figure out how to get out of the room without anyone seeing you. Carefully, you try to wiggle yourself free from his large arms.

“Trying to sneak away?” Bi-Han’s voice is deeper than usual, thick with sleep.

Looking at him, you can see both of his eyes are still closed. Too tired to be bothered to open them.

“Not really… I mean… kind of?” You reply bashfully at getting caught.

He grumbles softly, too tired to answer you properly.

Waking up in his arms has you feeling some kind of way, he’s surprisingly warm, he makes you feel safe, and the low timbre of his voice is making you feel fuzzy. It all feels so domestic, and it makes you feel like your heart is about ten times too big for your ribcage, threatening to spill out of your chest.

The feeling is foreign, you’ve never cared so deeply for someone, it’s frightening in all honesty. You have no idea what to do with the sheer force of your feelings, so you settle for leaning up slightly and pressing a chaste kiss to Bi-Han’s lips.

His reaction is another soft grumble, before he pulls you closer. Your face resting under his chin. You allow the moment to last, never wanting to leave it but knowing the longer you wait the harder sneaking back to your own room will be.

“I have to leave; someone will catch me if I wait any longer.” You’re trying to convince him to release you from his firm grip.

“Don’t care,” either he really doesn’t care or he’s too tired to try.

“Bi-Han, I came over last night in nothing but my robe.”

He lets out a long groan, an internal battle exiting through it, sharing his disdain for you having to leave but also disliking the possibility of someone seeing you wearing only a robe.

“Jus wear some of my clothes.” He shrugs, rustling you a bit as he does.

“I’m like nowhere near your size and people will be able to tell I am wearing your clothes.” You feel like this back and forth will never end.

He’s smiling, “why are you smiling?” You ask him, this isn’t funny.

“Like the idea of someone seeing you in my clothes.” He’s still not opened his eyes for this conversation, still in the same position, holding you close.

It’s your turn to let out a grumble, “you are the one who initially said no one could know we were sleeping together.”

“Two things can be true at once.” Is his simple, smart-ass reply.

Best bet of getting out of this situation is to distract him, you lean up again and kiss him. He kisses you back, moving his hand down to rest on your bare hip. He pulls your lower half towards his, he’s already hard and that surprises you slightly. It shouldn’t, you swear he could look at you fully clothed and get hard.

Your thoughts are abruptly distracted when the hand on your hip skates down to your leg, pulling it over his hip. His cock slides through your folds, the light contact of it gliding over your clit has you gasping into his mouth. He lets out an appreciative hum at your reaction, this is bad, you think he might be distracting you now.

Pulling your lips from his you tell him, “Bi-han, I really do need to leave.”

He pulls another gasp from you as he continues to rock his hips, eyes open now and heavy with sleep and lust.

“Hmm, that’s funny, I don’t think you need to leave.”

And then suddenly, there’s a knock on his door. Bi-Han’s face immediately scrunches up in annoyance, his distaste at the intrusion makes you smile before you purse your lips; trying to hide your amusement.

He holds a finger up to your mouth, before he whispers to you, “Be quiet.”

You nod your head in response to him before licking the length of his finger, he gives you a heated gaze. Equally annoyed and turned on.

“Bi-Han, hurry up, I know you are in there,” It’s Kuai-Liang’s voice.

He grunts at his brother, “Give me a moment.” He rolls his eyes as he moves to let you go and get himself out of bed. You’re still smiling at his annoyance, he’s a bit of a drama queen, you think.

After he’s out of the bed you flip onto your stomach, pulling the blanket to properly cover your bottom half. Your arms slide under the pillow, pulling it closer, you press the side of your face into it. Facing Bi-Han as he pulls his robe from last night back on, tying it in the front quickly.

You can’t help but watch as he moves to the door, he stands in the way of you before opening the door a crack, shielding your form from Kuai’s sight. From where you are laying you can only see Bi-Han’s back, a very nice view indeed. You flop your head back onto the pillows, neck sore from craning it to watch him walk across the room.

“What do you want?” Bi-Han is straight to the point.

“Good morning to you too, Bi-Han.” Comes Kuai Liang’s unbothered response.

Bi-Han says nothing further but you’re guessing it’s more than likely he’s pinned him with an annoyed look.

Your theory gains more merit when Kuai Liang continues speaking, “It is getting later in the morning, Lui Kang asked to see us today, remember?”

“I remember.” Bi-Han is also unbothered.

You roll your eyes a bit, he has a meeting with the Fire God, defender of Earthrealm, Lord Lui Kang and he’s wasting his time in bed with you. Like meeting with Lui Kang is the least important thing he has to do today. It makes you feel soft and gooey inside, like you’re special and you’re suddenly struck with the realisation that, perhaps, to him you are special.

Kuai lets out an exasperated sigh, already sick of this conversation, “also, Bi-Han, if you’re going to have…” there’s a palpable silence before he continues on, “…guests you should at least try to be more discrete.”

You feel lightening go through you, you shoot up from your position on the bed; now sitting with your knees tucked under you. Eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

Bi-Han grunts a little at his brother, he doesn’t get to ask Kuai Liang how he knows, he’s already telling you both, “You were both, not quiet, and my room is close.” He’s a little bashful as he informs you both.

“Does anyone else know?” You ask Kuai.

“As far as I know, no, I don’t imagine they would. The others rooms are further away.” He considers his words for a moment, not looking you in the eyes, which confuses you. He continues, “Tomas might have heard, but he is usually a heavy sleeper.”

You ruminate on the layout of the quarters for a moment, Bi-Han and his brothers are clumped together, yours are further away from all the men, hence the sneaking through the temple to get here, and the rest of the guys are further from Bi-Han’s room. They’re still in the same area but not as close, which you are grateful for right this moment. You think if Johnny were the one to hear you both, you’d die of embarrassment on the spot, he would not be able to keep it a secret and if he did, it would only be to torture you for his own amusement.

Bi-Han turns around to look at you, his eyes go wide, “cover yourself!”

You look down at yourself and realise the blanket is around your waist, you’re shocked but you also find Bi-Han’s reaction funny.

Giggling nervously, you pull it up over your chest, “Sorry, Kuai Liang.” You’re holding back a smile as you apologise.

“It’s fine.” Kuai brushes you off, a slight pink tinge visible on his cheeks.

“No, it is not,” Bi-Han groans out, “You’re gonna kill me I swear.”

You smile at him, “Sorry, Bi-Han.”

He grunts at you before facing his brother again, “Is that all?”

“Don’t be rude, invite him in.”

You imagine Bi-Han has made a disgruntled face at your words but invites his brother in all the same.

You’re certain Kuai has some questions and considering he was forced to listen to you both last night, answers are the least you can do for him at the moment. Bi-Han shuts the door behind his brother before picking up your robe and moving to face you. He slips your arms through it and closes it over you properly, dressing you while hiding your frame from his brother. Not that it would matter, Kuai Liang is being very polite and looking up at the ceiling as Bi-Han dresses you.

“You can look now,” you tell Kuai gently.

Bi-Han cuts in, “It would be preferable if you stayed staring at the ceiling though.”

“Ignore him,” you lightly poke Bi-Han in the side, and he slaps your hand away gently.

Kuai Liang answers you and ignores Bi-Han’s comment, “I normally do.”

You chuckle at his response, very much brothers, you think. Kuai finds a chair and pulls it up for himself to sit in, both Bi-Han and yourself stay sitting side by side on the bed.

With the way things are going you suspect they would both just stare at each other all morning, engaged in an unspoken staring contest.

You decide to interrupt their wordless conversation, “I am sure you must have questions, Kuai. We will answer any you may have.”

“No, we won’t.” Bi-Han deadpans.

You give him a side eye, but he stays staring at his brother, trying to tell him it is not okay to ask questions.

Kuai Liang carries on anyways, having mastered the art of ignoring his brother, “This is… not the first time you both have…?” He trails off but you know what he is asking.

Bi-Han is quick to hit him with, “None of your business–”

“–It is not the first time, no.” You cut off Bi-Han, answering the question.

“When did it start?” He carries on.

You think on it for a second, it feels like so much longer, but it’s only been, “about a week.”

Kuai considers his next question carefully, “is it just… do you two like each other?”

You aren’t really sure how to answer that, you know you like Bi-Han, and he likes you, but you’ve not actually spoken about what this is between you both, or how you would define it to others.

Surprisingly and thankfully, Bi-Han answers that, “yes.”

His admission of liking you to a third party makes your insides giddy and you smile softly to yourself.

Kuai Liang looks a little shocked by his brother, whether it be his admission or just liking someone in general you aren’t sure, but he says, “I guess that explains why you were staring at her.”

You laugh a little at that, but Bi-Han predictably replies with, “I don’t stare.” You say it in tandem with him, much to his chagrin. “I don’t like when you do that.” Bi-Han directs at you.

You’re still amused, “I don’t like when you don’t admit to obvious truths.”

He rolls his eyes at you, something you’ve found yourself growing fond of. Now enjoying annoying him just to see him either roll his eyes or raise an eyebrow at you.

“We are trying to keep this from everyone else, so it would be appreciated if you didn’t tell the others.” You tell Kuai Liang.

“What she means is, I will hurt you.” Bi-Han threatens.

You jab him lightly in his ribs with your elbow, he is unphased, your action not even moving him.

Kuai nods his head anyways, once again paying his brother no mind, “I will not tell anyone, but it would be better if you both tried… keeping it down.”

You look as guilty as you feel, Bi-Han has no shame though, “Don’t listen, then.”

“It was not intentional!” Kuai looks annoyed and flustered.

“Bi-Han, we should’ve been more aware of those around us.” You tell him quietly.

His face is pulled up in a scowl, he shoots you a dark look, one that tells you something you already know. He likes when you’re loud in bed, and he isn’t going to stop fucking you till you scream. He does not care that others will hear, and knowing someone did hear, changes nothing for him.

You determine that you will have to talk with him privately because you would really rather the others not hearing you getting your brains fucked stupid.

“He can buy some ear plugs,” Bi-Han shrugs.

“Not the issue right now,” you’re incensed with him, he’s being intentionally dense again.

Kuai looks between the both of you, he seems lightly amused by you both. He goes to talk again, “In any case, those are my most burning questions, we have to meet with Lui Kang.”

He makes a move to stand up, “Now, or we will be late, Bi-Han.”

Bi-Han looks irritated, he closes his eyes and huffs out a sigh, “I know, I will be with you both shortly.”

Kuai goes to complain about him being late again, but you stop him, “It’s okay Kuai, I’ve got it.”

“Thank you,” he replies before slipping back out the room, on his way to meet with Lui Kang.

You turn to face Bi-Han on the bed properly, “We were not careful, that is our fault.”

“He should have minded his own business.”

“He did us a favour by informing us, now, get changed properly, you apparently have a meeting today.” You smile up at him, that whole conversation was beyond embarrassing, but you can’t seem to mind right now. The morning had been perfect otherwise and considering the alternatives, Kuai being the one who overheard you both is a blessing in disguise.

He flops back on the bed, “I do not want to go to the meeting, I wanted to stay here, in bed with you.”

“You know I have training today anyways; I would’ve had to leave.” You’re trying to reason with him.

But Bi-Han knows no reason when it comes to you, “fairly certain I could have convinced you to stay in bed with me.” He props himself up by his forearm, the shadow of a smirk on his lips.

Leaning down you quickly peck his lips before getting off his bed, stretching your sore muscles. “You have the biggest ego I have ever seen on someone.”

“Not just my ego that is big,” he retorts.

You ignore his cockiness; it will somehow end up with you back in his arms if you do. Instead, you walk into his bathroom, rinsing your face and using the toilet.

When you emerge, he is half dressed, wearing his pants. He looks up at you when you exit, “I will walk you back to your room,” he offers.

“It isn’t on the way to Lui Kang, you will be late.”

“It will be fine; I’d rather see you get back unseen and safe.” He says as he walks into the bathroom himself.

When he’s back in your view you watch him finish dressing himself, pulling his hair back quickly into his signature bun. He looked breathtaking with his hair down, remembering last night makes you blush. Mindlessly you continue to watch Bi-Han get himself ready.

His eyes catch yours and he walks towards you, leaning down to you he asks, “Why are you blushing?”

“No reason,” you smile at him, kissing him on the nose.

He hums softly, “I’m sure.”

He turns to put his boots on, when they’re on he looks back at you, reaching his hand out. You take it and he pulls you to him, he gives you a heated kiss. The kind he gives you just to take your breath away and leave you wanting more.

When he pulls back, he says to you, “Come on, sweet girl.”

You pull him in for a hug, feeling the need to hold him close for a moment. He allows it, rubbing his hands up and down your back. Soothing you, it’s another intimate moment that has you feeling warm.

When you pull back you say, “okay, I’m ready now.”

He smiles at you curiously but you both walk out of his room and head toward your own, you are grateful for the company on the walk back. You are also grateful that he shows you a path less crowded, avoiding anyone who might be up and around.

Both of you remain unseen, but Bi-Han is particularly alert to your surroundings as you walk back regardless. It makes you feel safe, having him keep a watchful eye. For the first time in a while, you don’t feel like you have to be attuned to everything around you and you’re thankful for it.

Now that you are both alone you broach the topic of being more alert of your volumes while in the throes of passion, “we should be more careful Bi-Han, it’s embarrassing to me that Kuai heard us last night.”

He sighs, “Mmm, you may try to be quieter, but I doubt you will be successful.”

“I will be quieter, next time.” You feel determined now, as if he issued you a challenge.

He hums thoughtfully, “we will see.”

The rest of the walk is pleasant, albeit electric. You want him badly, but you’re aware of what is important right now. He has a meeting, and you have training, you kept repeating this to yourself as a reminder.

In front of your room, you look both ways before leaning up and kissing him, you go to pull away, but his mouth follows yours. He groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss for a brief moment before ultimately pulling back himself.

You’re a touch out of breath as you say, “thank you, for walking me back to my room.”

“You are most welcome, sweet girl.” His hand reaches to your cheek, thumb rubbing your cheekbone. He double checks the area and then leans in again, pressing a quick peck to your lips that you return.

“I will see you later.”

And then he’s gone, walking back the way you came. Yes, this morning had been perfect indeed.

❆˖°

Lucky for you, you are not late to training. Even though you had to spend extra time finding a shirt with a neck high enough to cover the hickey’s you had forgotten Bi-Han had given you. The very orange training outfit sits on top of the borderline turtleneck you’re wearing under it.

As you walk through the Fire Temple, you realise that Kuai would have seen your skin littered with marks earlier and that makes you feel so fucking embarrassed. It’s bad enough that he heard you last night, it’s worse that he saw obvious evidence of it. You try to push it out of your mind, the damage is done now anyways.

Though when you walk into the training area, you are praying that no one asks you questions about the turtleneck, it’s sleeveless so it’s just the neck poking out from under your shirt. You aren’t sure if that’s more suspicious though, maybe you should’ve just worn make up, or are you overthinking again? Probably the last option.

If you’re being honest, this orange outfit is very bright. Not your personal tastes, you feel like a large, well… orange. Or maybe a traffic cone. If you had your own pick, you would be wearing something else, but you also find it cute how you’re all matching.

“Happy morning, boys!” You call out to everyone, is that a phrase people use? Are you too chipper? Do you usually behave like this? You’re very self-conscious after Kuai Liang heard everything last night.

You’ve been taking it like a champ but if you find out one more person heard you, you might cry on the spot.

“Happy morning?” Kenshi asks.

“Yeah, it’s the same as good morning, I don’t understand your confusion.” It’s not something you’ve said or heard other people say before, so you do understand his confusion actually, your nervousness is turning you into a gas lighter.

They all stand there looking at you like you’re boo boo the fool, Raiden breaks the awkward silence, “…happy morning to you too.”

You are going to explode into a shower of blood rain, you need to get it together. You’d think it’s your first day on Earth.

Thankfully, Johnny also brushes right past your weirdness, “you ready to face me today, darlin?”

Ah, you’re sparring against each other today, you had forgotten. Sparring against Johnny isn’t necessarily something you’re worried about, it’s the fact that you got fucked into next week and your muscles are yelling at you. Today is gonna be one bitch of a day.

You don’t falter though, “you know it, I’ll be taking you down, Hollywood.” That felt more normal, pats on the back for you.

You guess Johnny just signed you both up for going first. A new problem has formed of this situation though, if you let him get the upper hand you can bow out while he spars with the next person, which means you could take it easy for the first half of training. However, you are competitive and don’t want to throw the round. Which, if you manage to out manoeuvre him, will mean you continue to spar with the next person.

This exercise is meant to be light-hearted, hand to hand sparring. Learning to get a feel against a real opponent. You’re going to have to make a real attempt to not be so competitive. Afterall, this isn’t a competition. It’s a sparring exercise.

Both you and Johnny move over to a clear area and position yourselves in the official defensive stances you’ve been taught. Something that does not come naturally to you, you’ve had previous fighting experience, and it contradicts the methods you’re being taught while here.

He moves at you first, kicking out and aiming at your side, very predictable of him. You move back at the kick, dodging it. He continues to move closer towards you, a right hook coming at you, you duck down and punch his side, throwing off his centre of balance slightly. You move, rounding him until you’re facing his back. You kick the back of his knee, and he goes down.

His palms stop him from faceplanting into the ground, you step on his back pushing him down further. You drop on him and bring your arms around his neck, putting him in a chokehold. His arms come up to yours wrapped around his neck and try pulling you off. You’re being careful not to actually apply any pressure to his neck but you’re holding firm in your position. Pulling back on him slightly, his back bends.

His hands give up on trying to pull out of the choke hold and instead he flops to the ground properly. He rolls taking you with him, you imagine it’s quite the scene to watch. Laying all of his weight on you manages to loosen your grip around his neck and he takes the opportunity to quickly switch around so he’s facing you.

He has the upper hand now and he’s pinning your arms to the ground by your wrists, “Wanna tap out, sugar?”

Such a flirt, you think, “I don’t think so, sugar.”

It hurts a bit as you do it, due to the fact you were in this kind of position under very different circumstances last night. You reach your legs up, and knee his stomach slightly as you do, giving yourself more room to move. They continue up and through his arms that are pinning you down. Manoeuvring them around his neck and clamping down. Using the momentum, you’ve gained to sway him to the side.

Once you’re on top again, your thighs are by his head, or more accurately, squeezing his neck. You lean your upper half back slightly and grab his wrists in both of your hands, pulling his arms back behind you to pin him to the spot. Thighs holding him in place.

The position is unorthodox, something that you were not taught during your time here, but you didn’t want him to win. Not that you’re being competitive or anything.

You look down at him and he wiggles his eyebrows, “I don’t mind this position.” He has a shit eating grin on his face.

You shake your head at him, “Does that mean you’re tapping out?”

“If I do, can we stay like this?” His question filled with suggestion; he is very bold.

“I am not releasing you until you tap out.” Your gaze filled with nothing but the desire to win.

His grin gets wider, a full-blown smile now, “then I don’t tap out.”

“Johnny, c’mon,” your voice is laced with a pleading annoyance.

He tries to supress his smile but fails, you can hear the guys off to the side groaning too. You look to them for support. “Guys, help?”

Kung Lao looks at you with an apologetic albeit amused face, “I don’t know what you want me to do here, just let him up.”

You make an unhappy face at Kung Lao and look back down at Johnny, “just tap out man, I need to hear you say you concede.”

“I don’t.” He says cheekily.

You roll your eyes at him but then you feel it, the tell-tale sign that Bi-Han is staring at you. A shiver running down your spine, one that you’ve learnt to suppress the outward signs of.

Looking up, you lock eyes with Bi-Han, he’s off to the side, Lui Kang, Kuai Liang, and Tomas with him. He’s giving you angry eyes; you aren’t really concerned with why right now though. You are concerned with winning.

You continue to pin Johnny, unwilling to let him up until he admits defeat, but it’s almost like an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

“Johnny, just say you tap out.” You ask him again.

“He does,” comes Bi-Han’s booming voice from above, cutting off anything Johnny was about to say. He had moved closer surprisingly quick.

“Hey man, I can speak for myself,” he looks up to Bi-Han.

This whole situation is ridiculous, you look over to Kuai and he looks very on edge. Bi-Han’s eyes look like he’s considering various way to commit murder right now.

Johnny looks up at you, ignoring Bi-Han, “I concede.” He smiles at you.

“Thank you,” you sigh, moving to unpin him and get up.

He keeps smiling at you, laying on the floor, “you can stay where you are though if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes at him, “In your dreams, Hollywood.”

When you’re off him, you lean down and offer him your hand, helping him off the floor. You found it all quite funny if you’re honest, but by the look on Bi-Han’s face, he did not. Not by a long shot.

“Alright, who do you want to spar against next, sugar?” Johnny asks.

You laugh, “that’s all you, I need a break after putting up with you.”

He chuckles at your response but points at Kenshi, “C’mon tattoo, you’re up.”

Kenshi lets out a sigh and rolls his eyes at Johnny, already reaching his limit for putting up with him for today. That’s a new record, Kenshi can normally put up with him until lunch.

You walk off to the side and move to stand beside Kuai Liang, Bi-Han follows behind you, and he stops when you do. You’re sandwiched between the two of them right now, you feel nervous, like you’re in trouble with the principle or something. Lui Kang and Tomas are next to Kuai Liang on his other side.

The position you had Johnny in was compromising, sure, you can see that. But on the other hand, you literally had him in a choke hold. You were sparring with him and trying to win, you’re missing something that would make Bi-Han’s borderline repressed rage make sense for you.

Lui Kang breaks the tension, “very impressive, how you took him down, I am sorry to have missed most of it.”

“Thank you, if only he didn’t enjoy it so much, I’d take more pride in it.” You tell Lui Kang, though you’re grateful for the compliment.

You had felt pretty proud of yourself at the takedown of a man larger than yourself, especially when your muscles are sore and achy today, but that was a little undone when Bi-Han was emitting murderous vibes.

“I don’t think he can help himself,” Lui Kang says in reference to Johnny.

You snicker a bit at Lui Kang’s statement, you don’t think Johnny can help himself either, but he seems kind-hearted. The friendships you’ve created amongst everyone here are very important to you, and most important to you is Bi-Han.

Your hand is itching to reach out for him, but you feel like he’s cross with you, and you aren’t up for the embarrassment of him possibly pulling away from you right now. Not after such a good morning with him, waking up in his arms is what has kept you so positive today.

Looking up at him you try and decipher what he’s thinking right now, his face has fallen back into his usual stoic look. Though he is staring at Johnny, eyes alight with thinly veiled anger.

You turn to your other side and look at Kuai Liang, he meets your eyes and leans down to whisper to you, “he has never been good at sharing.”

Oh. Oh.

It’s clicked for you; you knew he was angry, but you didn’t know exactly why. It was just a training exercise, one you were trying to win however you could, but to Bi-Han it might have looked different.

You whisper back to Kuai, “thanks.”

He nods once at you before looking forward again, watching Kenshi and Johnny spar. It is quite the sight, they’re a bit less restrained than what your round with Johnny was. You don’t know if that’s because Kenshi is actually trying to harm Johnny or because you’re a woman and they go easy on you. That stings a little if it’s the latter, you deserve the respect of a proper fight.

You go to move closer to Raiden and Kung Lao, planning to re-join the training but Bi-Han’s hand grabs onto your wrist. Keeping you in place beside him, it makes your heart flutter. He pulls away fairly quickly, not lingering for too long, for fear of the others seeing. But the small action makes you feel a little better, he’s pissed but he still wants you near him.

Johnny loses to Kenshi; you think if he hadn’t fought you first, they might have ended up in a stalemate.

Kenshi points to you from where he’s standing, “you’re up again, sugar.”

You laugh, apparently that’s catching on amongst the group. You can feel Bi-Han stiffen beside you. Not enjoying any of this.

“Gimmie a sec,” you call out to him. Turning to Bi-Han you say, “calm down, please.” You say it softly enough so to anyone else it’s inaudible.

You walk over to Kenshi, ready to spar again. Bi-Han lets you go this time, knowing he can’t make a scene but really wanting to.

You beat Kenshi but only barely, you’re tired and sore. Which you do complain about, but after Kenshi, you stop trying to go so hard. You spar against Raiden and Kung Lao, but you are stuck on defensive, attack isn’t your strong suit and with how tired you are the most you can do is hope to out manoeuvre them, not able to pull anything like what you did with Johnny in the first round. Not unless you want to injure yourself.

If you were using a weapon, you would fare better but alas, you are but a woman who got fucked silly last night and already sparred against two men. And two out of two, is a pretty good score. You take your losses like a champ and take your wins like a champ too.

The rest of training was hell for Bi-Han, you could tell by the way his eyes never left your form. His anger increasing with every hand that was on your waist or flirtatious remark made, ones you did not return. Ones that had him pissed anyways.

He normally wouldn’t stay for this, finding it a waste of his time to watch armatures train but he stayed today. The whole time, he stayed, and he watched you.

❆˖°

There wasn’t a second of the day where you were alone, and not a second you could slip away either. You probably could’ve made an excuse, but you feel that might have been too obvious, mostly because if you had managed a moment to yourself Bi-Han would’ve followed you wherever you went. Meaning any attempt, you made to be inconspicuous would have gone out the window.

Either way, the result was your whole day being spent with everyone, while a very watchful Bi-Han never strayed too far from you. You have only just now been released from the company of everyone, and it’s already evening.

Finally, back in your own room and able to shower, enjoying the hot water running over your body. It’s been a long day, and the heat of the shower is helping to cleanse the hard day off your skin. Muscles completely relaxing under the stream, you’ve been tense all day, partly because of training but mostly because of the eyes watching you.

Your mind drifts to Bi-Han, jealousy looked hot on him, it also looked… deadly. You might have to sneak back over to his room again tonight, to talk with him. Assure him that you want no one else, maybe talk to him about what exactly is happening between the two of you.

Spending the night in Bi-Han’s bed sounds inviting, waking up in his arms tomorrow would be nice. The urge to be domestic with him is growing, something simple, like breakfast together or maybe a date? You think you’d like that, being asked on a date, taken somewhere and doted on. The idea makes your cheeks blush softly, not that it’s noticeable, the water is running hot; your skin already flush. Turning off the water, you exit the shower. Pulling the fresh towel off the sinks basin, you dry yourself off and then wrap it around your body.

When you leave the bathroom the last thing you expect to see is Bi-Han waiting for you, standing in the middle of your quarters; arms crossed over his chest and an angry look in his eyes. It isn’t what you expected to see but if you’re honest with yourself, you could have predicted it. He looked like he wanted to speak with you all day, it’s not shocking that he didn’t wait for you to go to him. He is not patient; you already know this about him.

He just stares at you, like he has been doing all day, so you speak first, “Hello?”

You probably could have picked something more eloquent to say but you aren’t sure of yourself right now. Plus, you feel exposed, he’s fully dressed and you’re in a towel, and you’re damp. Really, he could’ve waited an extra minute or something and you would’ve been more prepared for whatever he’s about to say.

“I am not… pleased,” he’s straining himself trying to express how he honestly feels. It would be amusing if you didn’t feel so self-conscious right now.

“I noticed.” You don’t really know where he’s going with this, so you don’t have anything else to offer in response.

He takes a breath, “Today was a challenge, for me, watching others touch you, flirt with you.” His words come out with empty space between them, empty but filled with his bitten back rage.

You feel bad, honestly but you felt like no lines were seriously crossed, not for you anyways.

“Bi-Han, it was harmless, they are harmless. I am not interested in any of them.”

You can tell he is trying so hard for you, trying so hard not to lose his cool, “That may be true, but they are certainly interested in you.”

“They’re my friends, they are not interested in me.” You tell him because you genuinely believe it.

“They want you.” His upper lip pulls into a scowl.

You shake your head at him, “What makes you think that?”

“The way they look at you,” he says, his arms straining against his chest.

You don’t really know what he means, “they… look, at me?”

“They look at you how I look at you.” His eyes squint at you, adding emphasis to his statement.

You smile a little, “and how do you look at me?”

His head lowers to his chest, eyes harsh as he pins you with a look “with want.”

You don’t really know what to offer him right now, “What would make you feel better?”

“Their deaths,” he shoots back quickly.

You roll your eyes at him, “you aren’t killing them.”

“Then, I want them to know you’re taken.”

You exhale sharply, “But you said–”

“–I know what I said,” he cuts you off abruptly, his eyes emotive.

The room is quiet, you’re giving him time to pull his thoughts together. It’s obvious he has more to say, he just doesn’t know how to. Your gaze wanders over him, his arms, his chest, his neck, lips, eyes, his very pretty eyes.

You go to speak, not able to keep your thoughts to yourself, “Bi-Han, I like you, and I only want you. I don’t know how much that helps, but it’s what I’ve wanted to say to you all day.”

His gaze softens slightly at your words, you’ve offered him at least some solace, “It helps.”

You’re glad it does, “now, I need to change, could you turn around, please?” You ask. Preferring to continue this conversation fully clothed.

He makes a face, like he’s deep in thought, “why would I? I’ve seen you naked before.”

You look at him, unamused. To get dressed in front of someone is a very vulnerable display, you’d rather he just turns around for a minute. Especially since his eyes have a way of devouring you.

He shrugs his shoulders at you, “I wouldn’t bother dressing.”

“And why is that?” You ask.

“Cause I’m ‘bout to fuck you.” He stalks toward you, placing a hand on your hip and the other on your face; his thumb traces your bottom lip. “Gonna fuck you right, enough so you can’t train tomorrow.”

“Should I be concerned?” You ask, mostly to tease but he’s also got the look of a beast hunting its prey. It sends chills through your body, his words making you buzz with excitement.

“Yes.” His eyes look over your neck and collarbones, the marks he left last night still there. They’ve bloomed into dark purples, the softer ones a yellow.

His hand on your cheek slides down to your neck, touching the marks he had left. His eyes have fire in them, pleased with the hickeys he’s left on you. His expression is making your body temperature rise. You don’t know what he’s going to do to you but it’s thrilling, the way he takes you in.

“It’s a shame you hid these today, left them to be seen.” His eyes don’t leave the marks on your skin.

“It was embarrassing enough for Kuai to see them.”

He smiles and looks into your eyes, his smile is humourless, “I don’t care.”

You pout at him, you wish he would, he’s completely shameless. The one who brought up keeping this entanglement a secret but not doing anything to keep it that way.

“Mmm, you’re at my mercy tonight, completely.” He informs you.

That surprises you, “I wasn’t last night?”

His smile turns ravenous, “not even close, sugar.” He spits out the nickname, like it’s burnt him. Showing his disdain for your newly ordained nickname amongst the guys, courtesy of Johnny.

“Don’t call me that.” You don’t wanna be called that, not by him.

“Why not? Don’t like it?”

You shake your head at him.

“Like when I call you sweet girl?” He asks, gently.

Nodding your head at him, you say, “prefer it.”

“’Course you do.”

He leans down to you, lips catching yours, this kiss is languid at first. Searching, he takes his time, working you open slowly. His thumb eventually pulls your jaw down, opening your mouth for him, tongue entering it. He hums against you, always pleased at how pliant and willing you are.

Pulling back from your lips, he says as much, “the virtue of politeness, sometimes think you’d let me do whatever I want.”

“I would.” It’s honest, your words. You don’t mean for them to come out at all, let alone that quickly.

It should concern you, how willing you are. But the man has such an odd effect on you. Nothing has ever felt like this, you’ve had very few relationships, and they don’t even hold a candle to the way you feel for Bi-Han. The vulnerability you display with him makes you feel… well, vulnerable.

His eyes are bright at your admission, loving the way you agreed, “good, sweet girl.”

His face leans into your neck, inhaling your skin. You tilt your head back, giving him more room and he hums appreciatively. He lays gentle kisses against your skin, at least, at first he does, then he bites you. In the crook of where your neck meets your shoulder, he bites down hard enough to leave a mark.

The pain makes jump slightly, a strangled noise coming from you. His tongue laves over the spot, soothing it. His lips kiss up your neck and jaw, before taking yours in a heated kiss. Fervent, filled with need. His kiss deep and long, it pulls a whine from you, a noise you were trying to conceal. You haven’t forgotten you want to try and be quieter.

Bi-Han keeps kissing you, tongue borderline reverent, worshipping your mouth. Swallowing the noises you make against him. Your arms clutching the fabric of his shirt, holding on. Feeling as though, if you were to let go, you’d fall into an invisible pit below you. Your grip on him grounding you, barely.

When he pulls back, it’s to let you catch your breath for a moment. Huffing against his mouth faintly, he takes the opportunity of your mouth being open to lean in again and place more full kisses on your lips, pulling back after each one but they’re all filled with the desire he carries for you.

His kisses are overwhelming you, your eyes wet with need, he’s done nothing but kiss you and it’s setting you on fire. Using the hands on his chest you push him back slightly.

His hands move to cradle your face, one of them brushing your damp hair back, “what’s wrong, sweet girl?”

“Devastating, your kisses… are devastating.” Eyes big as you look up at him.

He smiles down at you, “good, they’re meant to be.” His eyes, always his eyes, so much depth, yearning, “I want you needy, want you overcome by me, want you to think of nothing but me, consumed by your own cravings.”

He pauses for a moment before adding, “want you to feel, how I feel about you.”

Heart pounding at his words, you need him to know, “I already do feel that way.”

“No, you don’t… but you will, when I’m finished with you.”

He kisses you again, holding your head in his hands; moving you so your mouth slots against his, the cruel kiss a contrast to the gentle cradle he's holding you in. Sliding his hands down to your hips he guides you to your bed, removing his mouth from yours to push you back on the bed.

Holding your towel as you fall, you flop against the mattress, bouncing a bit as your back hits it. You adjust yourself, so you’re resting on your forearms, Bi-Han is watching you from above deliberating his next move. He settles on undressing his upper half and removing his boots, leaving his pants on. The process takes a bit, the man wears far too many layers, but you enjoy the show anyways.

Then his hands are reaching for you, he pulls at your towel. You go to hold onto it and his eyes move to yours, “off.”

“I’m shy,” you sulk at him.

He scoffs in return, “too bad.” And then he’s pulling it off and out from under you, your back lying flat on the bed again. The display of his strength making your pussy throb.

Your hands move to cover your chest, legs closed together. Being completely bare in front of someone is always a little nerve-wracking at first. Especially when he’s making you feel like you’re about to be eaten whole. That and because he’s still wearing pants, it’s making you feel overexposed compared to him, you guess, at least he took off his shirt.

He shakes his head at you, he crawls onto the bed and over top of you, knees resting either side your thighs. He nods towards your hands covering your chest, “c’mon, sweet girl, be good for me.”

Damn, well now you have to, you want to be good for him. Bastard. You move your arms away, dropping them beside your head.

“Thas a good girl.” He smiles at you; he has a pretty smile.

His praise goes straight to your core, your thighs rub together mindlessly in response. Seeking friction on their own accord. He’s dragging this out, not touching you anywhere, not with his hands anyways.

Moving closer to you, his lips peck yours, and then the side of your face, down to your neck again. He licks over the bite mark he left, before moving further down, marks being left in his wake. More hickeys will be blooming on you tomorrow morning. He’s trailed down between your breasts, sucking a mark between them both before catching one of your nipples in his mouth.

The feeling has your back arching off the bed, his tongue flicks at it. He bites it softly as he pulls away, switching to the other and giving it the same attention as the first.

His mouth moves back up your body, sucking more marks into you as he goes. You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet, this needy, you didn’t think you could get this wet.

Slick spread over your inner thighs, leaking from you as he presses his wet mouth against your skin. It’s the longest he’s teased you with his mouth without speaking. You, yourself are breathless, not able to string together a coherent sentence. Actively avoiding it too, biting at your own lips to keep your sounds from reaching the air.

He leans back to marvel at your skin, shiny from the wet marks his mouth has left, already beginning to bloom pinks and reds. He looks unbelievably pleased with himself and his handy work.

“Mm, perfect, look fucken perfect all marked up by my mouth.” His eyes look back into yours. Eyes thrilled at the need in your own.

“Bi-Han, please.” You aren’t quite sure what exactly you’re asking for, but he seems to know.

He shushes you as he shuffles a bit, slipping one of his legs between yours to spread them open. When he can see your pussy, he sees how wet you are, and he lets out a wolf whistle at it, grin enthusiastic as he looks at the evidence of your arousal.

“Fucken, look at you, sweet girl, sweet, needy girl.” His gaze is greedy, “haven’t even fucken, touched you.” He’s sincerely astonished by your bodies reaction to him.

Both his hands go to pull your legs apart properly, moving them to the outside of his thighs. Manoeuvring you how he pleases, your mind numbed and agreeable. Having forgotten your previous shyness.

“Gonna touch you now,” he warns you; you aren’t really sure why.

His thumbs pull your lips apart, and then he moves a finger through your slit; you understand his warning now. He has used his powers to make his hand ice, the cold a shock to your system. Both of your hands shoot up to cover your mouth.

The glide of his finger on your pussy is smooth, the wetness coming from you making it slick. He notches two of his fingers at your hole and then he’s pushing in, stilling them when they’re in as far as they’ll go, the freezing cold a shock, a whiny gasp coming muffled behind your hands. Your pussy hole flutters around his fingers, Bi-Han is awestruck, watching your cunt react to his cold fingers.

“Look at you, mmm, so wet, so messy, perfection.” He’s mumbling it more to himself than you, wouldn’t matter if he was talking to you, you’re a bit preoccupied right now.

His thumb reaches up to your clit, the sudden cold feels like a lot, feels devastating. He doesn’t move his thumb, just holds it there, adding pressure. Your hips rise marginally, seeking friction, wanting more. Wanting his fingers to move.

Taking the hint, his fingers start moving, pace increasing slowly, sliding in and out of you, then back into you, crooking to rub against something cataclysmic. The cold of his fingers a deep contrast to the hugging heat of your walls. Your cunt clenches down on his fingers harshly, the wet of your arousal and his ice fingers too slick to slow down his movements.

Your hands stay covering your mouth, muffling your whimpers but not stopping them. He’s finger fucking you in full earnest now, eyes never leaving the way your pussy pulls his fingers back in. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment, enjoying the shudders and clenches of your cunt against his fingers. The thumb on your clit starts moving, rubbing controlled circles into it.

It doesn’t take you long to cum at all. Your back bows off the bed, toward him, your eyes roll back in your head and a silent cry is pulled from you. Bi-Han groans, enjoying the sight of you blissed out.

“Mmm, thas it, perfect, just like that, sweet girl…” He continues babbling praises to you as you cum all over his ice-cold fingers.

The pleasure is foreign, never having experienced an orgasm this strong from just someone’s fingers. A statement that also was previously said about Bi-Han’s ability to finger fuck you into next year, he’s now bested his prior record. The introduction of his ice powers having an incredibly overwhelming effect on your pussy.

“Always so fucken sensitive,” it’s a compliment, he means it as one anyways.

He moves to press soft kisses onto your face, giving you a second to catch your breath and come back to Earth, having levitated to a higher plane temporarily.

When you can think coherently again you look him in the eyes, they feel foggy. He reaches his hand up and brushes a stray tear from your cheek, one you hadn’t realised fell.

“Not even close to being done with you yet, sweet girl. Need you to fucken, pull it together.”

You nod your head at him, “I’m here.”

“Good.” He replies simply.

He hops off you for a moment, removing his pants before coming back into your view. Back between your legs, positioning them on his hips again. He drags the head of his cock through your folds, he taps it against your clit a couple times, each tap sending a small shock through your body.

“Fuuuck, I’ve got an idea.” The smile on his face is downright diabolical. It sends a rush through you.

He puts the tip of his dick at your pussy hole, having used your arousal to coat his cock, easing the stretch and helping the slide as he presses into you. You let out small, contained whimpers, biting your lip again, hoping to remain quiet.

Bi-Han groans at the feel of you wrapped around him, closing his eyes, trying to control himself as he sinks deeper into you. Both his hands have an iron clad grip on your thighs, holding you open and grounding himself.

“I fffucked you last night and you’re still this – ngh – goddamntight.” He huffs out.

He pauses for a moment, takes a deep breath and then pushes all the way into you. The way he suddenly fucks into you taking you off guard.

“Bi-Hannnn” you moan out his name.

“Ah, there she is, my sweet, whiny, girl.” He has a cocky smirk on his face, “told you, you couldn’t be quiet.”

You roll your eyes at him, and he grinds down into you in response, unhappy at your response. “Don’t be rude, I’m being nice.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you retort.

The smile on his face is amused, “trust me, I’m being downright chivalrous right now.”

He readjusts his gaze down to your cunt, a hand coming off your thigh and moving to your clit. His fingers begin thrumming against it, the first orgasm lingering in your veins. The taps serve your overstimulation, body and pussy jumping at each tap.

He smiles wide at your bodies reaction, groaning lightly at each jump of your cunt. Your hands move back to your mouth to conceal your moans again, he allows it, for now.

He starts tapping his fingers against your clit harder and faster, the pleasure sending you over the edge far quicker than your first orgasm. You clench down on his cock and cum all over it. Bi-Han lets out a repressed grunt at your orgasm.

“Haah – thas what I fucken wanted,” He’s satisfied with himself, hypothesis being proven correct, he can slap your pussy into an orgasm. “Tight little – do you think you can do that again?” He asks you.

You shake your head no at him and he tuts in response, “I think you can.”

He continues slapping your clit, the force he uses increasing. Speeding up once again, slapping your clit, forcing another orgasm from you. You cum with a yelp, the overstimulation becoming too much on your clit. Reaching your hands down you hold the hand that was slapping it still.

Looking up into your eyes, you can see a devious smile on his face, “you really are sensitive.”

His dick is twitching inside you, his own arousal evident. Rock hard and wanting but not giving himself anything more than kissing your cervix with the tip of his cock. He lets you hold his hand back, enjoying the way you’re squirming under and around him. Letting you have a moment to come down before he does whatever he has planned next.

“I want you to know, this is me reminding you who you belong to.” He’s removing your hand from his, placing both his hands back on your thighs and grinding his dick into you.

“I don’t – mmph – need a reminder – hah.” You never forgot.

“Seems like you do, gonna have to mark you up, have you cum around me so much that anyone else is completely ruined for you, by me.” He’s huffing softly, “Gonna fill you with my cum, leave marks on your body, have your muscles aching and sore, just so you can never forget who fucks you this good.”

You whine, cunt clenching down on him, you bite your lip again halfway through your whine, remembering to keep the volume down. Something not overtly necessary since your quarters are furthest from everyone else’s but not willing to take the chance anyhow.

He chuckles cruelly at you, “mine now, sweet girl. Can’t even leave if you tried.”

“Okay,” is your simple response because you are okay with it.

You gasp, “you can’t either though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He begins to draw his hips back, fucking back into you unforgivingly, beginning a rough pace.

His cock bullies its way into you, over and over and over again. Fucking you stupid, making you dizzy, the previous orgasms furthering the euphoric, fucked out look on your face. Bi-Han lets out a wry laugh at the expression you’re making, only to be cut off by his own moan.

His hands move your thighs up, folding you in half, positioning himself up slightly and fucking directly down into you. Using your thighs as leverage.

His eyes watch the way your cunt swallows him, loving the way you take all of him. His head moves forward and bites the part of your thigh just about your knee. The pain sending pleasure rolling down your spine, hips rising to grind into his thrusts, pussy clenching down onto him.

“Gods, the way you let me do whatever – ngh – I want to you, gonna blow my load thinking about it.” He gasps melodiously.

The room filled with the sound of skin slapping skin, your supressed whimpers and Bi-Hans bitten back gasps. You clamp down onto him so tightly his pace falters for a second, you’re cumming around him again.

He stops thrusting immediately when he realises you are, he rubs at your clit to help it along but won’t continue thrusting into you. You ride out your high, waves of pleasure crashing over you, eyes dazed and unseeing as you spasm around his length. Soft groans and whimpers are coming from Bi-Han as you cum around him for the third time.

When you’re back in your body, Bi-Han looks feral from holding back, holding off on his own orgasm. Wanting you to cum on his dick an undetermined number of times.

Once he’s calmed down and is sure he isn’t going to cum prematurely, he starts fucking back into you, same burning pace. He moves your legs over the crook in each of his arms, cradling your legs and holding onto your hips.

Including the three he coaxed from you, it’s another additional two orgasms before he says, “last one, last one and then – nghhhh – I’m cumming inside you so – mphh – deep, I’ll be leaking from you tomorrow.”

You blush at his words, babbling nonsense, having given up on repressing the noises you make an orgasm ago, “mmmkay, I – ngh – want it Grandmasterrr…”

“And you’ll – fffffucken take it – nghhh–”

He fucks into you, hitting something deep, it feels different from all the other orgasms, you try to warn him, “fffeels different, Bi-Hannnn, is too much – I can’t –”

“You can and you – mphh – will,” he bites back.

You’re shaking your head at him, eyes large and wet, “nooo, mm feels like I’m gonna pee–”

His face lights up excited, “you aren’t going to pee.”

You’re still shaking your head at him, but his hand reaches up, off your hip and grabs onto your face, squishing your cheeks between is large fingers.

“Look atme – ngh – let. it. happen.” His tone is demanding.

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

His smile is large and beautiful, his pace never stopping. Now dedicating his full attention back to fucking you. The tip of his cock bullying the spot that’s responsible for the foreign feeling. Specifically angling his thrusts to drive into the spot.

His hand slides from your face down to your tits, grabbing one of them and twisting your nipple, sending a sharp pleasurable feeling through you, before continuing the move down and landing on your hip again. Using his grip to encourage the force of his thrusts.

And then suddenly, you’re cumming, hard, Bi-Han’s eyes watch, fucked out, as you cum around him. Cunt tight, vice like grip on his cock. The sight of you cumming and the feeling driving him over the edge. A sharp biting sensation at your hips, you’re too fucked out to register what caused it at the moment.

His cum fills you up, spilling out around his dick, leaking out onto the bed between your bodies.

You’re gasping as you begin registering the things around you again, first noticing the thin layer of ice on your hips, evidence of Bi-Han completely losing control for a moment. And then noticing how wet Bi-Han’s pelvis is, all down his thighs, all down your thighs.

You stumble over your words, “I – I’ve never, I didn’t think–”

“–You fucken, squirted all over me, hottest thing I’ve ever seen, my sweet, sweet, sensitive girl.”

He drops your legs from where they’re resting on his arms, untangling you from him and then leaning down and kissing you deeply. You return his kiss and whimper into his mouth. When he pulls back, he kisses away the tears you shed from the devastating force of the orgasm he just gave you.

His pride is practically blinding you, his ego massively inflated right now, “you’ve got such a creamy little cunt, I thought you’d be able to squirt for me–”

Your hands shoot up and cover his mouth to stop him from talking, his words that serve as compliments to him always embarrass you. He’s too blunt, it makes your skin hot.

“Too descriptive.” You tell him.

He mumbles against your hands, “what?” You ask him and pull your hands back.

He smirks at you, “you like it, I can be even more descriptive, if you’d like.”

You shake your head at him, “that was embarrassing.” Your words are all slurred right now. No energy to talk properly.

“Shouldn’t be, it was hot, means I fucked you right,” he whispers into your ear, “means I’ve ruined all other men for you.”

And he has, but “that was true before,” you turn your head to the side and press a kiss to his cheek.

He pulls his cock out of you, both of you hissing at the feeling, then he rolls off you and lays flat on his back.

“Sweet girl, always trying to kill me.”

You look over to him, eyes glazed, “do you feel better now?”

“Slightly, would feel better if they could all see the marks I left on you.”

You chuckle, “nice try, they’re not seein the light of day.”

He groans out, “we’ll see.” He pats his chest, signalling for you to cuddle into him.

You move over slightly before giving up, too tired and too sore, “can’t move.”

He rolls his eyes at you but gently moves you towards him, also moving closer himself to make it as painless as possible for you.

Your head rests on his chest and you cuddle into his side, “you’re changing my sheets,” you inform him.

He sighs from above you, “fine, but next time, you’re sitting on my face.”

❆˖°

A/N: You guys know the drill; I do not apologise for the horny, we embrace it here! Thank you for reading the whole thing!! I love you all and I hope you enjoyed it, please, if you have any thoughts, feelings, or requests, leave a comment or message me! I love the feedback I have been getting, I added some peoples suggestions into this chapter, I wasn’t super active this week because I tried functioning like a normal human being (I mostly failed) but I saw comments and likes coming in and it keeps me motivated and super grateful to you all. <333

Part four <3

#subzero x reader smut #bi han x reader #bi han x reader smut #bi han x you #mk1 smut #fanfic #subzero #subzero smut #subzero x reader #mk1 2023 #mk1 #smut

410 notes · View notes

snakes-writing-corner · 17 days

Text

Mr. Puzzles Fluff Alphabet

Requested by… Me!

Coming out of hibernation ‘cause there is not enough Mr. Puzzles x Reader content out there so I am contributing to the pile because the hyperfixation I have on this man has me in a fucking death-grip.

It is 2 in the morning when I’m posting this so yippie brain-rot!!!

Anyways alphabet under the cut :D

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Very. I mean you are kind of the only person who’s ever bothered to get close to him!

He was extremely clingy when the two of you were just friends, but now that you’re his partner? That’s increased tenfold.

He’s very unpredictable so he’s pretty much a wildcard when it comes to ways he’ll show affection.

Sometimes he’ll gently pull you along by grabbing your wrist, sometimes he’ll nuzzle into your hair or neck, maybe he’ll cup your face like you’re a glass sculpture that might shatter, and sometimes he’ll just pick you up and twirl you around. Honestly? This lovable director will show you any kind of physical affection under the sun.

I do think he particularly would like to hold your hand though. He likes the warmth of your hand in his, and how it’s so small compared to his. It’s like your hand was just made for him to hold!

Overall, any physical affection is fine by him as long as he gets to touch or hold you!

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend?)

I fear having this man as a best friend because that means chaos.

Yes being in a romantic relationship with him would be chaos, but a friendship I feel would be more chaotic somehow???

Will break your door down to get an opinion on a new show he’s been working on, and will absolutely pester you until you comply.

Would probably get you to star in said show and then poke fun at you the entire time. Lovingly of course mind you!

Lots of talk sessions where the two of you just talk shit about other people because this man lives for drama, like wants the tea on everyone.

Would break into your house at 2 in the morning to steal food like a fucking rat (I say this in a loving way).

Anyways being besties with him means say goodbye to your doors because he’s kicking them all down to get your attention.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Cuddling is definitely a must!!! Like he would love to cuddle!!!

This man has no preference to cuddling he just wants to hold you close to him! Definitely big spoon no questions asked, but he also loves having you lay on his chest.

I think his favorite way to cuddle though would be on his side with you snuggled into his chest. You would probably look very small compared to him like his body would basically envelop yours, but hey he’d be very warm at least! Mr. Puzzles would probably just lazily comb through your hair with the goofiest smile on his face, whispering little words of affirmation under his breath as he did so.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they around the house?)

Oh definitely! But, after he becomes all rich and famous! He wants the best life for you after all!

Definitely a housewife though when he’s not busy working on his shows, like this man is a workaholic. I genuinely think he enjoys cleaning and repetitive tasks in general, helps him think.

When working on his shows or stressed? Yeah no the living space can easily become a train-wreck as he gets increasingly more frustrated over whatever he’s working on.

You could probably leave the studio on any given day, and either come back to it spotless or a wreck. There’s like a 50/50 shot whenever you leave.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Nuh-uh, not happening, you are literally stuck with him now, and he is NEVER LETTING YOU GO. :)

Yeah that’s definitely not concerning! Good luck my guy because Mr. Puzzles has some attachment issues, and will not leave you no matter what you do!

But hey! You probably won’t get to leave him either! At least he won’t let you without a fight! (Get this man some therapy or something)

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Very big on commitment honestly part of him wants all of your attention to himself, but he loves you enough to not go that far.

I think he’d be kinda iffy on marriage. On one hand he could throw this big event for the two of you, letting everyone know you’re his.

On the other, he’s fine not getting married at all! As far as he’s concerned as long as you’re completely committed to him romantically there’s not really a reason to get married?

Honestly whether he gets married to you or not would depend on your preference.

Would probably still get you an engagement ring of some kind no matter what your answer is, just so others’ know you’re committed to someone.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Oh my god this man? Gentle as a feather physically. Emotionally? He tries to be as gentle as he can, but that temper gets the better of him sometimes.

He holds you like you are glass about to shatter, like he’s holding the most precious thing in the world.

Cups your face in his gloved hand and just admires you like the most beautiful art piece ever created. Might even lightly bump his screen against your head wondering how he got so lucky.

Most of the time he’s a bit aloof regarding your emotions he likes to tease you after all!

But in serious moments his tone will get noticeably softer as he listens, and tries to help you with whatever you are dealing with in anyway he can.

Now granted, Puzzles gets frustrated easily, and might lash out at you occasionally or straight up manipulate you, but he tries to make up for it.

Just be patient with him.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? What are their hugs like?)

Yes.

Hugs are a constant thing with this man he loves to hug and hold you. Though he will probably pick you up to hold you.

Most of the time he’ll come up from behind, pick you up, spin you around a bit, saying something like “There’s my little angel!”, and then hug you!

Definitely puts his screen to your head and makes a loud “mwah!” sound.

He’s a dork when it comes to hugging he wants to make you smile, that and he just likes having you close to him.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

After you get together?

All. The. Time.

Not in a bad way of course he wants you to know he absolutely adores you! Words of affirmation are part of his love language after all!

Says stuff like “I love you my precious starlight.” or “Gosh you’re just so cute! I truly do love you when you give me that look my dear!”

He is serious every time he says it though, but will not hesitate to fluster you with that phrase.

Can imagine him saying “I love you.” in a low husky voice to make you weak in the knees.

He likes to see you get all red in the face and become a stuttering mess. He’s a tease like that. :)

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Puzzles has attachment issues this man gets extremely jealous very quickly.

If he thinks anyone is getting even a little touchy with you? He’s walking over, putting his arms around you, and talking to the offender with fake enthusiasm and venom in his voice.

The person doesn’t get the hint? Lightly veiled threats start coming out.

Would resort to violence as a last resort.

If it’s a more light version of jealousy he’ll probably dramatically pout in the corner with his arms crossed until you come over and give him attention.

He’s very dramatic with jealously like a dog not getting attention when it wants it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Uhhhh I mean he has a TV for a head he can’t exactly kiss you per se.

But Puzzles tries to make it work! Most commonly he’ll gently tap his screen to your head or hands with a little electric shock to give the illusion of an actual kiss.

Is not much for you kissing his screen though since he’ll have to clean it afterwards…

But you want to get this man to melt into you? He loves being kissed on the neck, or on the bottom of his TV, might as well send sparks through his entire body. Would definitely love neck bites as well.

Honestly would not care where you kiss him he’s just happy getting your affection.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

I think he’d be pretty good around children at least outwardly.

Probably would be trying to entertain them with cartoons or little puppet shows.

Do not think he’d actively put himself in a situation to be around children though. I don’t think he likes them very much.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Puzzles would get up without waking you, get dressed, get some coffee, and then would make the two of you breakfast.

You typically tend to wake up before he’s finished, but if you aren’t then he’ll gladly give you breakfast in bed!

Would make fun of you for being a sleepyhead though.

Mornings with Puzzles would start off quiet, but get progressively louder as you both wake up a bit.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I feel like nights go one of two ways.

Either A. Chaotic as hell or B. Actually nice

A chaotic as hell night includes Mr. Puzzles having some sort of mental break which results in him overworking himself and refusing to go to sleep and/or him frantically at a board with a bunch of papers on it trying to come up with ideas.

While this rarely happens it can if his shows aren’t doing as well as he would like or if you’re gone for long periods of time. The best thing to do here is gently talk to him and get him away from his area of work to help him calm down. A nice cup of hot tea or hot cocoa would help as well!

A nice night is more common though since Puzzles does think sleep is important. Probably ends with the two of you winding down by either cuddling in bed or watching TV (an actual TV though not his head he likes being able to hold you) while you two have blankets and/or hot tea to sip on.

Alternatively you two will cuddle in bed and just talk about whatever comes to mind until you two fall asleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’s pretty open about his past but not so much about what he doesn’t want you to see.

He shares stories from when he was a kid a lot, mainly about his mom, (I get a huge mama’s boy vibe from him) or his struggles making friends and connections until you showed up.

Also talks about his frustrations about getting into directing shows and how no corporate big shot would give him a chance so that’s how he made his own company! Also loves talking about ideas for new shows or really anything that comes to mind this man has no filter and just says what pops in his head.

He does not talk about things he doesn’t want you to know. Mainly that he smokes but he’s also definitely done some fucked up stuff in the past to get where he is today so he keeps that under wraps.

Wouldn’t want his darling angel to worry about those little hiccups~

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

We are literally talking about the person who sang about how ‘patience is a virtue uttered by fools’ this man has close to none.

He gets very frustrated and angry when things don’t go how he planned them to. He also can get frustrated if you don’t tell him things.

While he never tries to direct his anger at you he tends to lash out when frustrated and says things he doesn’t mean. However, he would probably apologize in the end if he really hurt you with his words.

Would never think of getting physically violent with you though he would much rather cut off his own head again than do that.

It would be very odd hot to see the man who holds you so gently be able to so easily make a sizable dent in a metal object.

Definitely has punched many holes in the walls and covered it up with something.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

My guy.

My buddy.

This man will remember every little thing you have told him about anything you like. He has a little notebook dedicated to writing little details about you so he doesn’t forget.

Knows just about everything you’ve either off-handedly mentioned about yourself or straight up told him.

Has various things written down like your favorite color, food, drink, cartoon, etc. Like literally anything you can think of that you could say about yourself he probably has written down.

Also has a page just describing how much he loves your looks down to the littlest detail but that’s not as important.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When you two officially became partners.

He was so anxious to ask on the inside but kept the outwardly performance up as he was desperately trying to figure out how to go about it.

He broke one night and frantically made a board full of ideas for what he could do, but none of them were good enough! You deserved so much more than-than this!

You just so happened to walk into this scenario but Mr. Puzzles didn’t notice you as he was too focused on his board. You heard him muttering to himself about how “this had to be perfect” and “no, no that wouldn’t-”.

You eventually got concerned and walked up to him, accidentally scaring the living daylights out of him by the way, and as he tried to stutter something out you realized just what the board was about.

You then looked at him as he was still trying to come up with an excuse and just looked at him with wide eyes as you just blurted “And here I was scrambling to figure out a way to ask you out myself.”.

Puzzles just stared at you wide eyes and shouted “Wait really!?”

Anyways that night ended with you two just watching a movie on the couch and you’ve been together ever since.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you?)

Oh very protective.

Like you get scary tall guard dog partner privileges.

Most of the time if you’re with Puzzles no one would really dare to try anything because of how tall your TV man is, but on the off chance some asshole wants to try his luck?

Well Puzzles most definitely has a kill count.

In actuality he’d probably make threats towards the person, never getting outwardly aggressive as he doesn’t like to be the one fighting, but if the aggressor tries to touch you?

All bets are fucking off.

Despite what his personality may suggest to you if it comes down to it this man can pack a punch if need be. He is deceptively strong for how he looks and could easily beat a man to death if he wanted to.

While the fight would not end with the aggressor’s death as Puzzles does not want to kill someone in front of you, there is a good chance that person might end up mysteriously dead with no evidence tracing the murder back to him later down the line.

This man is slightly unhinged when it comes to keeping you safe.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

This is Mr. Puzzles we’re talking about he’s going all out!

Would definitely have a fancy dinner or something equally extravagant. I can see him liking to slow dance with you in a ballroom if given the chance.

If you prefer more casual dates then hey he’s up for that too! He’s paying though no ifs, ands, or buts about it! He loves movie dates and stargazing as date ideas.

Anniversaries are an all out occasion he’s standing his ground on that one because it’s special date and he wants the entire day to be special to the both of you.

Tries to get you gifts he knows you’ll like instead of fancy things though.

Okay maybe one or two pretty rings and such but mainly things you’d actually enjoy or give that big smile at receiving. I think gift giving is one of his love languages after all so expect to have lots of little trinkets.

He tries his best to make you smile everyday so he tries a lot for you.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has some… unfavorable aspects of himself he doesn’t want you knowing the true extent of.

He does not want you to know he smokes as he thinks it’s an undesirable habit and always deflects any questions about why he might smell like smoke or any cigarettes you might find.

His temper also gets the best of him at times leading to him lashing out and making dumb decisions that he tends to regret if he thinks about it too much. Though he has wrangled it in around you it can be explosive and violent when you aren’t around to witness the full extent of it.

He is also very obsessive with you and he knows it. It’s definitely toxic obsession as well because at his worst moments mentally he has debated keeping you to himself and not letting you leave. He’s also considered sabotaging all of your relationships so you only rely on him and no one else.

A dark part of him wants to keep you all to himself so no one can take you away from him ever.

Thankfully, he respects and loves you too much to act on those thoughts but god rest the poor soul that does anything bad to you because odds are…

Their life is on a very short timer.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Oh my god yes.

Yes he so is.

He wants to look his best around you 24/7 all day every day and somehow does not even have to try for it.

He needs to always look presentable because a good director should always look ready all the time!

Is dramatic as fuck if his shirt gets wrinkled or something like damsel with their hand on their head going “my poor husband” dramatic.

He’s very silly like that and you love him for it.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yes.

You are the only person who ever really tried to get to know him, who puts up with his silly shenanigans, and who he fell in love with.

Truthfully without you? He’d completely lose it mentally because you are his rock. The one person he knows can pull him back from the darkest corners of his mind.

Not that you’d ever know this but Mr. Puzzles does. He knows that now that he has you he would not be able to live without you and continue to pretend to be even remotely sane.

X = Xtra (Random HC)

Plays his dreams or soft static on his screen when he’s in a deep sleep.

Claps his hands when excited and fidgets with his suspenders a lot.

Also makes tons of motions with his hands while he talks.

Y = You (How would they talk about you?)

This goes one of two ways.

Either he’s all giddy and cheerful like a schoolgirl with a massive crush or sounds very concerning as he talks about you like a follower would a god.

Pick your poison because both are accurate it just depends on how he’s feeling that day.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Will. Not. Let. Go.

Like if you wake up before him you are not getting up because he has the grip of a koala and probably has his arms and legs wrapped all around you.

But sometimes if you wake up before him he ends up in the funniest positions like sprawled out in ways that should break his bones. It can be very funny and disturbing at the same time.

#my writing #mr. puzzles #smg4 #smg4 mr puzzles #mr puzzles #mr puzzles x reader #mr puzzles hcs #mr puzzles smg4 #please help #the brainrot #its killing me #anyways have fun you mr puzzles simps #it’s me #i’m mr puzzles simps :(

239 notes · View notes

dilatorywriting · 1 year

Text

Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Running a little pâtisserie is quaint, and homey, and should not in any way get you involved with anything shady. Let alone the strange bounty hunter who prowls through your little town like the Grim Reaper himself. And yet here you are, teaching this literal murderer how to use a napkin.

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Also apologies in advance to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

There was a murderer at your window, and you weren’t really sure what to do about it.

Well, maybe not actually a murderer. Bounty Hunters tended not to wind up in prison after dragging back the desecrated remains of their latest quarry. But still. You recognized the black plume tucked slickly into his wide-brimmed, purple, hat, and the pale, bright, bob of his hair was nearly luminescent in the dark. He was certainly the least covert assassin you’d ever seen, and you had seen him. It was hard not to. Traipsing through town to deposit every wayward criminal, every long-lost villain, at the doorstep of who’d ever called for him.

‘Rook Hunt’ you thought his name was, or at least, that’s what the old woman in the market would call him before crossing herself and spitting in the dirt. It was all a bit on the nose in your humble opinion, especially with that strange, twisting, ebony, bow of his strung across his back. ‘Hunter’ indeed. But it’s not like you’ve ever done anything to warrant winding up in one of those dripping burlap sacks of his, so you’d let the dude have his drama. It was probably good advertisement. And it’s not like the guy had ever bothered you before.

You thought that reassurance on repeat as you watched said not-quite-a-murderer stare through the front window of your little bakery, as if your rising dough had been kneaded with the secrets of the known universe. But he didn’t do anything—just kept watching with rapt attention as you brushed egg wash over your pie crusts and swapped trays in and out of the ancient, brick, oven.

In all honesty, he was far from the strangest thing that’d been plastered to your window in the early AM, and it wasn’t like he was licking the glass or anything. So you let it slide.

One of the custard tarts you pulled from the oven had cracked across the top. Nothing out of the ordinary—there was always at least one dud in a batch. Normally you saved the rejects for Ace or Deuce to gobble up (depending on whoever managed to pop by first), but this one you set aside onto a little tea plate. You topped it with a dollop of freshly whipped cream and a spoonful of the blackberries you’d left sitting in sugar overnight. Then you plucked up a spare napkin and made your way out from behind the counter.

When you opened the door to your little bakery, the tingling overhead bell warmed your unwanted guest’s expression in a way that it most certainly should not have—lighting the whole of him with this sort of wide-eyed, innocent, joy that belonged nowhere on the face of someone you’d watched cart literal corpses into town.

“Mon pâtissier!” he chirped. “What a fine morning it is, no?”

The sun hadn’t even started to rise yet. You could still hear the drone of crickets and toads in the distance, basking in the humid darkness of the night.

“Sure,” you shrugged. “We’re not open for,” you glanced at the moon, still full in the sky, “at least four more hours. If that’s what you’re waiting for.”

“Oh—non, non, non,” Rook waved you off. “I just wanted to watch!”

“…Watch?” you repeated.

“It’s quite the fascinating process!” he absolutely beamed. “Taking such basic, individual, components and turning them into something so spectacularly sweet and heartwarming! Quelle inventivité! I’ve heard nothing but excellent things about your marvelous menu!”

‘From who?’ you wanted to ask, because you’d never heard of anyone being able to hold a conversation with this man for more than a stuttered sentence at a time, let alone for long enough to go about giving dessert recommendations. But there was a streak of red blood across his cheek that still looked fresh enough to not even have gone tacky yet, and now that you looked closer, his dark gloves were perhaps a shade too dark to not have been, well…

You sighed and reminded yourself once again that is was absolutely not your business, before handing him the napkin.

He stared at it with that same sort of rapt fascination that had you wondering if this man had ever actually interacted with proper civilization in his entire life.

“Wipe your hands,” you demanded with a huff, and he dutifully scrubbed at his stained fingers. Once he was clean enough that he was at least no longer dripping unmentionables all along your windowsill, you held out the little saucer for him to take.

“Pour moi?” he muttered, looking a bit starstruck.

“If you’re going to say all those nice things about my food, you may as well get to try what you’re complimenting,” you shrugged, and that same eager enthusiasm lit his face all over again. “And it will be a nice treat to take home with you,” you emphasized, with all the intonation of a cheery ‘please get the fuck out before you scare away all my customers for the day.’

But instead of turning and meandering off back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of, he just kept staring at the little treat like he had no idea what to do with it.

“It’s a tart,” you said blandly, fighting the furrow in your brow.

Rook repeated ‘a tart’ under his breath like it was some kind of ancient, forbidden, enchantment, and not like it was literally scrawled into the little menu sign at your door at least a dozen times over.

The Bounty Hunter peered at the little custard treat like you’d handed him a treasure beyond measure. After a moment of carefully poking at the browned crust like it wasn’t literally meant to break apart beneath one’s fingers, he looked back over at you with eyes that were far, far, too green. He lifted the tart up like he meant to give it back to you.

“I ought to offer you la première bouchée,” he smiled.

You blinked, taken aback, and pushed the plate back into his hands. “That’s not how free samples work.”

Rook tossed his head back with a bout of boisterous laughter that should have been loud enough to wake everyone on the block. You glanced around nervously, hoping no one was about to come running out to make noise complaints.

“Ahh~ But how else will I know the best manner in which to savor such a treat?”

“You eat it,” you gaped. And then, slowly, because you weren’t even sure you were dealing with a functional human being anymore. “With your teeth.”

The Bounty Hunter, with his blood smeared cheeks and even bloodier clothes, put all those shiny, pearly whites of his on display in a merry grin. He swept forward in a grand bow that had the feather in his hat bobbing about in a way that reminded you far too much of a wagging tail.

“Of course!” he chirped. “In my home you said, yes?”

Please, you wanted to groan. Go there. Leave.

“Ideally,” you said instead, and Rook ducked his head until that purple hat of his had cast the whole of his face into shadow. He reached up to tap two fingers against the wide brim and tip it forward.

“Merci, merci!” he trilled. “Then I will endeavor to consume this marvelous spécialité humaine in the proper fashion. A very good morning to you then, cher pâtissier!”

He straightened with a merry little hum and began making his way back down the cobblestone road. In the soft light of the setting moon, his footsteps left odd prints in their wake—inky, black, dripping things that had faded entirely by the time you were able to focus enough to get a proper look at them, leaving you wondering if they’d really just been nothing but a trick of the night.

Well, that was fucking weird,you frowned, shaking the fuzz from your head. You slipped back inside and the door jingled pleasantly as it slammed behind you. But then again, when wasn’t customer service a trip? These people were all ridiculous.

Bright and early the next morning, you were waiting for Deuce to arrive with his delivery of a fresh crate of eggs. It was ungodly early, as it always was. But at least there was no hunter at your window this time around—

There was a bang and a screech, and then an unfortunate sort of cracking-squishing-yucky noise that sounded an awful lot like a couple dozen eggs meeting their doom. You frowned and tucked your rag into the ribbons of your apron and ducked out from the backroom with a sigh. Deuce was at the door. Or, well, Deuce was on the ground in front of your door. With the shattered, yolk, remnants of your shipment scattered all around him.

“I’m not paying for that,” you huffed irritably, and your friend looked up with a squawk.

He looked like he was trying to say something, but his face just kept flashing back and forth between deathly pale and a miserable sort of mottled red.

“I—! You—! And he—!”

“Use your words, Spade,” you sighed.

“I do believe he’s trying his best, cher pâtissier!”

You froze, and turned in near-slow-motion to see a beaming Bounty Hunter crouched at one of the little painted benches lined up neatly along your storefront. Not on one, like a normal person. But beside one. On the ground. There was no blood on him today. None that was very obviously dripping down his face at the very least. He didn’t seem like he’d come bearing any ill will, but your Chicken Dealer was still splayed out on the ground—nearly convulsing—so that wasn’t a great sign either.

“What’s going on out here?” you demanded, hands at your hips.

“I do believe Monsieur Spade had himself a bit of a fright,” Rook beamed, and then turned towards your very gaunt looking friend with a soft tut-tut noise that for all its amiability didn’t sound particularly sympathetic. “You really ought to work on your balance, hmm? Alas, all these petits oeufs have gone to waste.”

“What?!” Deuce immediately bristled, on the defensive. “If you hadn’t scared me, then none of these chicks would have had to die so tragically in the first place!”

“For the last time,” you sighed, grinding the heels of your palms into your eyes. “Unfertilized farm eggs are not baby chicks.”

“But Ace said—”

“Enough! With what Ace said!” you snapped, exhaustion and a sore lack of tea, or coffee, or anything wearing away at your already fragile sanity. “Ace would sell you snake oil and cry to your face about you underpaying for it!”

“Oh?” Rook chirped, unfolding himself from his crouch to stand at his full height. He wasn’t particularly gangly or long limbed—not even especially tall, all things considered. But there was something about him that made him loom. From the sharp cut of his purple robes to the harsh, starched, white of his tight collar. He was neat, composed. And yet… very much not civilized. “Is this not a person who wishes you well, cher pâtissier?”

You frowned, something odd tugging at a sixth sense of yours. Just… a little something on the periphery of your nerves, singing that the words you chose now would mean a lot more than they ought to.

You hummed, low in your throat, and considered.

“Ace is himself,” you said finally, “but he’s a friend nonetheless.”

“Magnifique!” Rook beamed and clapped his hands together with a near lovelorn sigh, all at once perfectly pleasant and soft. “It is such a very good thing to have friends!”

“…Is that what you are?” Deuce asked, enough of that enraged spunk fading away to leave him properly cautious once more. His blue eyes flickered pointedly from the bounty hunter, to you, and back. “A friend?”

You sighed and turned to retreat back into your little shop without a word. Deuce scrambled to his feet to follow you in hesitantly, still dripping with the remnants of too many eggs. You shot him a look, and he immediately darted over to the mop and bucket you kept propped up in the corner. Rook stood in the doorway, nearly just a blur of bruised shadow against the backdrop of the pre-dawn darkness, and you watched him out of the corner of your eye. After a long moment of terse silence, he stepped beyond the threshold with a little hum. He wiped his feet pointedly on your little welcome mat, and then turned to stand at the counter. He fished around in the pockets of his cloak for a moment before withdrawing a strange little flower. He placed it on the countertop with a bright smile that crinkled the corners of his green eyes.

You stepped forward to observe it curiously, and your brows shot up in surprise.

It wasn’t a flower at all. What had looked like the folded arch of soft petals was actually a dainty pair of wings. It was a tiny butterfly—caught in a perpetual sort of stillness. It was bright, and colorful, and so carefully preserved that even when you trailed a flour-coated finger along the thin membranes of its wings, it stayed clean and crisp.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Payment, of course!” Rook smiled. “For the lovely treat you gifted me the other day.”

You sighed, not at all in the mood to discuss the lack of viable conversion rates between copper coins and bugs.

So instead you settled on huffing, “Free samples are free. It’s in the name.”

Rook just kept on smiling, unbothered. Deuce knocked into some set of drawers or other—or maybe the coatrack. Who knew—and you shot him an irritable little scowl. The guy was like a bull in a china shop on the best of days, let alone when he was trying to multitask, and be sneaky about it all the while. The bounty hunter’s grin twitched a bit at the corners, like the idea of your blue-haired friend trying to stealthily keep a watch on him was just the funniest thing.

You glanced back down at the little, frozen, butterfly. It really was very pretty, even if it was a little odd.

When you ducked back behind the counter, you unearthed a blueberry muffin from one of many stacks of trays there. It was little lopsided, and maybe there were a few too many bits of fruit in it. Surely no one would have wanted it anyways.

You plopped it on the countertop, and both Rook’s eyebrows shot all the way up his forehead. When he made no move to take it, you pushed the confection closer. The wrapper slid along the counter in a heavy, sticky, way. You’d have to remember to wipe it down again after. The Hunter reached out carefully to pluck the treat up between his fingers. He squished it delicately, in a similarly cautious way as to how you’d stroked the little butterfly.

“Is this also for eating at home?” he asked, observing the offering with a wide, wonderous, expression.

“Yes,” you said, just in time for Deuce to nearly annihilate your trash bin. “Please enjoy it.” Please get out. You’re distracting my maid.

Rook Hunt dipped into another of those ridiculous, bobbing, bows and pinched the brim of his hat between his fingers.

“Your generosity continues to warm my heart, mon cher,” he crooned, eyes practically sparkling from behind the sharp cut of his heavily lined lashes. “I will endeavor to return your kindness tenfold! A hundred!”

You waved off his sentimentality with a flick of your wrist and a not so delicate ‘shoo shoo.’

The hunter left your little bakery with a spring in his step and an outpouring of flowery promises that had your head spinning. He melted seamlessly into the shadows of the early morning, and between one blink and the next, he’d vanished entirely.

You would have thoroughly enjoyed the well-earned silence that followed, if not for the veritable storm cloud brewing over your friend’s head.

“Do I get one…?” Deuce asked finally, staring outright at the remaining muffins and sounding small and hopeful. And like that clearly wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.

“Maybe if I had the eggs to make more,” you lamented, brushing your hands against your apron.

Deuce made a wounded noise which you had exactly zero sympathy for. You got to work wiping down the counters and sorting through the bits and bobs you’d need to start your day.

“…You know he’s not right, don’t you? That bounty hunter?” Deuce finally said, setting the mop aside. “You must have heard at least some of the rumors floating around town. I don’t think anyone even knows if the guy’s human.”

You shrugged.

“Anyone who has to wake up when I wake up each morning has long given up on humanity anyways,” you droned, only sort of half kidding.

Deuce frowned, clearly unhappy with your non-answer.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he asked, stern in his fretting. There was still a big ol’ chunk of eggshell tangled up in his bangs.

“When I am ever not?” you smiled, and carefully pocketed the little, blue, butterfly.

When you popped by the market stalls after closing shop for the day, the street was abuzz with all the usual gossipy nonsense that you’d long since learned to let settle at the back of your brain like white noise. You were busy debating if you had enough arms to manage balancing yet another bag of strawberries (they were at their height of freshness these past weeks it seemed, and you were like a little fruit goblin hoarding them while you could), when a particularly shrill bit of chatter worked its way past the pleasant curtain you’d let fall across your thoughts.

“There was another one,” the butcher’s wife whispered in a way that was most certainly not a whisper.

“I heard,” chittered the man who really should have been trying to sell you more strawberries if he’d any kind of business sense whatsoever. He turned on you with a look that meant you were clearly about to be dragged into a conversation you were entirely unprepared for. “It was one of yours, apparently!”

“One of my what?” you blinked back into focus.

“One of your regulars,” he said, like a secret.

“That strange Bounty Hunter came through again,” his coconspirator hissed, with a hand lifted as if she meant to cover her mouth. “He dropped off the body the other day—delivered the heart straight to the Felmier’s porch!”

“Who was it?” you asked, just like you knew they wanted you to.

“Sir Hamlen,” the butcher’s wife said. “You know, that awful toad who could eat you out of house and home.”

That sounded like all of your costumers, and more than half of your closest friends, but you gave yourself a moment to sort through your scattered thoughts and try and connect whatever dots they’d been throwing at you.

“Sir Hamlen…?” you said after a moment, slowly putting a face to the name. “With the terrible goatee?”

They both nodded enthusiastically.

“Rotten pig,” the butcher’s wife piped back in. “Served him right, if you ask me. Everyone was expecting the Crown would put him to death anyways.”

You shrugged again. You hardly knew the man, but he’d always paid you well enough that you didn’t really have any ill will towards him. You went back to fussing over balancing bags of berries, but then… Well, there was something a bit funny, actually. He’d been a loud sort of person, with no filter to speak of. One afternoon, he’d stumbled into your little shop absolutely pissed on cheap drink and all but burping bubbles.

‘You know,’ he’d lulled, dropping a full coin pouch on your countertop. Which you’d taken in its entirely with zero hesitation. ‘I’d die happy if my last meal was these fucking tarts of yours.’

‘Is that so,’ you’d drawled, in the bland way you answered literally every customer who spouted off whatever nonsense was kicking around in their heads.

‘Aye,’ he’d sighed, practically stooped over. ‘Gonna have to pry ‘em outta my cold, dead, hands.’

“Huh,” you muttered, thoughts wandering back to a pair of bloody gloves and the little treat you’d pressed into them. Huh.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl,

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Rook Hunt x Reader #Rook x Reader #Rook Hunt x Yuu #Reaper!Rook #Monster Mayhem #Fantasy AU #Rook Hunt #Deuce Spade #My Writing #Monster Mayhem Rook Part 1

1K notes · View notes

norman-fucking-reedus · 6 days

Text

HE ATE MY HEART (I LOVE THAT GIRL)

gif by @corvidcrossbow

IM SO FUCKING EXCITED TO FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO POST ON HERE AND ALSO TO POST SOMETHING TO THIS SONG

Vamp!Daryl has rotted not only my brain but the community. I am not sorry at all for the plague I'm spreading and I hope that it only gets worse.

So I've been doing some research on it, and I really like the idea of mixing the Blade universe w TWD, I did some more research on the different types of vampires (its kind of a lot so if you want you can go read abt them here!) To basically summarize, there's people, daywalkers (half vamp-people), walkers, full vampires, and then Revenants (half-walker half vampire, basically just another way to die)

This also makes it easier for whenever Scud becomes my next vampy victim

AUUUGH I NEED MY HOT SEXY NEEDY VAMPIRE MAN WHO JUST WANTS TO DRINK ALL MY BLOOD SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING PLEASE

also I am working on reqs yes I am, I have one scud fic that is dirty and nasty and should be getting posted soon. also I may not be on tumblr as much as I used to be because GUYS I am now employed yes that's right I got off my computer, went outside, interacted with people, and got a job #gangshit

It had been over a week since Daryl had eaten, and over two since he had left to go out on the community's monthly supply run.

As he stumbled through the opening gates, he felt like he had been through a war. His body was wracked with exhaustion, weakness, and hunger. The air was thick with the strong scent of blood, and he couldn't keep himself from groaning painfully when he was bombarded by Carol and Rick asking where he had been, what had taken so long, and if he was alright.

“No! M’not alright dammit” He barked at them in frustration after being asked for the third time if he was alright, his voice laced with irritation and discomfort. Carol couldn't help but notice his pale and clammy appearance.

Her forehead creased into a frown as she tightly pursed her lips, giving Daryl a scolding look that made him uneasy. With a tone of concern, she asked, "I'm worried. When was the last you fed?"

The man's face twisted in discomfort as Rick and Carol stood in his space. He scoffed and muttered, "Not recently, m'fuckin' starvin'" The longer he stayed, the more his head spun and his vision blurred, causing the corners of his eyes to fade into a deep red color. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he could feel his teeth starting to ache.

Rick observed Daryl's malnourished skin, staring at how he was almost transparent. His eyes were screwed shut as the sun harshly burned his sensitive orbs, and he was gripping the strap of his crossbow so hard that his fingers were starting to turn red.

"You should go see Y/n," Rick said, eyes fixed on his friend. "She should be back home and she's been asking about you. I think she misses you." Daryl's body tensed at the sound of your name, and a sudden chill ran down his spine, causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. He tried to hide his reaction, but Rick's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing.

Daryl's head drooped weakly as he could only manage a feeble nod. Rick and Carol had stepped off to the side for him, offering their silent support. Carol placed her hand gently on his shoulder, her grey hair falling across her face as she did so. Rick, with his stern expression, gave Daryl a look that he knew meant there was no room for argument.

His senses were already heightened to an extreme level, almost at an overload as the sun was abnormally bright, almost blinding him, and the heat was scorching his skin. The texture of his vest was becoming increasingly uncomfortable, causing his already aching teeth to grind against each other. He could feel his razor-sharp fangs digging into the tender skin of his bottom lip, further adding to his discomfort.

His senses were already heightened to an extreme level, almost at an overload as the sun was abnormally bright, blazing down on him with a blinding intensity, making it difficult for him to even keep his eyes open. He could feel the heat searing his skin, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead and trickle down his face. He noticed the way that his vest rubbed uncomfortably against him, the fabric clinging to his skin and making him feel sticky and irritable. His already aching teeth began to grind down against each other, and he could feel his razor-sharp fangs digging into the tender skin of his bottom lip, further fueling his pure discomfort.

Each step he took in the direction of your house was tiring and heavy, his dirty, muddy boots slapping against the ground as he dragged himself through the streets, promptly ignoring any strangle or judgy looks that were thrown his way. He didn't have the time, let alone the strength to even bother paying them any mind. His stomach churned as his overwhelmed nose couldn't help but pick up the sickeningly sweet smell of blood.

It forced him to quicken his pace, trying to get just as far away from the public eye as he possible could. He didn't want to be looked at, didn't want to be stared at. He just wanted to get inside as soon as fucking possible and just tear off all his goddamn clothes. A ping of hope struck through him when he could see your familiar house only a short distance down the road, having to hold himself back from flat-out sprinting the rest of the way there.

Though it was only about a thirty-second walk, it had been the longest in his whole entire life, and walking up the small steps of your porch was like something out of a nightmare. He could disgustingly feel the material change in flooring when he stepped off the pavement and onto the creaky wood, the sound grating against his now way too-sensitive ears. Dear god, would someone fucking help him already?

Of course, as if on cue, the red front door to your house swung open, but instead of being met with a friendly face, he was met with the barrel of your gun.

"Daryl?" You questioned as you lowered the weapon slightly, a smile stretching across your lips once you had confirmed who was standing and dicking around on your porch. "Daryl!" You fully dropped your defensive position, stuffing the weapon in the band of your pants as you prepared to throw yourself at the man, halting when you finally took in his ruined appearance.

His breathing was labored, and it was hard to keep himself upright on his own two legs, forcing him to lean against the wall by the door. "Hey doll"

You scoffed at him in disbelief, "Don't you dare even "hey doll" me, mister! What the hell happened to you? Get in here right now" Grabbing the front of his vest and pulling his heavy body inside, Daryl groaning as each movement caused pain to his body, slumping against the door when you slammed it shut.

He couldn't be happier when he felt you prying the buttons of his stupidly itchy vest off, him shrugging it off as well as his crossbow, clattering down on the floor and probably chipping the metal further.

"Jesus Daryl, you look fucking terrible. Did you feed on anything at all out there?" You purse your lips as you analyze and checked his unnaturally pale chest, letting out a surprised hiss at the burn lingering on your fingers tips from where you had brushed them against the skin of his shoulder

Daryl groaned as you directed him to sit on the couch, the short steps from the front door already leaving him utterly winded, almost dripping in sweat as he wheezed each breath of air.

“‘Wasn’t much… ‘wasn’t much out there” He spoke breathlessly, head spinning and his stomach loudly churning when you stood in fromt of him.

When you extended a hand out to cup his face, he tightly gripped your wrist with a shaky hand. “Don’. Please don’” He didn’t want to feed from you, not like this, not in a state where he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t absolutely drain you.

“Daryl” You whispered softly, frowning slightly as you started taking your shirt off, and he wanted to scream at your stubbornness.

You straddled his lap and gently brushed the hair sticking to his forehead off, his blue eyes starting to tint red as the smell of your blood was strong, right in his face. “I don’ wanna”

“I know you don’t sweetheart, but you’ll die. What am I gonna do if you die?” You cupped his face, forcing his gaze onto yours. He whimpered slightly at your touch, his whole body sensitive and reactive.

Daryl shivered when you combed fingers through his hair, hands curling around your hips when you directed his head to your neck. “I trust you, more than I even trust myself” You whispered soothingly into his ear, and he almost wanted to cry.

He could smell the blood coursing through you like it was a burning candle, and his mouth was uncontrollably watering. His fangs were sharp and heavy, aching with the need to sink into your skin, which is exactly what he did, groaning against you at the first drops of blood, not wasting against another second before he was greedily taking mouthfuls.

It was so good, so warm and fresh, sweet and bitter. Daryl had drank lots of blood before, and yours was easily his favorite. He craved it during his time out there, not just because there was a serious lack in wild animals, but because it was addictive.

He squeezed your hips, soft and pillowy in his buzzing palms as he could feel himself starting to get hard in his pants, the more blood he swallowed the more drunk he got.

It made you feel good to watch his natural tan color fade back, his scarred back no longer a ghastly pale. You ran your fingers through his hair, occasionally curling your fingers and gripping the dark locks to grind down against his now-straining cock.

Daryl made soft, small sounds as he fed, each roll of your hips making each gulp of your blood taste so much better. His senses were at an all-time high, overwhelmed and at an absolute edge. He couldn’t help the way his hands pressed you down on his cock, hips desperately jerking against you as he could feel himself getting closer and closer, his head spinning in a blood lust haze.

He was so close, so very fucking close. His sharp claws had made themselves known, and you jolted when they painfully curled into your flesh, hips sputtering and slightly faltering in their movements. Daryl had no problem picking up the slack, almost fucking you right through his pants from how hard he was rutting up into you.

It was just all so much, his whole body on fire with pure arousal as he sighed around a final mouthful of crimson, trembling from his core as his orgasm washed over him, pressing your clothed cunt against him as hard as he could, making his already fuzzy mind draw a complete blank, a loud groan tearing from his throat that caused his fangs to slip out from where he had punctured the skin and drop his head against your shoulder, whimpering softly as he held you down.

You scratched his scalp comfortingly, feeling a little woozy from the amount of blood he had taken. He hummed against you as he started to come down from not only the high of his orgasm but bubbly buzz from his feast.

“Feel better?” You asked in a quiet, sleepy voice when Daryl’s tongue cleaned the drops of blood that had leaked from the small wounds, coating the area in his saliva so that it could heal.

He nodded as peppered you in appreciative and apologetic kisses, pulling you flush against his bare chest by wrapping his arms around your back, claws retracted and replaced with blunt nails. “M’sorry fer hurtin’, ya”

“Instead, you should be sorry for not feeding yourself, mister” You said as you shook your head, pinching his side as you got a bit upset again. “You know it scares me shitless when you do that”

“I know, I know. M’sorry for tha’ too” Daryl grumbled, feeling fatigued as well now that his tummy was full and satiated. His body was still weak and needed rest, now yours did as well considering he had taken a lot more than usual. “I’ll make it up to ya’” He said as he pushed himself up off the couch, grunting as it was a lot harder with tired muscles and one hand keeping his woman wrapped around him, adding a second once he was finally standing.

You giggled at that, arms hooked around his neck. “And just how will you do that?”

“Got a real good idea” Daryl smirked, hoisting you up as he ascended up the stairs to your shared bedroom, hungry for something else that was much better than blood.

I started writing this a few days ago I think this is the quickest I've written something

Vamp!Daryl is an absolute need. I'm loving every single post I see of him and I love watching the disease spread faster than fucking covid I jump for joy when I see someone I don't even know talking abt him is this what fame feels like is this what its like to be famous am I fucking famous

yes you do want more of this so go read more

Bloodthirsty @dixons-sunshine

Bite me @mydearestdaryl

166 notes · View notes