#felt like giffing and found this in my notes

[shmoo06]

x

[bowtiepasta]

PUMP IT UP WITH BLUE LOCK! pov: you take the boys to pilates, and let’s just say.. they’re not as tough as they look.

FEAT. oliver, sae, reo, shidou, isagi, bachira, rin

INDULGING: SFW. gif from the substance but the fic itself has nothing to do with it. est. relationships, a crackfic at times, obviously physical touch, some petnames here and there, language.

ROMY’S NOTE: I know they’re suuuper sore after and I know someone who can kiss them better (me. I’m talking about me.) these are all pretty cute but my favorites are shidou + isagi’s <3 enjoy

OLIVER AIKU ﾉ TALKS A BIG GAME BUT…

his legs shake in a downward dog, thighs tensing, arms burned from the reformer machine. the instructor corrects his form for the third time today. she reminds him, “engage your core.” — voice a stark contrast to the absolute war happening in his abs right now.

“my core is engaged,” he grits out, barely holding a plank while beads of sweat roll down his temple.

you shoot him a look from your own mat, perfectly stable in your pose. “no, it’s not.”

aiku huffs, trying to shift his weight off his trembling arms. “stop being a show-off.”

the single leg bridge was the final straw. the second he lifts one foot, his other leg betrays him, and he nearly collapses onto the machine.

you bite back a laugh. “tough guy, huh?”

aiku groans, staring up at the ceiling like it held all the answers. “next time we do this, you’re training with me on the field. see how you do on my turf, sweetheart.”

ITOSHI SAE ﾉ A BIG BABY ABOUT IT AFTER

sae was laying flat on the couch when you found him, arm draped over his eyes, the other resting limp on his stomach. he looked like he had just fought in a war. you stood in the doorway, shaking your head, watching the aftermath of one pilates class take its toll on your world-class athlete boyfriend.

you nudge his leg with your knee. “dramatic much?”

“I’m in pain.” his voice muffles against the leather as his back muscles flex beneath the jersey he chose.

you roll your eyes, walking over and settling beside him. “you’re acting like I dragged you through an obstacle course.”

sae turns his head enough to shoot you a deadpan look. “would’ve preferred that.”

you smile, reaching out to push his hair away from his face. he lets you, barely reacting except for the way his eyes flutter closed and his shoulders relax.

“you’ll survive,” you murmur, fingers trailing down to his traps, kneading lightly at the knots there.

he sighs, tension melting under your hands. you felt it before you heard it — the way his breath evened out, the weight of him sinking into the cushioning.

“not fair,” he grumbles into a throw pillow. there’s a drool stain on the corner of it where the tassels are.

you hum. “what’s not?”

“this.” he cracks an eye open, squinting at you. “putting me through hell and then acting all soft like it’ll make me forget.”

you smirk, fingers pressing a deeper into his back, earning you another quiet exhale. “will you?”

sae’s lips twitch, but he doesn’t answer. yeah.. you knew he’d be at the next class.

MIKAGE REO ﾉ ONLY FOR YOU

reo sat beside you on the edge of the studio floor, forearms resting on his knees, chest rising and falling in surprisingly steady breaths. the rest of the class were packing up, rolling up their mats and stuffing gossip down into their aritzia gym bags. he himself hadn't moved — just sat there, hands loose between his legs, like he needed a second to process.

his shirt clings to his skin, the soft fabric damp where it stretches across his chest and back. strands of violet hair sticks to his temples, beads of sweat trail down his adam’s apple before disappearing under his collar. you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to swipe across his chin, revealing a glimpse of toned abs, flushed slightly from exertion.

you lean onto his shoulder, still people watching. “penny for your thoughts?”

he let out a breath, half a laugh. “I knew it’d be hard, but damn.” he tilts his head toward you, eyes bright despite the exhaustion weighing down his limbs. “can’t believe you do this for fun.”

you grin, “I like seeing you like this.”

he raises a brow. “on the brink of death?”

“all worked up,” you correct, running a hand down his arm, feeling the way his muscles still tense beneath his skin. “‘s cute.”

“always complaining,” you continue, nails tracing lazy patterns onto his wrist, “still let me drag you anyway.”

“because you whine if I don’t go.”

you gasp, smacking him. “I do not whine.”

reo side-eyes you, unimpressed. “and I quote, ‘If you love me, you’ll go to pilates with me.’”

you laugh, fingers ghosting down the back of his neck. “and? you went.”

he laughs with you. “you’re lucky I love you.”

SHIDOU RYUSEI ﾉ LIKE A WARM UP

shidou casually leans against the reception desk, one arm draped over the counter as he smirks at the instructor behind it. he was still glowing from the class, tank top clinging to his torso in a way that made it obvious how ridiculously well he’d handled everything.

unlike the rest of the guys, who had groaned and limped their way out, he looked thrilled — like he could go another round if you let him.

the receptionist, a young woman who had definitely been watching him more than necessary during class, beams. “I have to say, you were reaaally impressive for your first time.” (dragging out the syllables more than necessary. over the top customer service voice)

you scoff, knowing he was about to run with this.

shidou grins, running a hand through his damp hair. “yeah? thought I did alright.”

you groan, smacking his arm. “don’t feed into it. he already thinks he’s god’s gift to pilates.”

she ignores you, the bitch.

“you were so natural at the movements,” another instructor chimes in. “most people struggle with control at first, but you were so — what’s the word? fluid?” you throw up in your mouth a little.

he preens, grin razor-sharp, eyes flicking towards you just to rub it in. “d’you hear that, babe?”

he turns, slinging an arm around your shoulders and tugging you in, all smug and pleased with himself. “guess I’m just built different.”

you exhale through your nose, sarcasm dripping. “guess so.”

the receptionists giggle. “you should come to our advanced class sometime.”

shidou clicks his tongue, tilting his head like he was seriously considering it. “that does sound fun.” then he nudges you, voice dropping enough for only you to hear. “wouldn’t mind seeing you all worked up again.”

you shove his arm off, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “let’s go, ryu.”

he laughs, waving to the staff before catching up to you. as you walk out, he leans in,

“you jealous?”

“never letting this go, are you?” you mutter.

shidou presses a lazy kiss to your temple, smirk never fading. “never.”

ISAGI YOICHI ﾉ EMERGENCY ROOM ?!

isagi sits in the waiting room, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic armrest. you’re next to him, watching his slightly hunched posture, damp sheen of sweat still visible on his neck as he wipes a hand across his forehead. the soreness was starting to set in.

“didn’t think you’d need a visit to the ER today.”

he shoots you a sheepish grin, rubbing his side like he pulled something. “‘m fine, only overdid it a little.”

you give him a pointed look. “you were on the floor for, like, more than half of the class.”

isagi’s lips twitch, embarrassed. you could tell he wasn’t used to being out of his depth. “it wasn’t like that. I was just — uh — working on my form.”

“form?” you ruffle his hair before sitting next to him, regretting it when you realize how much sweat he really had on there. “that what we’re calling it now?”

“yeah, well..” he massages the back of his neck, eyes darting between you and the bland hospital decor. half a warning sticker is chipped off of the window next to him. “there were some moves that were a little more difficult than I thought.”

you fight a smile. “got all cocky ‘cause you’re good at soccer, huh? thought this was going to be the same?”

he laughs, it sounding akin to relief. “guess I’m not invincible after all.”

you lean back, shake your head. “you’re just human.”

isagi shifts next to you, eyes soft. “I’m learning to respect the process. even if it kicks my ass.”

“you’ll survive,” you said as the nurse calls his name from the speaker. he stands up with a groan, wincing a little while you help him up, arm around your shoulder.

“yeah,” he said, letting out a low chuckle. “but I’m definitely going to need a massage after this.”

“I’ll be sure to take good care of you, hero.”

his grin was back in full force. “counting on it.”

MEGURU BACHIRA ﾉ A SOCIAL EXPERIMENT

this dude. he was better than the instructors. sure, bachira didn’t know the terms nor the names of the poses, but did that stop him from replicating them immediately after demonstration? no.

you leave the studio with not only a stack of coupons, but a stack of coupons and a JOB OFFER for this man to be an instructor himself, the application forms stuffed into the complimentary tote bags given (obviously to bribe him and you to somehow accept). they also smell like a weird combination of humidifier oils. emphasis on weird.

“you know,” he starts, eyes glinting as faces you, elbows resting on the couch beside you, “I think that was the most fun I've had in forever.”

you glance at him, mental image of him doing a backbend of the reformer failing to leave your brain. “really? more fun than soccer?”

he let out a dramatic sigh, sinking into his hoodie like it was the most important decision he’d made all day. “well, soccer’s great and all, but there's something about getting all bendy and flexible that really speaks to me.” his eyes flick to your lips. “plus, I got to see you struggle. that was pretty adorable.”

you roll your eyes. “I wasn’t struggling, I was,” you reply with mock offense. “just had-”

“mhm, sure, sure,” bachira interrupts, reaching over and brushing a lock of hair from your face. “anyway, I was actually thinking.. you know, we should do this more. not pilates. well, maybe pilates, but just.. us time.” his fingers linger on your cheeks, pinching.

“us time?” you mumble, scowling while you swat his hands away. “does this mean you’re taking me to your next soccer game?”

he leans in closer, hand brushing against yours, the warmth of his skin against yours somehow feeling more familiar than anything else. his thumb traces slow, deliberate circles over your knuckles as his voice drops to a softer, more sincere tone. “I just like being with you. only you, none of the boys or anything. seriously just us. today was nice.”

“you’re a real sap, you know that?”

he chuckles, hands settling on the armrests to jump up and kiss your forehead. “only for you.”

ITOSHI RIN ﾉ LOCKER ROOM CLOWN SHOES

rin’s muscles ache in places he didn’t even know existed, and the soreness, compounded by the intensity of the soccer game earlier, was making him seriously regret not just letting you have your way with the whole pilates thing.

he leans back, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes narrowing as the pain shot through him. the guys — scattered around the locker room, were laughing and teasing as they got dressed, but it was hard to focus on them with the phone call vibrating softly in his hand.

“hey, I’m here,” rin says into the speaker, trying to sound casual, though the subtle groan in his voice gave away more than he intended. “-game just ended.”

the background noise blurs as you speak on the other end, voice soothing his exhaustion. “feeling okay?”

rin rolls his eyes, glancing over at the group making their way towards the exit. he could hear them snickering, probably about something they noticed — most likely the fact that his walk was a bit stiff, his posture not as fluid as it usually was.

“‘m fine, just sore from.. you know..” he winces, trying to stretch his arm without making a sound, though it was practically impossible to hide the discomfort. “from everything, really.”

in the background, someone — likely one of the forwards — shouts, “yo, itoshi! you good? looks like you’re getting soft.” rin pinches the bridge of his nose, a fraudulent attempt to ignore them.

you laugh, the sound clear and warm through the phone, and rin’s lips lift into a reluctant smile.

“they’re giving you a hard time?”

“they’re assholes,” he corrects, before switching the subject. “come over and take care of me later?”

romy 🐰 is typing… hi from march 16th. as of today at hour 12:15 in the afternoon I am head over heels for itoshi sae

© bowtiepasta: do not copy edit or repost anywhere

[theetherealbloom]

Don't Stop Talking To Me, And Maybe Stay Here Forever

Summary: You join Pedro Pascal in Morocco while he’s filming Gladiator 2. Between the beauty of the Moroccan landscape, the two of you share intimate moments, from quiet rooftop dinners to playful photo-taking and teasing with the cast.

Or… “I'll hold you, I'll know you. I'll never leave out the back door. And I'd love to complete you, hope you get all you could ask for.”

I just read your latest pedro fic it was the BEST DAMN THING i���ve ever read, my heart is going to burst out of my chest from all the butterflies 🦋🫠❤️ will you write more for pedro? perhaps his gf could visit him in marocco or something while he’s filming gladiator and to meet everyone from set and maybe have some alone quality time? :3 just a suggestion 😌 anyways have a lovely dayyy ^^ — anon

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, Age-Gap(ish), TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Cheesy Dialogue, Cuddling, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Social Media, Embarrassment, Teasing, Shower, Slight Nudity, Make Out Session, Celebrities

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Okay, so, we’ve all seen the photo dumps!??!! Yes! GREAT! I haven’t watched Gladiator 2 cause it isn’t out yet in my country, so there’ll be no spoilers here mhmhmhmhm. I’m just gonna make stuff up based on the pictures Pedro posted on his Instagram lol. And again, this is all made-up, fictional, self-indulgent vibes so pls no one come after me ahhhhhh T^T

Also lowkey, I can see multiple parts to this so… stay tuned.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Songs: Packing It Up by Gracie Abrams, this is how you fall in love by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler

gif by @a7estrellas

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — DAY

The warm Moroccan breeze kissed your skin as you stepped onto the bustling set of Gladiator 2. Pedro’s laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinct voice easy to pick out over the hum of activity. Your heart swelled just hearing it. He was always magnetic, but here—working, immersed in a world of creativity and camaraderie—he was luminous.  

You adjusted your sunglasses, feeling both excited and slightly anxious. Meeting Pedro’s castmates felt like stepping into his other life, one where you weren’t the center of his world but a welcome visitor orbiting it. He’d reassured you endlessly. “They’ll love you. I mean, how could they not?” But still, nerves lingered.  

“Mi amor!” Pedro’s voice cut through your thoughts. He emerged from behind a cluster of tents, his smile so wide it could eclipse the Moroccan sun.  

“Hey, stranger.” You grinned, letting him sweep you into a tight hug.  

He pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his arms still firmly around your waist. “You made it,” he whispered, his lips brushing your temple.  

“Of course, I made it,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I missed you too much to stay away.”  

The day unfolded in bursts of joy.  

Pedro introduced you to Coco Ullrich, Paul Mescal, and the rest of the cast. Everyone was warm and welcoming, their teasing camaraderie quickly drawing you in. Pedro stayed close, his hand finding yours at every opportunity, like he couldn’t stand to be too far away.  

Later, you found yourself perched on a stool in the makeup trailer, Pedro sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of you. “Hold still,” you said, trying to fix his disheveled hair.  

Coco stood nearby, laughing as Pedro playfully swatted at your hands. “I’m serious, guapo! You’ll go out there looking like you just rolled out of bed.”  

“Maybe I did roll out of bed,” he quipped, grinning.  

You raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t, but if you keep squirming, I’m going to make sure you look like it.”  

Coco shook her head, still laughing. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”  

“I have my ways,” you said, giving Pedro a mock glare.  

Pedro leaned closer, his eyes softening. “You’re lucky I love you,” he murmured, his lips brushing yours before you could stop him.  

“Pedro!” you protested, laughing as he pulled you into a full kiss, distracting you from your task.  

“Hopeless,” Coco muttered, snapping a quick photo of the moment.  

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO — SUNSET

The Moroccan sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and rose as you, Pedro, and the cast settled onto the soft blankets laid out for an impromptu picnic. The sprawling desert seemed to stretch infinitely, its serene stillness a striking contrast to the chaotic energy of the set. A light breeze rustled through the palm trees in the distance, carrying the faint sound of laughter and the clinking of glasses.

Pedro sat behind you, his arms comfortably wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into his chest. His fingertips absentmindedly traced small, lazy circles on your bare skin where your shirt had ridden up slightly. It was a touch that grounded you, soothing and sweet, and yet it made your heart ache with affection.

“This is perfect,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it louder might shatter the fragile beauty of the moment.

Pedro leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear. “No, you’re perfect,” he said softly, his voice laced with adoration.

You turned your head to look at him, catching the warmth in his gaze. He looked at you like you hung the very stars above, and your cheeks flushed. “Cheesy,” you teased, though you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“Honest,” he countered, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. His nose nudged yours affectionately, and for a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of you.

Paul Mescal, lounging nearby with a bottle of something cold in his hand, cleared his throat dramatically. “Alright, lovebirds, can you save the smoldering for the cameras? Some of us are trying to enjoy the sunset without third-wheeling your Notebook audition.”

Coco Ullrich snorted from her spot on the blanket, where she was busy assembling a makeshift charcuterie board. “Please, Paul, don’t act like you’re not taking notes for your own love scenes.”

Paul shot her a deadpan look. “What’s there to take notes on? I’m already perfect.”

“Debatable,” Coco quipped, popping a grape into her mouth and grinning.  

Pedro chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back. “Paul, don’t be jealous. You already found someone who tolerates you.”  

“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Paul said, gesturing between you and Pedro. “I’m inspired. The level of clinginess you two have achieved—it’s an art form.”  

“Clinginess?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yes, clinginess,” Paul said, smirking. “He hasn’t let go of you since you got here. It’s like watching a koala in human form.”

Coco leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you think he’d survive a day without her?”  

“Doubtful,” Paul replied, his tone grave.  

Pedro shook his head, his arms tightening around you playfully. “Let them joke,” he said into your ear, his voice a low murmur. “They’re just bitter they don’t have their partners to hold them while they complain about the heat.”  

You turned your head slightly to whisper back, “I think they’re projecting.”  

Pedro laughed, loud and unabashed, and the sound sent warmth flooding through you.  

“Alright, enough roasting Pedro,” Coco said, waving her hands. “Let’s focus on the important stuff—like this cheese board I’m absolutely nailing.”

“Coco, you put a block of cheese next to some crackers,” Paul pointed out.  

“And yet, it’s still better than anything you’ve contributed,” she shot back.

You couldn’t help but laugh as they continued to bicker, the dynamic between the cast a perfect blend of teasing and genuine affection. It felt good to be a part of this world for a little while, to see Pedro in his element and to share these small, beautiful moments with the people who meant so much to him.  

As the sun dipped lower, painting the sky with deeper hues of crimson and violet, Pedro shifted slightly behind you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You doing okay, sweetheart?” he asked softly, his voice meant just for you.

“I’m better than okay,” you said, turning your face to his. “This is one of those moments I’ll never forget.”

“Same,” he replied, his eyes searching yours. “But mostly because you’re here.”

Paul groaned from across the blanket. “Seriously, someone hand me a bucket. I can’t handle this level of sap.”

“You’re just missing Gracie,” Coco teased, tossing a cracker at Paul with a sly grin.  

Paul caught it mid-air with a dramatic flourish. “She’s the love of my life, thank you very much. I’m thriving, just long-distance thriving.” His wide smile softened slightly, a dreamy look crossing his face.  

Pedro chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder as he held you closer. “See, even Paul can be romantic. It’s not just us being disgustingly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Paul said, waving him off, though the grin never left his face. “But you two are setting the bar impossibly high. Stop making the rest of us look bad.”

Coco shook her head with mock exasperation. “Let’s face it, no one can compete with Pedro’s clingy koala act.”  

“Hey, it’s not clingy if it’s mutual,” you chimed in, leaning back into Pedro’s embrace.  

“Exactly!” Pedro said, kissing the side of your neck for emphasis. “This is just... efficient affection.”  

“Efficient affection?” Coco repeated, laughing so hard she nearly knocked over the cheese board. “That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

Pedro shrugged, utterly unbothered, his lips brushing your temple as he murmured, “Don’t let them ruin this for us.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you whispered back, tilting your head to press a soft kiss to his jaw.  

The first stars began to dot the darkening sky, their glow faint but steady against the fading hues of gold and rose. The laughter of the group blended with the soothing whisper of the desert breeze, wrapping the evening in a cocoon of warmth and love.

You let out a contented sigh, your fingers intertwining with Pedro’s. These moments—filled with jokes, tenderness, and the quiet magic of a Moroccan sunset—were the kind you knew you’d carry with you forever.

THE NEXT DAY

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – AFTERNOON  

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting warm golden light over the sprawling desert set. The faint hum of activity outside the large tent provided a calming backdrop as you and Pedro sat together, stealing a moment away from the chaos of production.  

Pedro’s lap had become your designated resting place, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist as you leaned into him. You had been quietly chatting about the day—how stunning the desert looked on camera, how Paul had stolen one of Coco’s snacks during a break—when the warmth of the afternoon began to lull you both into sleep.  

His hand moved lazily up and down your back, the motion soothing as his voice grew quieter, more relaxed. “You know,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple, “this might be my favorite part of the day.”  

“Falling asleep during work?” you teased, your voice soft and playful.  

“Falling asleep with you,” he corrected, his smile audible in his words.  

It wasn’t long before exhaustion claimed you both, your head tucked under his chin and his cheek resting against your hair. The quiet hum of the tent became a comforting cocoon, and time seemed to stretch and blur.  

The sound of muffled laughter stirred you from sleep, pulling you out of the warm haze. You blinked against the light, realizing you were still tucked into Pedro’s chest, his arms holding you close even as he began to wake.  

“Don’t move,” a familiar voice called. You turned your head to see Paul Mescal standing a few feet away, phone in hand, his grin wide and mischievous.  

Next to him, Coco Ullrich smirked as she aimed her phone at the two of you. “We’re documenting history here. You’ll thank us later.”  

Pedro stirred, squinting at them through his grogginess. “Seriously?” His voice was raspy, a mix of sleep and disbelief.  

Paul shrugged, grinning even wider as he showed Pedro the photo. “We couldn’t resist. Look at this. It’s like a promo poster for the most annoyingly sweet rom-com ever.”  

Pedro glanced at the photo, then at you, and laughed softly. “We should use that for the holiday cards this year.”  

You groaned, burying your face in his chest. “This is so embarrassing. They’re never going to let us live this down.”  

Coco laughed, flipping through her photos. “Oh, it’s way too late for that. I’m sending this to the group chat and the PR team. They’ll love it.”  

“Please don’t,” you pleaded, your voice muffled against Pedro’s shirt.  

Paul tilted his head dramatically. “Why not? It’s just a little fun. Besides, you two are giving us all cavities with how sweet you are. We’re suffering.”  

Pedro smirked, holding you a little tighter. “You’re suffering? Sounds like a personal problem.”  

“Alright, alright, enough!” A gravelly voice interrupted, and you looked up to see Ridley Scott standing at the edge of the tent. His hands were on his hips, but the amused twinkle in his eye gave him away.  

“Ridley,” you started, your cheeks flushing with heat. “I’m so sorry—”  

He held up a hand to stop you, his smirk growing. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should thank you. Pedro’s been suspiciously well-behaved since you arrived. But,” he added with a pointed glance at Pedro, “if this keeps up, we’ll have to rename the film The Gladiator and the Muse. Production’s going to take twice as long.”  

The crew burst into laughter, and you buried your face back in Pedro’s chest, groaning. “This is officially the most embarrassing moment of my life.”  

Pedro chuckled, his hand brushing gently over your back. “Embarrassing? Nah. You’re the best thing about being here.”  

You peeked up at him, your cheeks still warm, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You mean that?”  

“Every word,” he said, his voice soft. “You make everything easier, better… you make it all worth it.”  

Your heart swelled, and a small smile broke through your embarrassment. “Okay,” you whispered. “I’ll try to believe you.”  

“Believe me,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.  

Paul groaned, breaking the tender moment. “Someone get a camera crew. We’re turning this into a reality show. Lovebirds in the Desert.”  

Pedro laughed, finally standing and pulling you to your feet. “Careful, Paul. You might not survive the sequel.”  

Ridley clapped his hands, his voice carrying over the lingering laughter. “Alright, lovebirds, enough stalling. Let’s get back to work! Pedro, we’ve got a fight scene to shoot.”  

Pedro gave you one last reassuring smile before winking. “Don’t go far. I’ll need more luck soon.”  

You nodded, watching him head back to set, and felt a sense of warmth that no amount of teasing could dampen. As you stepped out of the tent, the desert sun shining overhead, you knew this moment—this strange, beautiful mix of chaos and love—was one you’d carry with you forever.

OUARZAZATE, MOROCCO – EVENING  

The rooftop restaurant was like something out of a dream. Lanterns hung delicately from wrought iron fixtures, casting warm, flickering light over the table as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was cool but pleasant, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from a nearby garden. Below, the city of Marrakech stretched out in an intricate maze of rooftops and twinkling lights, the hum of life soft and distant.  

Pedro had arranged everything, from the secluded corner table to the small vase of your favorite flowers waiting when you arrived. He always had a way of making even the simplest moments feel like magic.  

“Look at this view,” you murmured, leaning against the wrought iron railing as the sky turned from gold to a deep, dusky pink.  

Pedro stood close behind you, his hand resting gently on the small of your back. “The view’s got nothing on you,” he said softly, the teasing lilt in his voice balanced by the sincerity in his eyes.  

You laughed, shaking your head as you turned to face him. “That’s a terrible line.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted, grinning as he pulled out his phone. “But it’s true. Hold still.”  

Before you could protest, he snapped a photo, catching you mid-laugh as you tried to dodge the camera. “Pedro!” you groaned, your cheeks warming.  

He chuckled, looking at the photo with a self-satisfied smile. “Perfect. Might frame this one.”  

“Stop it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from him, but he held it out of reach, his grin only widening.  

“Never,” he replied, his free hand reaching across the table to take yours. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and his gaze softened. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”  

Your stomach fluttered at the way he said it—no teasing this time, just quiet, earnest affection.  

“Now you’re just being unfair,” you muttered, trying to hide your blush.  

Pedro leaned forward, his head tilting slightly as if to study you closer. “Not unfair. Just honest.”  

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart was pounding. In a bid to regain some ground, you grabbed your own phone and quickly snapped a picture of him just as he brought your hand to his lips. The resulting photo was unfairly good—his lashes long, the lantern light catching the gold in his eyes, the softness in his expression making your chest ache.  

“Got you,” you said triumphantly, holding up the phone.  

Pedro laughed, his thumb brushing over your knuckles again as he met your gaze. “Now we’re even?”  

“Now we’re even,” you confirmed, though your grin gave away how smug you felt.  

The waiter arrived with dessert just then—a delicate plate of Moroccan pastries accompanied by a small bowl of honey and almonds. You both leaned forward at the same time, reaching for the same pastry, and burst into laughter when your fingers brushed.  

“Go ahead,” Pedro said, gesturing gallantly.  

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, breaking off a piece of the pastry and dipping it into the honey. You held it up to his lips, your pulse skipping when he leaned in without hesitation.  

“Delicious,” he said, his voice low and warm. “But I think it tastes better coming from you.”  

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, trying to suppress a smile as you took a bite yourself. The flaky pastry melted on your tongue, its sweetness perfectly balanced by the honey.  

As you shared the dessert, your conversation drifted from playful teasing to the little things that filled your days. Pedro told you about a funny moment on set earlier when Paul had forgotten his lines and improvised something so absurd even Ridley couldn’t stop laughing.  

“And then,” Pedro continued, his grin infectious, “he tried to blame me, saying my face was too distracting.”  

“Well, he’s not wrong,” you teased, earning a dramatic roll of Pedro’s eyes.  

“Oh, so now you’re on his side?”  

“I’m on the side of the truth,” you said, popping an almond into your mouth.  

Pedro chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”  

Your smile softened, and you leaned your chin on your hand as you looked at him. “Probably still charming everyone who crosses your path.”  

“Not like this,” he said, his tone suddenly serious. He reached across the table again, his fingers lacing with yours. “You make everything better. You make me better.”  

Your throat tightened at the rawness in his voice, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, his words settling deep in your chest.  

“You do the same for me,” you said quietly.  

The soft music playing in the background faded into the hum of the city as the two of you sat there, the world narrowing to just this moment. Pedro brought your hand to his lips again, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before resting your joined hands on the table.  

As the night stretched on, the two of you continued to talk about everything and nothing—your favorite childhood memories, the places you wanted to visit together, the little quirks you loved about each other.  

When it was time to leave, Pedro stood and extended a hand to help you up. “One last picture before we go?” he asked, his phone already in hand.  

You nodded, letting him pull you into his side. The lanterns glowed softly behind you as he kissed your cheek just as the camera clicked.  

Looking at the photo, you smiled. It was perfect—just like this night, just like him. 

L’HÔTEL MARRAKECH, MOROCCO – EVENING

The golden hues of the evening sun had long faded, leaving the hotel suite illuminated only by the soft glow of warm, ambient lighting. Laughter filled the room, bubbling up between stolen glances and playful teasing. Pedro leaned against the edge of the plush sofa, his hand resting casually on his hip as you doubled over with giggles at another one of his overly dramatic impressions. 

“I’m just saying,” he said with a grin, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “If anyone here is getting an Oscar for Most Entertaining Human, it’s me.”

You rolled your eyes, swatting at him lightly. “You? Entertaining? Please. You’re just lucky I think you’re cute.”

“Just cute?” he teased, his voice dropping into a low, mock-hurt murmur. He stepped closer, tilting his head. “That’s disappointing.”

And just like that, with no warning, he took your hand and spun you gently into his arms. There was no music, no sound but the faint rustle of the curtains and the muted hum of life outside your window. But to Pedro, there was no need for anything more. 

“Dance with me,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, pulling you flush against him.

“Pedro,” you started to protest, but the way he was looking at you—so earnest, so unguarded—stole the words from your lips. He rested his forehead against yours, his arms wrapping around you like he was afraid to let go. 

“You are the reason I can breathe,” he murmured. His voice cracked slightly, raw and unfiltered. “The reason I can survive.”

Your chest tightened, and your hands gripped the soft cotton of his shirt as you closed your eyes. Slowly, the two of you began to sway, side to side, as if the universe itself had orchestrated this silent melody just for you.

“Pedro,” you whispered, tears threatening to spill as the weight of his words sank deep into your soul. “You don’t have to—”

“Shh.” He cut you off gently, his lips brushing the crown of your head. “I want to. You’re my safe place.”

Together, you moved as one, the world outside forgotten. The phones were switched off, the curtains drawn, and for a moment, it felt like time had ceased to exist. All that mattered was this—his arms around you, your head resting on his chest, and the way his heartbeat felt steady and strong beneath your cheek.

“What’s easy is right,” you whispered suddenly, echoing words your mother had once said. The truth of it struck you in that moment, how being with Pedro never felt like a choice—it was instinct. Like breathing. Like coming home. 

Pedro smiled, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “What’s easy is right,” he repeated softly. “Then I guess it’s easy to know... I’m going to love you forever.”

You laughed softly, though the lump in your throat made it difficult. “Forever’s a long time.”

He tilted your chin up, his warm, brown eyes crinkling at the corners with a quiet joy. “Not nearly long enough,” he said, his voice a low promise. “You’ll be my best friend until we’re old and gray. And even then, I’ll still love you.”

There was something in the way he said it—so simple, so sure—that your knees nearly gave out. But as always, Pedro was there, holding you steady, keeping you close. 

This is how you fall in love, you realized. Not in a blaze of fireworks, but in the quiet moments where you let go and they hold you up. 

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?” Pedro said after a long silence, his voice filled with wonder. “You make my stomach ache with hope. You make my hands stop shaking. I wake up smiling now, and it’s because of you.”

You bit your lip, your fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest. “Pedro…”

“No, listen to me,” he insisted, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Love isn’t supposed to be heavy. It’s not supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to be this. Us. A safe place. A hand to hold through every storm.”

His words broke something open inside you, and you nodded, letting the tears spill over. “You’re my safe place too,” you whispered. “You make me believe I deserve this.”

Pedro pulled you closer, resting his chin on the top of your head as he swayed you gently. “You deserve everything,” he murmured. “Every laugh, every sunrise, every stupid little joke I’ll tell for the next fifty years.”

You both laughed softly, the sound mingling with the quiet hum of the room. The world outside could wait. For now, all that mattered was this moment—this love that was soft, steady, and unshakable.

Right from your hips to your cuticles, you were everything to him, and he was everything to you. Wherever you both went, it was heaven. And neither of you ever wanted to leave. 

Steam filled the bathroom, the warmth clinging to the mirrors and wrapping around the two of you like a soft cocoon. Pedro stood under the cascade of water, droplets running down his broad shoulders and soaking his messy curls. His eyes flicked toward you, a tender smile tugging at his lips as you stepped closer, your fingers gently reaching for the shampoo bottle.  

“Turn around,” you said softly, motioning for him to face away from you.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he teased, though there was a hint of shyness in his voice as he obeyed.  

You lathered the shampoo between your hands, your touch careful and affectionate as you worked it into his hair. His curls were soft and damp beneath your fingers, the grays glinting like silver in the dim light.  

“I love your hair,” you murmured, your voice reverent.  

Pedro let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle, tilting his head back slightly. “The gray makes me look old.”  

You paused, your hands stilling in his hair as you leaned around to catch his gaze. “Stop that. It doesn’t make you look old; it makes you look distinguished. And I happen to love every single one of these.” You tugged playfully at a curl for emphasis.  

He gave you a sheepish look, his lips twitching as he fought back a pout. “You’re just saying that because you’re stuck with me.”  

“Stuck with you?” you repeated, feigning outrage. “Oh, no, Pedro. I chose you—gray hair and all. And I’d choose you again. Every single day.”  

His pout softened into a smile, one so genuine it made your chest ache. “You’re too good to me,” he murmured, leaning in to press a kiss to your temple.  

“And you deserve it,” you countered firmly, finishing his hair with a rinse.  

When it was your turn, Pedro insisted on returning the favor, his hands gentle as he massaged the conditioner into your hair. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck as he marveled at you.  

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with sincerity.  

“Even covered in soap?” you teased, feeling heat creep up your cheeks.  

“Especially covered in soap,” he replied, leaning down to steal a kiss.  

The shower ended with a flurry of soft laughter and playful splashes, the two of you wrapped in towels as you padded into the bedroom. Pedro pulled on a pair of boxers while you slipped into one of his oversized shirts, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.  

The two of you slipped into bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden light over the room. The air smelled faintly of the lavender lotion you’d rubbed on your hands, mingling with the subtle hint of Pedro’s cologne that still lingered on his skin. He had one arm draped lazily over your waist, his other hand holding a book he’d claimed to be interested in, though his wandering eyes betrayed him.

A book rested in your lap, too, but you’d long given up on reading. Instead, you could feel his gaze flickering to you, watching you more than the words on his page. It was endearing, the way he thought you wouldn’t notice, how he never grew tired of studying you like he’d never quite figure you out.  

“You’re not reading,” you finally accused, peeking at him over the edge of your book.  

Pedro grinned, unabashed. He set his book down on the nightstand and scooted closer, leaning his head on the pillow beside you. “Can you blame me?” he said, his voice soft and teasing. His hand reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “I’ve got the most beautiful view right here.”  

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the warmth rising in your cheeks, but the smile that stretched across your lips betrayed you. “You’re ridiculous,” you murmured, nudging him lightly with your elbow.  

“And yet, you love me,” he replied with mock arrogance, leaning back against the headboard with a self-satisfied smirk.  

“Unfortunately for me,” you quipped, though your tone was dripping with affection.  

Pedro’s laugh filled the room, low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket. You settled back into your spot, his arm tightening slightly around your waist, anchoring you to him. For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning and the occasional creak of the bed as one of you shifted.  

Eventually, the books were forgotten, abandoned on the nightstand as the room grew darker, the soft click of the lamp switch plunging you into the comforting glow of moonlight spilling through the curtains.  

Lying side by side, your head resting on Pedro’s chest, you let your fingers trace lazy patterns along the bare skin of his arm. But your mind wouldn’t quiet, and as the minutes stretched on, the thoughts bubbling inside you demanded to be voiced.  

“Okay, but really,” you began, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “Why is ‘llama’ spelled with two L’s? Wouldn’t one be enough? It’s not like we say ‘Llama-la.’”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest beneath your cheek. He tilted his head down to look at you, his lips quirking into a smile. “Mi amor, I adore you, but it’s almost midnight. Go to sleep.”  

“I can’t until I solve this mystery,” you said with mock determination, lifting your head to look at him.  

He sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine. Maybe the second ‘L’ is there to confuse aliens.”  

You gasped, sitting up slightly. “That makes so much sense! Like, imagine aliens judging us for eating cereal with milk.”  

Pedro chuckled again, his arm tightening around you to keep you close. “Cereal with milk is sacred,” he said, his voice heavy with playful conviction. “If aliens have an issue with that, I’ll fight them myself.”  

You grinned, turning to prop yourself up on your elbow so you could face him fully. “Okay, serious question. If you could ask someone anything and be guaranteed the truth, who would it be?”  

Pedro cracked one eye open, his other hand lazily resting on your hip. “I’d ask you why you’re so determined to keep me awake,” he deadpanned, his lips twitching with a suppressed smile.  

You laughed, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m serious!”  

“Alright, alright,” he relented, the mirth in his eyes softening as he considered your question. “I’d ask my third-grade teacher if she really lost my homework or if she just didn’t like me.”  

You burst out laughing, the sound muffled by the way you buried your face into his chest. “That’s what you’d waste your question on?”  

“Don’t judge me,” he said with mock indignation, his fingers trailing absent patterns on your back. “It’s haunted me for years.”  

Your laughter subsided into a warm giggle as you tilted your head up to look at him. “Fine. My turn. I’d ask my mom if she’s proud of me. Like… really proud. Not just the ‘I’m your mom, so I have to say it’ kind of proud.”  

Pedro’s hand stilled on your back, his gaze softening as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “She’s proud of you, baby,” he murmured against your skin. “And so am I. Always.”  

The weight of his words wrapped around your heart, a comforting balm that eased the ache of self-doubt. You nuzzled closer, your fingers curling around his as you let the quiet stretch between you for a moment.  

Moments later, you broke the silence again, your voice a whisper in the dark. “When I was little, I thought my toys came alive when I wasn’t looking. Like Toy Story. Honestly, I still kinda think they do.”  

Pedro let out a deep laugh, his chest shaking beneath you as he pulled you even closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said, his voice warm with amusement. “Your stuffed bunny? Definitely a troublemaker.”  

You giggled, your heart feeling impossibly light as his hand returned to its slow, soothing patterns on your back.  

The conversation drifted into comfortable nonsense, the kind of midnight musings that didn’t need to make sense but brought a certain kind of intimacy only shared in the quiet hours of the night.  

Finally, as your eyelids grew heavy and your words faded into murmurs, Pedro pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, mi amor,” he whispered, his voice soft and steady.  

In his arms, with the world outside forgotten, you felt safe. Loved. His heartbeat was the only rhythm you needed as you drifted into sleep, a love like no other holding you steady through the night.

[heathermason6060]

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader Smut: Teasing will get you Somewhere

Gif found on Pinterest unknown credit

Warnings/Mentions: Blue balls, Dark/Rough!Daryl, sexual teasing (Daryl receiving) rough sex, spitting, choking, manhandling, biting, blood blisters, spanking, bruising, it might smell like dubcon but it's not

Summary: Reader wants to see Daryl at his breaking point, teasing and depriving him of release until he gets there. 

Notes: I loved writing this so much. While trying to think of a plot for dark!Daryl I remembered this idea/prompt someone had like 5 years ago where the reader teases a guy until he cracks and just goes crazy. I think it was a fanfiction, but I looked through my bookmarks and ao3 history and couldn't find anything like this so if you know what I'm talking about please let me know!!

All you wanted from the start was to see Daryl snap. He was such an aggressive loudmouthed man, but not in the way you wanted him to be. 

He'd started flirting with you to appease Merle, the man who'd instantly noticed how you swooned around Daryl. The younger Dixon didn't believe him, of course, but he approached you to avoid the harsh blows of Merle calling him a ‘belly-up pussy’ along with more distasteful slurs. 

His way of “flirting” was a lot like Merles at first. Offensive, inappropriate, you know the rest. You'd been patient enough to politely explain that you weren't like the type of women that would fuck Merle after he called them a 'sweet piece of Georgian ass', and he took the hint. 

Daryl was shockingly sweet after that. He was less verbal after learning vulgar compliments weren't the way to go, but it turned out alright for you in the end. He began looking after you like you were his full responsibility. Making sure you were fed first, bringing home clothes specifically for you, along with any other treats he thought you might like. 

It was great, aside from him never making a move on you. He gawked like you were an alien when you started dressing for his gaze, Bobby Brooks shorts, pretty tank tops, even shaving your legs once in a while. But he never made a move. 

That simply wouldn't do. 

It was late one night and you'd slipped into his tent. 

“The hell you doin'?” He cursed, wiping the sleep from his eyes as you zipped up the flap behind you. 

“Can't sleep, Carl won't stop coughing.” 

You'd been sharing a tent with Lori and Carl ever since you arrived with T-Dog. It wasn't a complete lie, Carl was coughing up a storm, sick with some chest cold, but that wasn't the reason for your lack of sleep.

“I got some earplugs.” He sat up and began shifting through his bags. 

“No, it's okay. Can I crash here tonight?” You asked innocently, kicking off your casual flip flops that you saved for night time piss breaks or trips to get water. 

Daryl tried hiding his surprise . The stutter in his voice gave him away. “Uh, sure, I guess. S’long as ya dun snore.”

You behaved for an impressive amount of time. Lying in silence, not moving an inch, waiting for him to loosen up before quietly shifting backwards until your back was pressed up against his chest. 

His heart felt seconds away from collapsing in on itself when he felt you. He'd popped a semi when you'd taken off that big T-shirt he'd given you, and now it was bordering on a full on erection.

You waited until you felt his body relax, which took longer than you originally estimated, and then wiggled your hips. 

The reaction was immediate. He sucked in a breath through his nose and made this choking sound. He grabbed your hips, only for a split second before yanking his hands away like he'd been burned. 

You wiggled again, pushing back until the feeling of the outline of his dick against your ass was ingrained into your memory. 

It didn't take long to wear him down, not at all. He let out a strangled groan and rocked into you, his self restraint long since thrown out the window.

And then you stopped.

He nearly gasped at the loss of friction. The feeling was so devastating that it sobered him, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

“Wha-” he panted. His fingers loosened their hold on your hips and twitched against the fabric of your pajama shorts. “Why'd ya stah- stop?”

“I'm sleepy.” You said plainly, pulling the thin sheet up to your shoulders in emphasis. 

Daryl caught his breath behind you, struggling to make sense of it all through his confusion and disappointment. He grumbled something that sounded like it held an attitude, though sadly that was the extent of his protests. 

You needed more. You needed him to tear your clothes off and ravish you like the animal you knew he was. The Daryl that feverishly humped you like his life depended on it was cute, but you needed the Daryl that he was in his daily life. 

The only way you could think of was to force it out of him, even if it did torture the poor man in the process. 

You kept up the innocent teasing for a while. You took a break after Merle went missing, you knew your limits and his. You weren't a total selfish piece of shit. Only when you arrived at the farm and he began talking to you again did you resume your game of “teasing Daryl until he cracks”.

“How's it look?” You gave a cheeky smile as you turned in a circle with your hands on your hips. 

You'd put on the pair of green cargo shorts he'd found you. They weren't very practical, holding only four pockets, which was less than normal cargo shorts, but they were scandalous. The fabric hugged your ass tight enough to look damn near pornographic. 

“Didn't realize they were that tiny. Christ.” Daryl muttered with pink cheeks. “Jus’ give ‘em ta Beth. 

“Oh god. Can you imagine her face? That girl is still wearing pants in late summer. Her daddy would kill me.” You snorted and turned back to face him. “I'm keeping these bad boys. The fabric is soft. Wanna feel?” 

“Already felt em when I took em.” Despite his words, he set down his knife to free up his hands. 

“Give me your hand.” 

The poor boy was so eager to feel you that he practically threw his hands in yours. When you placed his palms on the sides of your shorts he seemed to snap to life, dropping the nonchalant attitude to rub his thumbs over the fabric covering your hips and thighs. 

You tried to keep the smug smirk off your face, and failed miserably. He was turning himself on just by touching the clothing that covered your pelvis. 

Suddenly, you pulled away, feeling your heart lurch in your chest at the way his face dropped.

“Thanks again. I've been needing new shorts.” 

“Yeah. Uh-huh. S'nothin.”

It went on like that for a while. 

One night you climbed into his tent again with the ruse of being cold, and he didn't mention the fact it was a warm seventy degrees that night. You were wearing nothing but an oversized T-shirt and panties, and made sure to make Daryl aware of this when you slid your knee over his thigh. 

Nothing happened that night either, nothing other than pretending to sleep while he palmed himself through his jeans. 

Another time you put on those green cargo shorts and offered to tidy up his camp, an offer he was quick to accept just so he could watch you needlessly bend over to grab random objects to place somewhere else. 

Once you even made out with him. Late at night in his tent, things got hot and heavy and you straddled him, wearing the same oversized T-shirt and panties, washed since then, of course. 

He was nervous at first, you could tell by the way his hands trembled on their way up your sides. You kissed him slow and sweet, nothing too extreme, not until he pushed his hot tongue against your lips. 

You let him in and groaned at the enthusiasm he showed. He kissed you like you were still teenagers, up in the loft of some barn hiding away from Daddy. 

“Shit.” He panted against your lips. He moved his hands down to your waist and pulled you down hard, groaning when he got that first taste of friction he so desperately craved.

“Slow down.” You breathed. Your body betrayed your words, your hips rolling down gentle and slow, just enough to feel the outline of his aching cock through your clothing. 

“Why?” He muttered before pressing another kiss against your lips. “Wha's stoppin’ ya? I got condoms. Glenn's got the pill. S'fine.” 

You pulled up and away from his lips. He looked so pretty beneath you all desperate like that. It still wasn't what you wanted. 

“I don't know, Daryl-” Your voice choked into a whine when he moved under you, the friction momentarily rendering you speechless. 

“Can't ya feel what yer doin’ to me? Huh?” He snapped his hips again, forcing out another whine. “S’all for you. C'mon now.”

“Not here Daryl.” You tried to keep your voice level and firm. “Not in some tent where we have to be quick and quiet.” 

“Le’s go somewhere then. Anywhere ya want, don't care. Tell me. I'll take ya.” 

Truthfully, that almost made you give in. But it still wasn't the Daryl you wanted to experience. He was desperate, but not desperate enough. 

“Not tonight, Daryl. It's too late and Shane's on watch. He'll have my ass if he catches us sneaking out.” 

Daryl growled in frustration, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “Won't get caught.”

“Yeah, sure. Let's just wait another night.” You pressed a kiss against his cheek, innocent enough, contrasting painfully with the way you ground down against him one last time before sliding off.

Part of you started doubting your plan. Daryl was too reluctant, too full of self doubt, too terrified at the aspect of losing whatever fun thing you had going on by pushing your limits. Even though you had no problem pushing his. 

His patience amazed you. Any other man would've thrown you to the side after the first few times, or ignored your “wishes” and dove right in. He didn't know that's what you wanted. You couldn't blame him. 

How could you tell someone like Daryl “I want you to fuck me with enough desire and aggression to give a nun a heart attack”? He'd been too gentle during foreplay, too submissive, you were beginning to think he was a virgin. 

Maggie gave you a dress. You didn't know who it once belonged to, her or her sister, but it was one of the cutest things you'd ever laid eyes on. A pretty moss green that went right below your knees, laces up your stomach the same color as the dress, and thankfully, no sleeves. 

The domestic look had Daryl in shambles. You looked like a farm wife from a damn magazine, it took everything he had in him not to fuck you behind the barn like he wanted. 

He took you out that day. On a ‘food supply run’, as he called it. You weren't anyone's first pick for runs, which you understood, you were easily distracted. It was your biggest fault.

So when he asked you specifically, and you alone, you were barely able to contain your excitement. 

The first place you stopped by was an old farmers corner store to pick up enough food so you didn't come back empty handed. A few canned goods, stale snacks and three cans of soda. 

He left that in the back of the truck when the two of you stopped by a house. A very nice house, to your surprise. 

“Can't believe this place hasn't been trashed.” You commented while rummaging through the kitchen. “No more food, but there's some lighter fluid.”

“Hm.” Daryl grunted. After securing the front door he found you still in the kitchen, chewing on a mouthful of gum. 

You'd shoved about three long sticks in your mouth. “Want some?”

He eyed the gum wrapped in silver paper before taking it from your outstretched hand with a gruff thanks. 

It was hard to focus on, his heart felt like it was in his throat, it was hard to swallow, and his jaw ached from his aggressive chewing. He'd done everything you wanted, got birth control; condoms and plan B. He found this nice house that same morning, almost immediately after seeing you walk outside in that dress. He even cleaned up the master bedroom for you, dusting off the sheets and beating the pillows, opening the windows to air out the room. 

There was no way you could wave him off now.

Oh, but you found a way. It was a talent that needed to be fucking studied. 

You were digging through the dresser in the upstairs bedroom when he approached you. You ignored the sound of the door shutting and locking behind him, pretending to be very interested in the contents of the bottom drawer. 

His hands found your sides. Your skin tingled as he pulled you to your feet and pressed you against the dresser with his palm on your lower back.

He went to kissing the back of your neck. His lips were light and soft, contrasting the anxiety bubbling in his gut. 

“Hmm.” You hummed. He brushed your hair over your right shoulder and went back to kissing your neck, peppering them all the way to the point of your left shoulder. 

“Missed ya'.” He muttered, pushing his hips forward to drive home his point. 

You tried not to laugh with pity at the feeling. He was already hard? Poor thing. 

“We're supposed to be looking for food.” You chided playfully. You shifted your ass and earned a low grunt of appreciation for the friction. 

“Then why’re ya in the bedroom?” He challenged. When you didn't respond he smirked against the skin on your neck. 

His hands didn't wait for permission. He bent his knees so he could grab the bottom of your dress, gathering it in his fists and pulling it up and over your ass. He sighed at the sight, you were wearing the type of panties he'd only ever seen on a clothing rack or behind a screen. Black soft fabric, tight and with lace around the hem, hugging your curves just right. 

“Daryl, come on.” You chuckled, but made no attempt to move. “They're gonna wonder where we went.”

He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “Don't give a shit. They'll survive.” 

“And what is it you wanna do so bad that's more important than feeding our people, huh?” You mused, placing your palms on the dresser he was pushing you harder up against. 

“Ain't my people.” He quipped and ground into you, dying to make you feel how desperate he was for you. 

You choked back a moan. “You didn't answer my question.” 

“Want ya. Right here.”

“Want me to what?” 

Daryl sighed and released his hold on your dress to grip your waist. “Wanna fuck ya nice an’ good. Make y’feel what y’been missin’.”

You groaned. Your grip on the dresser turned white-knuckled as he pushed against you again. 

“Yeah?” Your breath trembled past your open lips. “What else?”

Daryl pressed himself closer, until his mouth was right at your ear. “Wanna feel what ya’ been keepin’ from me. Taste ya'. Shove my dick in that pretty lil’ mouth n’make ya sorry.” 

His words had an obvious effect on you. Your knees trembled and your breathing was louder, more shallow. 

But he still hadn't cracked. 

The curiosity was eating you alive. You couldn't give in now, not when he was so fucking close. You turned to face him and gave a ghost of a smile, trying your best to look sympathetic.

“Maybe some other time.” 

His eyes widened and his eyebrows scrunched tightly together. His nostrils flared as his pupils darted over your face, looking frantically for the slightest sign telling him it was a joke. He looked hurt, confused, like you just slapped him in the face and called him a slur.

There it is. 

“You-” he choked out, “Y’aint serious?” 

You forced a nod. 

“Why?” The way he raised his voice sent a bolt of pleasure through your core, and you had to fight back a whimper. “Got everythin’ ya needed. Went through the trouble’a findin’ this place, ain't gotta be quiet, ain't gotta worry ‘bout walkers or someone hearin’, the hell else you want from me woman?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from whimpering. You bit your bottom lip and tried to steady your breathing, but when you stole a glance at his face and saw the expression held there your lungs shifted into overdrive. 

He looked so fed up. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” You whispered. 

Daryl sneered in contempt. “The hell can I do ‘bout it? Not gonna beg.”

You swallowed hard. You slowly shook your head, your chest rising and falling dramatically, your body still trapped between his arms, his hands on the dresser behind you. 

“Don't want you to beg.” 

You pressed a hand between his legs and he let out a strangled groan, his elbows swaying as they threatened to give out. You flexed your fingers to massage his length, and pulled away. 

His eyes shot open and just as quick his hand wrapped around your wrist, yanking you back to his bulge and nearly breaking your fingers in the process of shoving them down the waistband of his jeans. 

After unbuckling his belt he was able to cram your hand down deeper, forcing you to feel him. 

You gasped when your fingertips made contact. You didn't know a dick could get that hard. It felt just as firm as any other extremity. 

“Daryl.” You let out a long sigh as you gave a half assed attempt to pull your hand out. His grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Hmm?” The teasing tone of his hum made your clit throb. 

“We can't-” You didn't get to finish your sentence before he scoffed and picked you up. Like actually picked you up in his arms, bridal style. He threw you on the plush bed where you bounced a few times, and dove into you.

“S’enough.” He muttered. He pulled your dress up over your waist and looped his fingers through the sides of your panties. You thought he'd hesitate, take a look at the expression on your face and back off, but he didn't. He tugged them down your legs and tossed them off the bed in a random location. 

“Ain't some pussy ya’ got on a leash.” His fingers snaked between your legs, beelining for your cunt. He groaned in surprise, his eyes rolling back at the feeling. You were beyond wet at this point, his aggression had your folds like a slip n slide with lube instead of water. 

You bit back a moan. His fingers spread your folds, smearing your wetness around, his thumb pressing down against your clit. 

“Fuck!” You gasped. Your hips instinctively shifted to the side from the overwhelming sensation, but a firm grip on your waist quickly snatched you back. 

“Think y'can do whatever the hell ya’ want, and I'll jus’ sit back an’ let ya’?” He didn't give you time to answer. He pushed a finger inside you, and both of you hissed at the feeling. “Ffuck. Shit ain't like that no more, princess.” 

Any other time you would've snapped at the insult, but his finger digging around inside you had your mind blank. 

“Wha’s wrong? Huh?” He twisted his finger and you cried out. His voice was sickly sweet, something that should've pissed you off but only fueled your arousal. “Got nothin' to say?” His finger curled, a movement that held no thought behind it, though the way you gasped and arched your back had him repeating the action. 

Then he started mocking you. “Oh no, not now, it's not right, I'm not ready!” He scoffed in disgust. “Like ya’ a lot better when ya’aint speakin’.” 

Oh, god. You should be fuming. You should be spitting venom right back at him, but this is everything you'd wanted from him. It was all going according to plan. 

Maybe he knew that, or maybe he didn't. Either way he was behaving just as you'd imagined countless times, rough, mean, cruel and demanding. 

“C'mon, try a little bit.” He growled after leaning down to bite at your open neck. “Go on. Tell me it ain't the time. Tell me.”

You were nothing but a puddle under him. Your hands became too restless and reached up to grab at him, balling your fists in the back of his shirt.

Never in your life had a man treated you like this. No matter how bad you teased and gave subliminal signals. They would either indulge in your teasing, respect your wishes and back off when told to, or kiss and plead until you relented. 

Finally someone was fucking you like you had always wanted. Or, they were about to. 

The knuckle of his thumb had been digging into your clit for a good minute now, and despite how uncomfortable it could feel at times, you came quickly. 

You sucked in a sharp gasp and locked your legs around his waist, trying to pull his finger in deeper, or make his knuckle grind harder. 

Daryl groaned into your neck as you came around his finger. His hips jerked forward and bumped against his hand between your thighs, knocking his digit in deeper. You yelped, not expecting such a sharp sensation during your warm and soft climax. 

He withdrew his finger and you whined. 

“Sh-sh-sh.” You didn't think a hush could sound so condescending. “Got somethin' better. Gonna make you regret not takin’ it sooner.”

You said it before you could stop yourself. “You don't have it in you.” 

His eyes flicked up to your face as he pulled his zipper down, a look on his face that sent chills across your bare legs.

There was slight amusement, slight relief, as if someone finally gave him permission to show off and prove himself. Lips parted into a breathy smirk, tongue peeking between his teeth, and one eyebrow raised. 

Your eyes dropped to his pants when he pulled his cock free. It looked just as you imagined when you'd touched it only minutes ago, standing at full attention against his lower stomach.

You let out a sigh when you saw it reached his navel. 

Daryl leaned down until he was level with your pussy. You heard it before you felt it, the sound of him spitting, and then warm drool dropping right on your sensitive clit.

You squealed in protest, trying to raise yourself on your elbows, but he stopped you with a hand on your chest. With his free hand he smeared his spit over your already soaking folds, even going as far as to push some inside you with his finger. 

“Ew!” You gasped. 

You felt a tingle. Subtle at first, you just assumed it was the salinity of his saliva, and then more prominent. You were close to panicking until you saw the wad of white gum shoot out of his mouth, landing with a smack against the hardwood floor. 

At least you knew the source of the tingling. You swallowed your own gum, the same way you'd completely forgotten about.

The skin around your cunt buzzed when he slapped the tip of his dick on your clit, and you squirmed beneath him. He steadied you with the same hand on your chest. 

“Wait.” You inhaled deeply. He didn't wait though, he just pushed into your clenched hole, ignoring your whines.

“Ssss-shut up.” His voice trembled. He used his free hand to wrap around the base of his dick, holding it straight as he slowly pushed in further. 

“Y-you said you had condoms.” 

Daryl let out a loud groan as he sank into you. His right hand on your chest increased in pressure as more and more of his upper body weight bore down on it, forcing the air from your lungs. 

He was so thick, and it had been years for you. The burn was incredible, in such a pleasurable way that you should've felt ashamed to enjoy. You tried to moan, but nothing came out aside from a strained breath. 

“Ain't nothin' gonna make me feel rubber instead’a this.” He grunted. He rolled his hips forward and finally pulled his hand off your chest to roll the dress up and over your body. 

“F-Fuck.” His whimper was strangled in his throat. Being completely naked under someone who was fully dressed had you clenching around him, earning another whimper from said man. 

“Should feel ‘shamed, keepin' all this from me.” 

You didn't. Not one bit. 

“But I know ya'aint.” 

You furrowed your brows, momentarily stunned by his apparent mind reading abilities. He jerked his hips forward and your face fell slack, your jaw dropping and your eyelids falling shut. 

His thrusts were harsh, but far too slow for you to get anywhere. You grabbed his shirt and used it to pull him down, desperate for more stimulation. 

Daryl happily obliged. His breath was hot on your ear before he took the lobe between his lips, sucking and licking the flesh. You gasped as he bit down on it, and you could sense the smirk on his lips. 

“Daryl?” You breathed, the name breaking on your tongue with another thrust. 

“Jesus.” He groaned, thoroughly annoyed. He released your ear and pulled back to look at you, frustration evident on his face. “What?”

“Thought I was gonna regret it.”

Your words had his upper lip twitching and his eyes widening ever so slightly. 

“Yeah?” He huffed. “S'gonna be like that?”

He rose from your chest, shifting until he was sitting on his boots. His hands grabbed onto your hips and yanked you down on his dick, forcing a cry from your dry throat. It took him a few seconds to position himself, leaning back just a bit, his grip on your hips tight, and then he started fucking you in a ruthless pace. 

It wasn't what you were expecting. Your mouth dropped into a long gape and your eyes shot open as he pounded his pelvis against yours, driving his dick so deep it reached places your fingers never had. 

Each thrust had a gasp burning in your lungs, and those gasps quickly grew to embarrassing moans. Now that you were ashamed of. If you had the ability to stop it you could, but the way he was thrusting into you rendered you utterly unable to control yourself and the sounds you made. 

“Get up.” 

You weren't sure why he even spoke, because he was moving your body by himself before you could process his command. He pulled you to the side of the bed and turned you over on your stomach, bending you over and shoving his dick back inside you so fast you shrieked. 

Your feet flew up behind you, smacking against the back of his thighs. If you could've seen it you would've laughed. 

The new angle was paralyzing. His dick was no longer tilted against the spot under your stomach, the spot that had you a drooling mess seconds ago. Now it smashed against a deeper part of you, a part that had you groaning with each frustration fueled thrust. 

“Fuck.” Daryl groaned, his pace slowing to give momentary reprieve. He wasn't as young as you, and even though he was always out there doing a hundred times more labor intensive activity, he needed a second to catch his breath. 

There was still an itch yet to be scratched. While he regained his bearings you fought to think of a way to say it without actually saying ‘i want you to hurt me and fuck me till I cry’. You'd already humiliated yourself enough. 

When he began picking up the pace again, you reached for the hand beside your head and bit down on his knuckles. Not gently, either. You bit down so hard he could've ripped a tooth out with the way he yanked his hand away.

“The fuck?” His voice was barely below a shout. “Ya’ crazy bitch!” 

There was no retaliation besides a particularly forceful thrust, to your irritation. 

“You baby.” You managed to grunt out. “Barely bit you.” 

“Barley bi-” he scoffed, looking down at the hand he now had splayed across your lower back. There were deep pink imprints from your teeth over his index finger knuckle, and the skin around it turned a bright red. 

You felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from its grip on the bed sheets. Your heart hammered quicker than his thrusts when his breath tickled your skin, and then he bit you. In the same spot you bit him.

It wasn't nearly as hard as you bit him, but you still whimpered at the ache. 

“Point stands.” 

Daryl couldn't believe what he was hearing. His jaw set and he dropped your wrist. 

The smug smirk you'd been keeping to yourself fell when your hair was suddenly twisted in the fist of his right hand. With just that leverage alone he pulled your upper body up, and his left arm snaked around your torso to keep you flush against his chest. 

He yanked your head to the side. You gasped. 

“This what ya’ wanted, huh sweetheart?” He breathed against your ear and drew back until his dick nearly slipped out before slamming back in.  

“Mmm-oh god yes.” You blurted out between moans. 

“Jus' had to ask.” He managed a chuckle. 

“More.” 

He furrowed his brows, but kept up the slow and deep pace. He couldn't imagine what else he could give you. He was fucking you hard enough to bruise, he was pulling your hair, what, did you want him to start beating you? 

He dipped his head down to bite your shoulder, holding back just enough so that he wouldn't give you an actual wound. 

You have to consider that biting someone with enough force to actually break the skin takes a lot. Skin isn't like the flesh of a fruit. It's tough, and would require chewing to break through. So for him to stop right before that point meant he was biting you so hard you got blood blisters, and the pain was all you could focus on. 

Your wail of genuine pain had him pulling back like he'd been shocked. His thrusts slowed, and through ragged breaths he spoke, “Shit, m'sorry. M'so sorry.” 

“No.” You gasped. Your shoulder felt like it was on fire, and your walls cleaned around him in response. “So good. Feels so good.”

Daryl let out a huff in relief. “Ya’ weird as shit, yanno that?” 

“Mhmm.” You groaned, pressing your ass back tightly against him. “More.” 

He took a deep breath to steady himself and pushed you back down on your stomach. He had to work himself up to it, the idea intimidating. Once his thrusts were back to their former sharp pace he raised a hand in the air. 

You tilted your head to the side so your cheek was pressed against the blanket. When you saw his right hand held up, your heart leapt. You never nodded so quickly. 

Daryl ground his teeth together, glancing down at your ass, your face, and back to your ass again before smacking his hand against it. 

It was barely a love tap. 

You groaned, wiggling your hips and earning a moan from him in response to the feeling on his dick. 

He took the hint and gave another smack, harder, but still not giving that burn or satisfying ‘smack’ sound you wanted.

“Daryl, please.” You whimpered. “Hurt me. I'm not made of glass.” 

You barely got the last word out before he slapped you. Open handed, fingers spread and slightly curved to mold perfectly against your asscheek. You yelped and instinctively tried scooting up the bed, held back by his left hand on your hip. 

It clicked in his head then. No wonder people liked spanking so much. His palm tingled and he could see a faint handprint start to color your skin. And the way you reacted, that sound you made, your body trying to get away from him, it made his dick twitch. 

“Fuck!” You cried out after another hard slap. The pain fully distracted you from the ache in your shoulder, white hot pain spreading across your ass and up your spine. 

“Such a baby.” He meant it to sound patronizing, but he was still too amazed by the new turn on he'd discovered, and the words came out breathless. 

Your whimper bled into another cry as he spanked you again. 

And again. 

Again, again, until you were on the verge of tears, sobs bubbling from your wet lips as you tried to squirm away from him. 

As if you actually wanted to. Which you clearly didn't. You were practically gushing around his dick. 

He rubbed his palm over the deep red skin, barely soothing the blinding burn he'd left behind. “Goddamn.” 

“M'gonna cum.” You were literally drooling. 

He snapped his attention away from your ass and back to you. “Whaddya want, huh?” He quickened his pace once again, jolting forward to press his body against your back. You whimpered at the way he moved, his dick pushing deeper inside you. 

“More, please,” you stuttered, trying desperately to work your hand under your body, which proved to be difficult due to his weight on top of you. 

Daryl noticed and lifted your hips with his hands. He shoved your eager arm out of the way and rubbed your clit with his own fingers, fast and deep in a way he assumed you'd like. 

You moaned under him, arching your back, feeling him slip in further. It was as if he grew another inch every five minutes. Or you grew another inch deeper, and he was staying the same. Either way he was deeper, and it felt immaculate. 

The rise to your climax was slow, but powerful. You were fully prepared to gently tip over the edge and slide down in bliss. 

That was before he slapped your pussy. Then you fell down gasping. 

Daryl held onto your body like you were a wild mustang, trashing and twisting under him in ecstasy. He withdrew his hand and grabbed your hips again, resuming his brutal pace, clamping his teeth down on the back of your neck to keep your bodies anchored together. 

It took a while for you to come down from your high. When you did it was violent, the pure bliss smashed away by burning overstimulation. 

“Fu-uck!” You heaved in deep breaths. “Daryl s’too much, can't, wait!”

“Ever since that night ya’ came in my tent, blue ballin’ me like that,” he growled against your neck, “-been dreamin’ ‘bout havin ya’ like this. Fallin’ apart. Face full’a tears. Ain't stoppin now.” 

He wasn't bluffing. He didn't stop. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, ramming into your abused cunt, only slowing to shift in positions so you were on your back. 

The air felt amazing against your chest. Daryl ripped that feeling away with gnashing teeth, biting your hard nipples and alternating between sucking and pinching.

The house had to be surrounded by walkers by now. There was no way it wasn't, you were crying and moaning like you were getting paid for it. 

“Oh, god.” You wailed as another orgasm built up quicker than ever inside you. “Oh please, fuck, god!”

A jolt of pleasure shot through your core when Daryl's hands wrapped around your throat. 

Now, Daryl was no stranger to strangling someone. He'd choked plenty of people out before.

In fights.

He was unaware there was a different type of choking for pleasure. Instead of squeezing the sides of your throat with his thumb and fingers, he wrapped both hands around your neck and fucking strangled you. 

You squeezed your eyes shut so tight they ached as you came. Your orgasm had started off blinding, overwhelming every inch of your body, but Daryl's crushing grip soon muted the tail end of your climax and filled your ears with a deafening ringing. 

Daryl pulled his teeth off your nipple and panted against your ear. “Lemme cum inside ya’, sweetheart.”

You could barely process what he'd said. You forced your eyes open against the pressure induced burn, trying to find his face, only to see the side of his head. 

“Can't pull out.” He growled and released some of the pressure around your throat. Oxygen and blood flooded your head, leaving you dizzy and with black around the edges of your vision. 

“Can't, m'sorry. Oh, huh-  fuck!” His voice was strained as every muscle in his body tensed up. His hips surged forward, stuffing his dick balls deep to coat the end of your walls in his cum. “Mmm-fuck s’good. So good. Ohhh, Hah-” 

He choked on his moan. He moved his head, replacing his hands around your neck with his mouth, kissing and biting at the tender skin as he spurted ropes of hot cum inside you. 

Your body broiled under his crushing form. Your thighs relaxed from their clamped position, falling off his waist and dropping to the bed beneath you. Your lungs ached and your throat was raw, but your pussy buzzed so intently it felt like you had a vibrator pressed against it. 

“Oh, god.” The tone was full of dread and you forced yourself to focus on Daryl. 

“What?” You croaked. There was a stabbing pain in your neck from Daryl choking you out like you were a man his size. 

“Yer all fucked up.” He whined. He traced his fingers across your throat. “S’bad. Oh fuck.”

“Calm down.” You sat upright after he pulled back enough for you to do so, his dick dragging out against your trembling walls in the process and making you hiss.

“It's okay. I'll just tell em a walker got the jump on me. We've all seen them grab throats. It's fine.” You pressed a kiss to his worried lips. 

“Gonna tell em a walker did that too?” He pointed an exhausted finger at the bite mark on your shoulder, which was now in the early stages of a deep bruise, not to mention the blood blister in the shape of his teeth.

You laughed softly. “Fuck no. I'll just skip the tank tops for a week or two.”

That seemed to settle him enough and he nodded, moving to lay on his back. 

“That was amazing.” You broke the long silence. “Seriously. You're the first man to ever… you know.”

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at you. “Huh? Y’never…?”

“No! I mean…” you sighed. “Never had a man make me come.”

Now he was at full attention, sitting upright and leaning back on his palms. “Nah, no shit.”

“I'm serious.”

He let out a light scoff, shaking his head in disbelief. “Jesus.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he watched you climb off the bed to grab your thrown panties. “Me too.”

You glanced over your shoulder as you stepped into them. “Really? You never…?”

He nodded, going back to biting his cheek. 

“How'd you last so fucking long?”

A cocky grin crept across his lips at the compliment behind your words. He was worried he didn't last long enough. And you just asked him how he held on so long.

“Jerked off like, ten fuckin’ times today.” 

That meant he knew he was going to fuck you today. Heat spread through your core again, despite how worn out you were. You smiled and climbed back on the bed to smother him with kisses. 

“You're so fucking hot.” You mumbled against his lips, which were moving weakly against your own. 

“Says the bitch that wouldn't fuck me.” He chuckled. 

“Just wanted you to make the decision for me. It's a lot hotter that way.” You hummed, pulling your swollen lips away from his. “It worked.” 

“Psh.” He rolled his eyes and began stuffing his soft cock back in his jeans. “Put yer clothes on. Place is probably crawlin' with walkers. Le’s get the hell outta dodge before anymore show up.”

Now that Daryl was in on your little game, you couldn't wait to play again. 

@ophelialaufey @carlgrimesgfofficial @theskinniestjackson-denny @dilfish-daydreams @my1fx @jinx-nanami

[crushribbons]

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, fluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down. 

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.” 

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times. 

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk. 

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped. 

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like. 

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again. 

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed. 

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through. 

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!” 

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

masterlist

[justwonder113]

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🎧 Shutting you up mid argument with a kiss - Maknae line edition 🎧

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Hyung Line

📖 Summary:  Basically what the title says 🤭

⚠️ Warnings:  Cursing as always; Arguments; kissing; fluff; angst but nothing too extreme; If I missed anything please tell me; NOT PROOFREAD

🖋️ Author’s Note:  Saw a gif of a man shutting a girl up with a kiss and got inspired so hopefully you'll like it. Will do a reverse version too so stay tuned~

📝 Word Count:   3k

📜 Masterlist: | ☕ Ko-fi:

💬Reblogs and comments are truly appreciated—they help more STAYs find my work, and your feedback means a lot to me. ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

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Han

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To say that you were pissed off would be severe misunderstanding. Your whole day was just a pure nightmare. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong and now, to put it simply, you were basically a walking ticking bomb. The slightest disturbance would be enough to tip you over the edge and make you snap. 

Honestly all you really wanted was to go home and just sleep. Preferably with Jisung cuddling you, but you weren’t picky.  

As long as you got some sleep. 

Your apartment was dimly lit when you entered so that’s why you didn’t notice Jisung’s  bag he most likely he just threw on the ground when he got back home. Thank God you managed to catch yourself mid fall, or else would have broken at least a nose. And you would have to kill Jisung. 

Hoesly you wanted to yell at him. You had warned him at least million times to not leave his junk out in the middle of room like that. But at the same time, you were so tired you decided against it. 

“Hey baby.” You heard Jisung’s raspy voice before you felt his arms around you, his scent immediately surrounding you, almost fully melting away the day’s stress. 

The keyword being almost. 

Because the minute you were done with your stuff you immediately went to your bedroom. 

And the sight made your blood boil. 

“Han Jisung get your ass over here!” 

You head the screech of his computer chair. A heavy thud. And then quick footsteps of Han rushing full speed towards the room. 

“What is it are you okay?” He was so out of breath and visibly panicking and normally you would have found it endearing but not today. Not now. 

You pointed at the bed which was covered with unfolded laundry. You asked Han million times to take care of it. You were tired of watching it migrate from bed to the chair in your room. But here you were. You weren't’ perfect example of cleanliness and you knew Han was a messy person, but it was like he never cleaned after himself. You knew he had hectic schedules, but you weren’t free as a bird either. Also, it was tiring for you to be one always cleaning around the house. So, him leaving the laundry untouched yet again really tipped you over. 

“I’m sorry baby, I completely forgot about it....” Han started frantically explaining himself, clearly nervous and guilty but you didn’t let him finish. 

“No, I asked you so many times to take care of it! It’s your laundry too! You always promise to help with chores, but I am always stuck doing them all alone!” You took a deep breath, noticing yourself how you were slowly picking up a pace as you argued. You hated whenever you lashed out like this, especially at Han, but damn it you were tired! 

“I am not your personal made Jisung! I don’t understand why you treat me as such! Or do you think magical faeries keep the house clean or some bullshit like that. All I wanted was to go to sleep and finally relax but now I have to stress about how the house is a literal mess. It just simply shows how little you respect me!” 

“Baby...” He started again but you were not done. You noticed that he was starting to get anxious, that he was watching you with sad puppy eyes while fidgeting with the hems of his hoodie, lifting his weight from one leg to the other. You felt bad but you had to speak up. 

“Don’t baby me Jisung. I am tired too. How many times are you going to conveniently forget to do something and watch me do it for you?” 

“I’m sorry baby. I really am.” You heard Jisung mutter out. 

“You can’t just get away with this by saying sorry. You always do this! Apologize and then do the same shit a...” You couldn’t even finish your sentence. 

Because he was kissing you. 

His hands cupping your jaw, so gently, so desperately. 

Like you were most precious and fragile porcelain doll. 

You have kissed millions of times. You got through various of different things together. But never like this had he kissed you. 

You felt your anger slowly wash away as you slowly sank into the kiss. 

“What’s with the kiss?” You finally asked, breathless, once he leaned back, your heart beating like crazy. Your whole body on fire.  

Jisung smiled, his hair disheveled from your hands, his lips red and swollen from kissing you. His face clearly flushed, though you doubted you looked any better. but he still looked awkward. He leaned in and gave you another short peck. “I promise I will be better.” You both heard and felt him mutter this against your lips. His voice low, sincere.  “I will help around more.” Another kiss and you felt like floating. “I’m really sorry I made you feel like I didn’t appreciate you.” 

“You better make up for it then.” 

“Right this second your highness.” Smiling just like his usual sunshine self he leaned in and gave you another loving peck before heading to start cleaning up, starting with the laundry on your bed. 

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Felix

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Some people say family is everything. And honestly? They’re right. They’re the people who know you best, who support you through life’s toughest moments, who stand by you no matter what. 

They’re also the people most likely to drive you absolutely insane. And make you want to pluck out your hair strand by strand. 

Like, it’s one thing when a stranger is being mildly irritating—someone cutting in line, talking too loudly on the phone, or walking too slowly when you’re in a hurry. That’s annoying, sure, but you can shake it off. It’s temporary. 

But family? Oh no. They know exactly where your buttons are, and they press them with the precision of a NASA engineer launching a spacecraft. And because you love them—because you can’t just walk away forever—it somehow makes their antics ten times more infuriating. 

It’s the paradox of unconditional love: the people closest to you are also the ones who can send you into a spiral over something as simple as the way they chew their food. 

Let’s just say tonight’s dinner was a total battlefield. 

And you didn’t know if you were winning losing. 

Do you know how some people have this relative everyone or almost everyone keeps comparing you to since you’re born? It’s a complete nightmare if both of you are the same age. It’s always lie do you know they did this they did that, they have the most perfectest grades, they graduated early, they are now studying medicine, law or something really respectworthy like that. Oh they work now, oh NASA just recruited them, oh they saved a president.  

And worst of all they are getting married so when are you. 

It is especially hard when your family knows you’re dating. And your boyfriend of three years (oh no right) is right next you and your family absolutely loves him! So you can imagine how the boot on your neck pressuring you to get married got heavy. 

For the whole night you had to hear basically everyone’s opinion on how you should live your own damn life. They didn’t even let you say anything! And when you finally managed to speak up and say something they ignored you and went over you like you were some dumb kid. 

And then the perfection incarnate decided to have a chat with you and Felix- meaning you had to hear a whole ass speech how perfect their life was. And god that condescending tone! Honestly you still loved your family members, but damn some of them managed to piss you off so much! Like you wouldn’t even say hi to them if you weren’t related. 

Thankfully you were headed back to your house now and since you couldn’t really say anything at dinner now you were compensating by speaking  what was on your mind. Well arguing and ranting was a better word to describe your action but a person’s gotta vent. 

“Seriously the audacity some people have. If I have to hear how someone’s life is so perfect and amazing and how you should just set it as your life goal to live by their example I will lose my mind! And what’s up with this relentless marriage talk and you should have children bullshit?! I will get married and start a family whenever I see fit!” 

You were so passionate about your whole damn rant you didn’t even realize that you got home. You really didn’t stop talking for a whole ride. Talk about yapping. 

“And what was up with them cornering you about asking for my hand? It’s so frustrating! It's our relationship, it’s not something to be discussed so publicly like it’s everyone’s business. We will go in our pace. I mean as long as I’m happy why should it matter, right Felix?” You had barely finished your sentence when he decided to wrap his hands around you and lean in to seal your lips ina loving gently kiss. 

Your breath hitched, it was like your whole mind crashed like an old computer for a second. Your whole body was on a fire in a second, your heart beating like crazy. 

Did he even realize what kind of effect he had on you? 

“You’re cute when you’re worked up like this.” Felix whispered against your ear when he leaned back for some air. The hot breath sending shiver down your spine. 

“You’re such a tease.” You grumbled, but you didn’t really mind being shut up like this.

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Seungmin

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It started with something stupid like the correct way to load a dishwasher. Silly right? But now you had a whole silent war going on with him because both of you were prideful assholes. 

You knew it was dumb, but it just pissed you off how Seungmin always thought that he was always so right. Usually you loved how fact driven and logically thinking he was, you loved his confidence, but whenever pride also got in the way and he got all smug you just wanted to smack him. It made him more cold and smug like he was better than everyone else. And sometimes you felt like you were part of “everyone”. 

You hated when you argued, so you decided to do the next best thing.  

The silent treatment. 

But how long would that last? Especially when Seungmin was determined to make you talk. But eventually his resolve started to crack. 

“For how much longer do you plan to act like this?” You heard him ask, sounding all annoyed. 

You decided to ignore him and resume what you were doing, which ironically was the thing that made you argue in the first place. You were putting dishes in the dishwasher. 

And you obviously did it your way, which made Seungmin tsk. 

“It won’t get washed that way, it’s pointless to have a dishwasher if you’re going to place dishes like that. I told you that baby.” 

And just like that, with one comment from him, you snapped. 

“Can you shut it?” Your voice was harsh. You had never spoken to him like this. 

Seungmin scoffed. “So now you wanna talk?” 

You placed the dish down. “Yes because I'm sick of it! You always have to be right and it’s so infuriating you know?” You took a deep breath, here it went. “It’s like you think you're some genius above the rest of us—so smug, so condescending—" 

You took a deep breath. “Honesly it seemed like you only care about being right all of the time. Honestly sometimes you make me feel like you don’t even care about me!”  

Seungmin scoffed- "Smug? That’s harsh. I prefer ‘confident.” He tilted his head, a smug smile appearing on his face. He continued. “And let’s be honest, would I argue this much if I didn't care about you?"  

"Oh, so now you care? That’s rich—" You started exasperated, your voice rising by the second against your judgement. 

Seungmin stepped closer, his face unreadable. “Obviously I do. That’s why we argue over stupid shit like this! If I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be here arguing with you about how to place dishes in the dishwasher! I wouldn’t care how you do it. You also wouldn’t be yelling at me if you didn’t care either." You didn’t miss how his voice dropped, in the end, his voice sounded so sincere. But... 

You blinked.  

Not going to lie you didn’t know what to say. He managed to catch you off guard. But you were not going to back down. "I—No. Don’t flip this on me, this isn’t about me, this is about—" 

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours. At first you were confused, then came anger, because he was just shutting you up, avoiding the conversation, but then you realized. The way he held you oh so gently, despite his hands slightly trembling... And for the first time in your short relationship you saw right through him. It's like you saw him for the first time. Instead of shutting you up he was almost like apologizing. It was knowing. Deliberate. The kind of kiss that said, I hear you. That said, I don’t just think I’m right—It‘s just my way of taking care of you. I just want the best for you. 

The frustration dissolves into something else entirely, because really, who gave him the right to kiss this perfectly? His hand came up—just barely brushing against your jaw, lingering like he was waiting for you to pull away, except you didn’t. 

And by the time he leaned back his face still looked unreadable but now you noticed how tenderly his eyes were gazing  at you. 

"I love you." He said it like it was the most simple thing to say and you caved. 

A genuine smile found it’s way on your face. 

“I love you.”

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IN

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It all started when your boyfriend decided he wanted attention. Which normally isn’t a a bad thing but it  can be disruptive when you’re working on a major project, when you have a tight deadline and when you really really REALLY have to focus. 

For the whole evening he didn’t really let you work in peace. He kept whining how you were giving him no attention and how it meant that you didn’t love him anymore. You had to talk to hyunjin later because he was corrupting your boyfriend. 

In the end you couldn’t really focus and you kept getting distracted over and over again. And in result today you were swarmed with complains from your boss. And let’s just sat you were pretty much pissed now. But you didn’t feel like arguing with him so you decided to let go. But you still wanted to vent about how much of an asshole your boss was. 

Jeongin was in a playfull mood today. And normally you loved his goofy side but right noe everything was irking you. You hinted at him several times that you wanted him to focus and listen to you without all the games and jokes but your every hint went over his head. 

“What a bitch!” He gasped dramatically and clutched his imaginary pearls. 

Now that you thougth about it you did overeact. 

You snapped. 

"Can you be serious for like...just five minutes, please?" Your voice was sharp. And you hated how he flinched for a second, not expecting you to snap out of you but you had to get everything out of your system 

IN quickly regained his composure and grinned. "Five minutes? That’s ambitious." 

"Jeongin." - You deadpanned. You hoped that  you using his name would make him realize that you were being serious. 

He blinked innocently still unaware. "What? I am serious. Mostly." 

And that’s was the breaking point. 

The frustration simmered over, and you started to talk. 

"You never take anything seriously! It’s always jokes, always teasing—how am I supposed to have an actual conversation with you when you act like a literal child?" 

Finally looking like he took this seriously now he raised an eyebrow. "A child? That’s dramatic." 

You couldn’t help but throw your hands up. "It’s not dramatic Jeongin. it’s the truth! You joke around so much, I don’t even know if you listen half the time—" 

The teasing glint in his eyes didn’t disappear completely, but something more focused, more intent sparked beneath it. He stepped closer, the usual playfulness slowly turning into something unreadable. 

He started to talk, his voice, sincere. Almost like a whisper. "I listen.”- He started- “I listen way more than you think." 

You decided to challenge him. "Oh, really? Then what exactly did I say just now—" 

You thought something shifter in a second and then you really felt it. 

One second he looked at you with passion, with something so raw, the next second his hand curled at the back of your neck and he kissed you like there was no tomorrow. It was raw and passionate. Your whole body was instantly on fire. You couldn’t help but cling onto him as he deepened the kiss. It was anything but childish—loving, deep, and entirely too knowing. Like he’s been waiting for this moment. To prove to you that he was very much a adult man. 

By the time he pulled away, his smirk was infuriatingly self-satisfied.  

Even more, the little tease started retelling you in every detail just what you had told him. 

"Still think I don’t listen?" Oh you would smack him one of these days. 

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✧･ﾟ: Thank you for reading! :･ﾟ✧ 

If you enjoyed this story, reblogs and comments are truly appreciated—they help more STAYs find my work, and your feedback means a lot to me. 💬🖤 

📜 @annie-boleyn @velvetmoonlght @notastraykid @pixie-felix

 If you’d like to be added, feel free to send me an ask or reply to this post 🤍 

☕ Ko-fi — support my writing 

Any support is deeply appreciated and helps me keep writing more stories like this💌

[glowettee]

✧ girlblogging saved my life | tribute to girlbloggers of tumblr

💌 a love letter to the girls who feel everything all at once

hi angel. mindy here.

i just want to talk to you for a second. not as a persona, not as a brand, not even as a blog, but as a girl who started typing into a blank text box one day and never stopped.

because the truth is, i didn’t make this blog because i was healed. i made it because i was hurting.

and somewhere between the aesthetic pinterest photos, the late-night diary entries, the posts that only got 3 notes, the 2am reblogs of girls who looked like soft versions of my pain... i found something. i found you.

✿

i didn’t know i was creating a life raft when i made this blog. but looking back, i can see it so clearly now: i was a girl who needed a safe place to feel everything. to be too much, too emotional, too ambitious, too dreamy. irl, i felt like i was being graded for everything, my appearance, my intelligence, my tone of voice, even the way i sat in a chair. everything had to be curated and clean and perfect.

but on here? on tumblr? i could fall apart in lowercase.

i could write things like “i feel like a forgotten ballerina in a dusty theater” and no one would ask me if i was okay. they’d just reblog it with “me too.” and somehow, that felt more healing than any conversation i’d ever had.

✿

girlblogging didn’t just save my life. it gave me one.

a life where i could romanticize my flashcards, where healing could look like claw clips and classical music and drinking water in a wine glass. a life where i could turn loneliness into poetry and ambition into art. a life where i wasn’t just surviving... i was curating, creating, soft-launching a girl i had always dreamed of being.

i started girlblogging when i didn’t have the words for what i was feeling. but now i know, it was grief. it was burnout. it was self-abandonment. and slowly, one pink post-it thought at a time, i started writing my way back to myself.

✿

when people ask what girlblogging even is, i just smile. because it’s not something you can explain in one sentence. it’s something you feel.

it’s the way you post blurry photos of your eyeliner because it makes you feel powerful. it’s the way you build entire personalities out of fictional girls like spencer hastings, wonyoung, cher horowitz, and elle woods. it’s the way you turn your trauma into templates and your survival into routines. it’s how we whisper “you’re not alone” to each other through digital scraps of diaries, gifs, playlists, and checklists titled ✧ how to feel like yourself again.

girlblogging is archiving your girlhood in real-time. and i think that’s the most radical thing we’ve ever done.

✿

i’ve met girls here who are quiet geniuses. girls who write like moonlight. girls who study like the world is ending. girls who’ve taught me how to rest, how to flirt with life again, how to turn breakdowns into soft resets. girls who made me feel seen in a way real life never did.

and the best part? they’re just like me. just like you. we’re all here, in this glittery corner of the internet, building worlds from our bedrooms, lighting candles for each other, sending each other healing in the form of moodboards and poetry and routines.

this is a community of unspoken survival. we never say it directly. we just post something beautiful and hope someone else recognizes the ache behind it.

and we do. every time.

✿

so this is my love letter. to you. to the girlbloggers. to the dreamers who stayed up late to make a new aesthetic header even though they had homework. to the girls who reblogged posts about self-worth while silently trying to believe them. to the ones who took notes like it was an artform. to the ones who healed in lowercase and sparkles. to the ones who are still learning how to love themselves in soft, sustainable ways.

you saved me. girlblogging saved me. you taught me how to live again.

and i just want to say... whatever you’re going through, you’re not weird for needing this space. you’re not cringey for making everything an aesthetic. you’re not “too much” for feeling everything at once.

you’re just a girl in the middle of becoming. and that’s a sacred thing.

never let the world convince you that softness isn’t powerful. it is. it always has been.

✿

so keep posting your little poems and guides. keep updating your theme at 1am. keep reblogging things that feel like you. because maybe girlblogging isn’t about being seen. maybe it’s about seeing yourself for the first time in forever.

and maybe that’s enough.

tributed to all the girlblogging community on tumblr + these amazing creators/girlbloggers:

@prettieinpink

@honeytonedhottie

@b3byd0ll

@thegirlingold

@dollywons

@agirlwithglam

@cantmakeitonmyown

@bunnysdollette

@maxiglow

@malusokay

@girljournal

@bloomzone

@4theitgirls

@milkoomi

@realprissygirl

~ mindy ♡

[1800-fight-me]

An Experiment in Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (EXPLICIT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Explicit sex, takes place in a brothel

Word count: About 2k

Synopsis: You find yourself in a brothel and have an unexpected encounter with the one eyed prince.

Author’s note: So uh... that brothel scene in the last episode really did a number on me,,, this is the filthiest thing I've ever written and I make no apologies thanks @arcielee for the inspo! and also i borrowed this beautiful gif from @aegonx i hope that's okay!!

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Here's the link to my Aemond Masterlist if you want to check out my other stories! Also my requests are open, please send me some more!!

You weren’t quite sure how you found yourself in this particular predicament. Despite your loud and frequent complaints throughout the night, you had none to voice now. 

It was a night out with your friends to celebrate the impending marriage of the loudest of your friend group to the baker’s boy. It was a good match, you were happy for her, she liked him well enough and he would be able to provide for her, which was as much as anyone could ask as smallfolk in King’s Landing. 

What you did object to however, was when the group decided that leaving the tavern, after entirely too many rounds of surprisingly strong beer, and heading to a brothel was a good idea. 

She had expressed nerves about her wedding night, and some of the others in your party overruled your protests and decided that bringing her to a brothel so she could ‘at least see what it’s all about’ was the perfect idea. 

You needed no such education, having laid with a man once before, well the word man was a stretch, it was a couple of years ago and he was a boy not much older than you who worked in the stables of the Red Keep. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but it had been sufficient, and your interest in sex had decreased since then. 

Now, you wondered if you had been wrong to not explore other options. The dark rooms were filled with incense, curtains, and moans of ecstacy. Many fornicators weren’t even hidden by curtains, but were completely out in the open for any and all to see. 

Your friends gasped and giggled, watching and whispering as a woman on her knees choked on a man’s cock. You were surprised that she seemed to be enjoying it, and it made you wonder if it was something you would enjoy too. 

A hand slipped into yours and you let your friends tug you along, this time you bit your lip to withhold your gasp as a man licked and feasted on a woman’s cunt. This was something you knew immediately you would enjoy, as a rush of heat filled you and you felt the desire to not just observe anymore, but to participate. 

There was a bit of commotion as a group of loud men filtered into the room and in an effort to get out of their way as the silver haired leader of the group stumbled through yanking back curtains in search for someone- your hand slipped from your friend’s and you were separated from your group. 

One of the men in the group slapped your ass, which startled you so much you stumbled back and pressed yourself against a wall in order to get away from the rowdy intruders. 

Some of the crowd paused their copulation, to look at the disruption and there were whispers. 

“What did you say?” you asked the unclothed woman walking past you. 

“That’s the king,” she replied. Then she looked you up and down, an innuendo in her eyes, and held out a beckoning hand to you. It took all your self control not to slip your hand in hers and follow her anywhere. 

Instead you politely declined with a small shake of your head, and she shrugged and continued on. You stuck to your post guarding the wall, and wondered where your friends had drifted off to. 

You decided you should wander into one of the adjoining rooms to find them, when a man stomped out of the enclosed curtained area the king and his man had gone into. 

The man was completely nude, that was the first thing you noticed. It was difficult not to notice. He was difficult not to notice. He looked like a carved statue, long hard planes of muscle everywhere on his tall form. Long flowing silver hair and an eye of sapphire also caught your eye.

You heard him mutter something to the king, “One whore is as good as another.” The king laughed, but Prince Aemond seemed to shake with anger. 

His presence was intoxicating and you couldn’t look away, especially not when he noticed your attention, and looked directly at you. 

You suddenly forgot how to breathe, how to stand, how to blink as he pinned you within his intense gaze. He stopped his stride as he approached you, standing closer than would ever be considered appropriate for a stranger, and looked you up and down. 

You resisted the urge to squirm as the nude prince dragged his gaze up your body and made you feel laid bare. 

He held a hand out to you, “Come with me.” 

Your pulse jumped and your hand itched to slip into his. 

“My prince, I am not a whore. I am here with friends…” 

He pursed his lips, “Even better. And you appear to be alone. Will you come with me or not?” 

His voice was rough with an unnamed emotion and you wanted to please him, to be the reason for relief from his torment, and you threw all caution to the wind. 

You placed your hand in his, his callouses scraping against your own, and you shivered as he brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, as if you were a proper lady and not the bastard daughter of a blacksmith. As if this were a courtship, not a fuck between strangers in a brothel. 

He then slipped his hand across your back and down to your waist and led you out of the large room filled with others. You were quiet, but the same could not be said of the pounding of your heart as a prince of the realm led you to a room with a door. 

“What is your name?” he asked as he shut the door behind him, sealing the two of you alone in a small room with only a desk and chair within it. 

You answered and when he murmured your name back to you, your breath caught in your throat. 

“My Prince,” you breathed out as he took a step towards you. 

“Aemond,” he corrected. 

“Aemond, this is out of character for me, I-“

He raised his brow at you, and you acted rashly, fearing you were losing him, this opportunity, and decided not to talk anymore, and practically threw yourself at him. 

He groaned as his lips met yours, and as he stepped forward to meet you, your bodies collided and he guided you back a few steps until your back hit the wall. 

His tongue was inside your mouth and it was better than any kiss you’d ever had. He moved it with expertise that made your clit throb and you wondered if he would indeed want to use that tongue in other places. 

You realized there was nothing preventing you from touching him, not a single scrap of clothing, and so you let your hands explore. Down from his muscled chest, to his toned abs, lower… 

Aemond gasped in your mouth as your hand grazed his now hardening length. Your hand

continued its journey, cupping his balls and he ripped his lips from yours, a wild look in his eye. Before you could blink, he was ripping the clothes off you, baring you completely. 

You had half a second of feeling insecure as he took a step back and surveyed your naked form, before the prince murmured, “Perfect.” 

His lips and body crashed into you again, your back slamming into the wall, but you didn’t care, didn’t care, didn’t care as his bare skin brushed against yours, as all your curves pressed into his firm muscle, as his cock pressed against you, begging for attention. 

And as you reached a hand between your bodies to once again touch him, his lips pulled from

yours and he looked you in the eyes as his hand followed the same journey as your own. 

He ran a hand from the side of your throat, down your breast, taking a moment to gently squeeze and fondle which had you gasping. His thumb circled your nipple as your hand gripped his hard

cock. 

You both moaned in tandem at the action, and then his hand drifted lower, lower, and lower still, until his large hand cupped your mound and found you soaked beyond belief. 

He groaned as those nimble fingers spread your lips and explored your soaked cunt, quickly finding your clit, just as you rubbed your thumb across the sensitive underside of cock. 

“Fuck,” you panted as you both pleasured one another with your hands. You gripped and pumped his cock as you stared into his lust blown gaze. 

This, you’d never felt so wanted, so attractive, so powerful as when you held a prince

of the realm’s pleasure in your hand. 

His fingers drifted, and with a smirk, he plunged two inside you. You gasped, pleasure unlike

any other as your cunt squeezed him. 

And you could see that release was barreling towards you both, you knew he could tell the same as he batted your hand from him, yanked his hand out of you, and pressed you back against the wall. 

His lips were on you again, consuming you, as he lifted you up, using the leverage of the wall and you followed his lead as you wrapped your legs around his trim waist. 

His tongue tangled with your own as he plunged his cock inside you. 

His impressive length hit you deeper than you’d ever experienced before and you let out a whine. He chuckled, a cocky sound, and gripped the flesh of your hips tightly as he began thrusting in and out. 

You let your head fall back against the wall as you submitted to the waves of pleasure he brought you. 

His lips pressed against your throat, his

tongue and teeth, taking turns to make you whine as he continued to thrust inside you, his tempo hard and punishing and rough and everything you needed. You tried to grind down on him, to meet his thrusts, but he growled and gripped you tighter, pressed you harder against the wall, and you submitted control to him completely and let him use you. 

One hand tangled in his hair, the other gripped any muscle you could find, as his lips traveled down your throat to your breasts. 

As he licked and sucked your nipple, his cock hit the deepest part of you, and his groin ground against your clit, you shattered completely. 

You practically screamed his name as you came harder than you’d ever experienced before. 

This only encouraged him, and his grip on you tightened, you knew you would have bruises tomorrow, and you clenched down his cock as his thrusts increased in pace and intensity. The unholy squelching sound as he pounded inside you was music to your ears, you had no room to be bashful, not as you felt full, deliciously so. 

The frames on the wall shook as he pounded into you, and just as he was about to reach ecstasy, he pulled out of you and put you back on your own two feet. 

You watched as the prince touched himself, that large hand gripping his even larger cock, and your cunt throbbed at the sight. He moaned as his come splattered all across your stomach and breasts. 

You both watched each other, panting, coming down from unbelievable heights. You looked at his beautiful form and thought he was carved by the gods. 

He lifted your head with a finger under your chin, and as you met his gaze once more, and he pressed a swift kiss to your lips. 

“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” he murmured. Then he dropped his hand from your face, turned and left the room. 

You stood there, alone, completely naked, and covered in a royal come and wondered how you found yourself in this situation, but also hoped it could someday be repeated.

[atrwriting]

kisses and other sweet things — billy the kid x cowgirl!reader

ok… i couldn’t help myself lol

also side note i don’t remember what scene this gif was from but i feel like his turned on look and look of disgust/confusion is the same — like if i hadn’t watched the show i’d be like “did he just see a pretty girl walk in?? or did someone just threaten him?? both??? hopefully both???”

but like also if he looked at me like that…,,,… melting. on the spot.

as always, warnings: smuuuuut, dom!billy, brat!reader, i don’t know if you can call it non-con but just to be safe im going to put that, p in v sex, oral, spitting in mouth (yeah i went there sue me), tears, biting, cums inside of reader (they didn’t have condoms in his time but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use them!!!!)

also don’t sue me i don’t know if they had running water (sinks, baths, etc) but also the real billy the kid didn’t look this fine so we’re making it up as we go and going with the flow

ENOUGH TALK — here’s kisses and other sweet things…

you had been working with a crew for some time now, and as you all struggled to keep a cash flow — you had to turn to other things.

like joining forces with another crew.

the idea of joining a crew wasn’t what unsettled you — what unsettled you was being the only woman with a gun with even more men.

it’s just for one job, y’all, they had said. just this one.

one job turned into two. then that turned into three. four, five, six — and suddenly you knew everyone’s back story, drink of choice, and their type when it came to women of the night.

your first crew never asked how you felt, but you also never told them. they were all — including you — in it for the money. at the end of the day, it was all about what you had in your pockets. there was no time for quelling the simple worries, like they’d call the ones in your head.

at the end of the day — you had been doing this a long time. you had taken care of yourself up until this point, and you would continue to do so. didn’t matter who you were working with — you’d get it done.

after a day of success, everyone wanted to blow off steam. you all had found a boarding house for the night where the alcohol ran deep and there was two or three pretty women for each cattle rustler in your large group. you stayed behind a bit to drink with them, but once they started eyeing the women — you knew it was time to go.

sleeping with any of the men you worked with was also a bad idea. you couldn’t afford them seeing you as anything less than someone quick with a draw — and you worried a night of meaningless sex would ruin that.

you would never take the chance.

“have your fun, boys,” you chuckled. “you deserve it.”

“won’t stay a little longer, sweetheart?” your leader asked as a girl licked at his neck.

“another time — bath’s calling my name.”

a few pleasantries were thrown over shoulders, and you returned them. you made your quick escape up the stairway and into the shared washroom between three or four bedrooms. you knew your party had rented those rooms for the evening, so you were very excited to be able to have the bath to yourself for a little bit longer than usual.

you filled the tub with scalding hot water. the steam from the water and the whisky in your stomach made you hazy, but you welcomed it. who knew when you’d have until you had this sort of luxury or privacy again — you weren’t going to waste the chance.

the bath was quite large — fit for two or three people. you stayed on one edge as you washed your dirty skin. you were about to relax against the back when the doorknob began to turn.

you immediately snatched your gun and pointed it at the door.

“shit — sorry.”

it was the bonney kid.

he was holding a towel in his hand and was naked from the waist up. a scared look on his face was present as he tried to avert his eyes.

you put down the gun and raised an eyebrow, waiting for his next move.

“just came to wash up,” he spoke.

you knew he couldn’t see anything from where he stood, and you knew he wouldn’t be able to see below the water’s surface with the bubbles. you could tell him to fuck off — but being mean to some of these assholes sometimes proved to be worse than just swallowing your pride and being nice. you didn’t know billy very well — and you weren’t about to find out while you were naked if he was an asshole or not.

“i’m going to be a bit,” you spoke. “i don’t mind if you come in.”

he looked at you uneasily before nodded curtly, lips parting. you closed your eyes and leaned back against the tub, letting your eyes drift closed. you heard the water running and the sound of soap being scrubbed onto skin, and felt better. the next sound you heard was a razor being pulled out and your eye drifted open.

he was shaving.

he kept his gaze on himself in the mirror as he spoke. “surprised the kid can shave?”

you smiled. “never thought you were a kid from how you were with a gun.”

that made him smile. “never seen a women like you with a gun before.”

you hummed in response, not exactly sure how to respond.

“come up here to escape?”

that made you laugh. you couldn’t help but let your gaze fall on his reflection in the mirror. his eyes were trained on his skin as he let the blade slide down his neck and pull up loose hairs. your mind was hazy with drink and heat, which made you forget to respond.

“some people would say it’s rude to stare, sweetheart.”

you laughed at that — he had you there.

“and some people would say it’s rude to intrude on a woman’s bath,” you countered.

he smiled, but kept his eyes off you. you’d like to think it was out of respect. “…and would you?”

“not with you,” you offered. “you’re the only one who hasn’t tried to make a pass at me.”

“not hard to believe,” he spoke. “downstairs they’ve got a running bet to see who will be the first with you.”

you scoffed. “in their dreams.”

billy didn’t respond. he was almost done with shaving. he was washing more of his upper arms in the sink, and you suddenly felt bad. you were only taking this long because you thought everyone would be preoccupied with the downstairs activities, and because you couldn’t exactly exit with him standing there — able to see you.

“i can leave if you want to wash,” you spoke.

“water will be cold,” he responded. “‘s fine — i’ll wait the hour.”

you weren’t sure why — but that made you feel bad.

“you could join me.”

you weren’t sure what brought that on, and you knew you’d probably regret it later. however, billy’s eyes drifted up the length of the mirror to the edge where you knew he could see the tub, to your eyes. you weren’t sure how you looked — but you knew your curls were piled on top of your head and you looked sleepy. relaxed, even. peaceful.

“i don’t think you mean that, sweetheart.”

you hummed. “you don’t have to. just thought i’d offer.”

he appeared to sigh, and that’s when you thought he would leave — but he didn’t.

instead, he locked the door.

“should’ve done that in the first place,” he spoke before coming towards the tub to unlace his pants.

you turned your head away from him and let out a small giggle, shielding your gaze from his naked form. “how would we have gotten so well acquainted then, mr. bonney?”

you heard him find the other side of the tub where he sat back against. you let your eye line find in front of you and your jaw almost dropped at the sight. billy appeared to struggle to get comfortable as he sank into the warmth of the tub. the water line came up to right under his chest, showing off all of his perfect and trim muscles. with billy’s arms stretched out around the edge of the tub… you got the perfect view of the stretched muscles of his biceps.

“do i need to remind you about staring?” he asked.

you weren’t sure if he was joking — but he was right. if you wanted respect, you had to give it, too.

but you couldn’t deny just how handsome he was.

“sorry,” you said with a coy smile, and let your head fall back against the tub again.

you could hear water slightly splashing from the other side of the tub. billy had extended his legs so they were brushing yours slightly, and you shivered at the thought.

“can you…” he began. “can you get my back?”

you lifted your head and smiled. i can do all that and more if you asked, you thought.

“sure,” you said with a simple smile.

billy turned around and handed you the soap. there were a few cuts and bruises littered on his back, and you tried to be as careful with them as possible. you started on his neck, working the soap and the sponge against his muscles.

he hummed in response. you could’ve died at the thought of the big, bad billy the kid keening into your touch because you were massaging his muscles just right.

“that feels good,” he spoke. “talented fingers i suppose.”

you laughed lightly at that. you kept the sponge on his shoulders, and then worked down towards the expansion of his shoulder blades. it was scary to see such a broad man before you as you were so bare, but also the look of him was so enticing. you drew rough circles on his skin and worked your way down to the middle of his back.

“that’s good,” he replied. “thank you, darlin’.”

you went to hand the sponge back to him, but he turned around in place instead. the tops of your breasts were showing and you knew he could see the wildness in your eyes.

“how’d a sweet thing like you end up with us?” he asked, eyes searching yours for the answer.

“maybe i’m just the only one who knows how to handle you boys,” you spoke, trying to be coy. “actually… one of them i grew up with. we’ve always worked together, but that’s as far as it’s ever gone.”

“and what would he say if he knew if you were in here with me?” he asked.

you scrunched your eyebrows at him. “wouldn’t be his business. he’s also got a pretty blonde in his lap tonight. change of pace from his usual red head.”

“and he missed a chance to get to see you like this?” he asked, tucking a curl behind your ear.

“is his loss your gain, mr. bonney?” you asked, a smile drifting onto your face.

that was bold. you knew it. you could feel it.

“i think you’d have to ask the pretty miss before me,” he responded, inching his face closer. “she’d be mighty sweet if she let me kiss her.”

“she’s pretty pissed you haven’t already.”

he stared at you for a few minutes with his plump and pink lips parted in such a way where you knew thoughts were running behind his pretty eyes. he dipped his forehead towards yours as the intensity of the situation mixed with the hot steam around you and the liquor inside both of you. he dipped his chin once, and caught your waiting lips with ease.

his lips were dry and cracked against yours, but you loved it. billy was the type of man that was hard and worked even harder, and every bit of him reflected that. his dark curls were twirling around his hairline, mixing with sweat and soapy water. you wanted to brush them back, hop in his lap, and kiss him until there was more water on the floor than in the tub.

but you couldn’t — not yet.

billy’s lips folded between yours as if he was just happy to be here — with you. the feeling was intoxicating as there was nothing like sharing intimacy with a sweet man in the comfort of hot water. you couldn’t help yourself in that moment — you brought your hand up to cup the side of his face, and he sucked in a sharp breath in response.

“you can touch me, you know,” you whispered.

“the things i want to do to you, darlin’…” he spoke, shaking his head and trying to catch his breath at the same time. “shouldn’t be wasted in a tub. let me take you back to your room.”

you both left the bathtub and tried your best to dry off as quickly as possible. it was almost hard to believe you were giggling with billy like innocents as you raced back to your room — hoping not to run into any more cowboys.

you immediately pushed him to sit down on the edge of the bed before you climbed into his lap. his thighs were strong and thick — the perfect foundation for a thing like you to hold yourself up enough to grab his cock in your hands, and swallow his moans through another kiss.

“tried not to stare in the bathtub, billy… but can you blame me?” you asked, breathless.

“noticed you starin’,” he grunted, running his calloused hands all over your body. “couldn’t help but stare back. needed to see where the trigger on you was.”

you squealed in delight at his dirty mouth before he threw you off his lap and rolled you over. he immediately started kissing down your body.

“i want you inside me, billy,” you whined. “not that.”

he worked his way back up to you before he caught you in another chaste kiss. against your lips, he spoke, “i’m a gentleman, sweetheart, first and foremost.”

“and what if a dirty little thing like me didn’t want a gentleman?”

he caught your chin in between his pointer finger and thumb and extended your neck ever so slightly. he looked down his nose at your pretty, flushed face. you smiled up at him as he scanned your face. “then i’d tell you — if i’ve got you all to myself, i’m going to do anything i want with that pretty little pussy. planned on tastin’ you, sweetheart — you got a problem with that?”

a wide grin spread across your face as your cheeks became rosier. “can’t say i can argue with you, then, cowboy.”

he pressed a heavy kiss to your lips, your cheek, one on the base of your neck — and then bit down hard on the skin of your shoulder. immediately, your hands came up to lay across his biceps before he began to suck on the spot, sending shock waves throughout your body. he withdrew from you and was in between your thighs in an instant.

he spread your legs and held them down in place. his tongue was strong and thick as it explored the places between your folds. you hoisted yourself onto your elbows so you could get a better look at the angel before you.

you watched as his eyes close as his tongue drew sloppy, wet circles around your clit. your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him bring a hand up to his mouth, lubricate his fingers, and prod at your entrance. billy let out a throaty groan as his two fingers slipped in with ease, exploring for that one special spot.

he watched as your pussy swallowed his fingers, hoping to trap them inside of you. you were almost vibrating at how good it felt to have his fingers inside of you and his drier thumb deliver the most delicious bouts of friction and pressure to your clit.

“yes —“ you gasped, gazing at his fingers.

his eyes immediately flicked up to yours. “still got a problem with this, doll?”

you folded your lips into each other as you shook your head slowly, holding his gaze. you were biting back the moan as he curled your fingers inside of you.

“no, that’s not how this works,” he stated. “if i’m making you feel that good, i should get to hear those pretty moans, don’t you think?”

a deep crease was forming in your brow with the perfect combination of friction, lubrication, pressure, and rhythm you had ever felt. you wanted to respond to him, of course, but how could you?

“i gotta work for it, that it?” he grunted. “oh, sweet thing…”

he shoved a third finger inside of you and you gasped. you couldn’t help it. you fisted the sheets on either side of you and threw your head back in the air. his thumb was working long, drawn out circles on your sensitive clit as your hips bucked up to meet his movements.

“that’s what you needed, baby?” he asked. “break so easily. i’d fit another, but this pussy is so sweet and tight — can’t fit.”

you were practically whining at his words. he would switch between his tongue and thumb every few seconds to show you the type of variety that had your toes curling. his groans against your pussy were the added vibration that kept your hips moving to meet his face.

“tastes so fuckin’ sweet,” he grunted, his eyes closed. “can’t wait to stuff my cock in there.”

“don’t be mean to me, billy,” you gasped. “i want to feel your cock so bad, please…”

“no, baby,” he refused. “not until i make you feel good. you want my cock? yeah, well — you know what i want.”

you whined in frustration at his words — his words, the addition of what was making the heat and pressure build, and build, and build inside you until you were a sobbing mess on the bed.

“that’s it, sweetheart — give in,” he gasped. “i wanna know how good i’m making you feel.”

his voice was so husky it was taking over all of your senses. you hung onto every word as he led you closer and closer to what was your tipping point. he was stretching you so taut — like a string, ready to snap. when he suddenly pulled his hand away, you barely noticed it — until he replaced it with his cock.

you gasped at what came next.

first it was your legs — they immediately began to shake uncontrollably. the immense pressure started at your curled toes, your stretched feet, and worked its way up all the way to your shaking calves and thighs. the warmth coaxed your hips into a soft roll as you rode out your orgasm — blinded by the ecstasy of it all.

you immediately grabbed onto billy for dear life as all of your senses fucking swam. it was wave, after wave, after wave that hit you, arched your back towards the ceiling, and left you fucking breathless. your mouth fell open instantly, parted as whines and soft moans left and filled the open air of your bedroom.

and what did billy do? he grabbed you by the chin, still rutting his hips against yours, and spit in your fucking mouth.

“swallow,” he ordered, eyes boring down into yours.

you gasped as you understood his command, and like the good girl you were — you did as you were told.

“good girl,” he whispered from above you, stroking your chin.

you sucked in a sharp breath of air as you tried to regain your senses. you hoisted yourself back into your elbows, trying to focus — but it was just so hard. your pussy was so, so sensitive and it was like billy’s cock knew exactly out how to drag out your orgasm. you glanced up at billy, and realized your vision was blurry. shattered, fucked out beyond belief — you realized there were tears, literal tears in your eyes.

“no breaks for you, sweetheart,” he spoke, leaning over and holding your hips down. “need to make sure this pussy knows who she belongs to.”

your body refused to stop shaking — but it gave into every touch, caress, pull, and push from billy. you were his to use and you fucking relished in the feeling.

through your dark, thick, damp lashes, you glanced up at him. immediately, his bright, wild eyes connected with yours. there was no stopping the animal before you — not until he got his fix. the pure and pretty girl who always surprised the group with her skill was laying beneath him like a fucked out doll and he couldn’t get enough.

“please, billy,” you whined, biting down on your lip. “use my pussy just like that…”

“my fucking pussy,” he grunted.

“all yours, baby,” you gasped, laying victim to the curling warmth inside your womb once again. it was like an itch that needed to be scratched, and only billy could fix it. the idea of a second orgasm taunted you — teased you, until it was the only thing you could think about. you were close… so close… “billy, fuck — you’re going to make me — you’re gonna —“

“that’s it, baby, yeah —“ his thrusts were getting sloppier now as a light sheen of sweat lay across his forehead. the veins in his biceps and neck were protruding and his eyes were trained on your face. “bein’ so good f’me.”

“billy —“ you cried, tears coming to your eyes again. you reached for him, and brought him down to you. he held you by the back of the head and held your jaw in place with his thumb. through gritted teeth and wet eyes, you sobbed, “driving me fucking crazy.”

“yeah, yeah?” he taunted. “good. boutta make a mess of this fuckin’ pussy.”

with one last thrust, you curled into billy’s neck and cried. actually cried. he held you close to him as he continued to thrust inside of you — pressing fat, wet kisses to the side of your face. you were shaking in his hold, trying so desperately to hold onto reality — but it was slipping. it was slipping farther and farther away with every sweet word that billy ghosted over your ear.

“say you’re mine,” he ordered, with desperation in your voice. “say you’re mine, and i’ll cum.”

“i’m yours, billy,” you sobbed. “i’m yours. only yours.”

an animalistic groan left billy’s mouth as he tugged on your hair. he pulled your neck back and taut, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and biting down on your shoulder. his body pulsed one, two, three times as his orgasm overtook him and you. you were a weeping, crying mess and took everything that billy gave you.

he rut his cock into you a few more times as you both came down for your highs. billy was so commanding in bed — but after? nothing compared to how he was after. he pulled you into his lap, cock still inside you, and began peppering kisses all over your face. sweet nothings were whispered into your ear, but all you could do was whimper quietly in response. he laughed slightly in your ear, his breath ticking your sensitive skin, and dug his nose into your hairline.

“never getting rid of me now, sweet thing.”

- - -

would love to hear your thoughts :)

-L

[kiwisandpearls]

peace and quiet

Pure Vanilla Cookie X Gn! Reader

summary: you fall asleep in a meadow only to wake up and find your head laying on a particular cookie’s lap.

warnings: very short probably, not at all corresponding with crk’s lore/world building, reader uses they/them pronouns, potentially OOC Pure Vanillia Cookie, this fic can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic

You plopped yourself down onto the meadow of grass with a sigh before staring up at the clear blue sky. White fluffy clouds were slowly rolling past your vision as the scent of dew coated the air. You didn’t often get these moments of tranquility. Going on adventures with GingerBrave and the others, occasionally working with the Ancient Heroes, recently you’ve found that you’ve barely ever had any time for yourself.

You let out a small huff before turning on your side, allowing for blades of grass to tickle the side of your face and your eyes to slightly droop. You knew you needed to head back to the Cookie Kingdom soon but…it wouldn’t hurt to stay out here a bit longer…right? At least just to rest your eyes for a bit.

Your eyes slowly closed, with the whistling wind and chirping birds lulling you to sleep with the grass beneath you acting as an impromptu bed.

As you began to stir, you felt that your head was placed on top of a soft surface with something rhythmically petting the top of your head. You let out a small mumble and forced your eyes halfway open, noting that you were still in a grassy field. You then lazily turned your head slightly to catch who or whatever was petting your head, only for you to meet the heterochromatic eyes of Pure Vanilla Cookie, who wore a soft smile on his face. 

You tiredly blinked, staring up at him for a few seconds before it finally registered to you that you were laying your head on Pure Vanilla Cookie’s — the Pure Vanilla Cooke’s — lap. Your eyes flew wide open before you let out a yelp and shot up into a sitting position, backing away a bit from Pure Vanilla Cookie.

“Oh my witches! I’m so so so sorry, Pure Vanilla Cookie!” You squeaked out, standing up and brushing off the grass on your clothes, all the while looking anywhere but at Pure Vanilla Cookie’s face.

“I— I was just about to head back to the Cookie Kingdom, but then, I— well— um…” You attempted to stammer out an explanation before trailing off when you felt Pure Vanilla Cookie gently take your hand in his. You hesitantly looked back at Pure Vanilla Cookie to see him simply, patiently smiling up at you.

“It’s alright, (Y/n) Cookie, there’s no need for you to apologize to me,” he said before gently pulling you to sit back down.

“But…still…” You mumbled, looking down while picking at a loose string of your clothes. You heard Pure Vanilla Cookie hum before he gently lifted your head with a finger under your chin. His gaze was soft, understanding.

“I can see you’re still tired. Why don’t we stay here for a little while longer? I’m sure everyone at the Cookie Kingdom won’t mind,” Pure Vanilla Cookie tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for a response from you. You stared at him, wide-eyed, contemplating his proposition. You then softly smiled and nodded your head, watching as Pure Vanilla Cookie’s smile grew slightly before he gently guided your head back onto his lap.

You slowly fell back into a peaceful sleep as Pure Vanilla Cookie went back to rhythmically petting your head, the birds chirping nearby all the while.

This is a short one but that’s primarily just because I didn’t want to focus to much time on this and lose even more sleep than I already have lol

Anyways I don’t really have any notes for this one. Probably gonna be making more cookie run kingdom fics, especially since I’ve gotten back into playing it so

ALSO, I would’ve used a gif of normal pure vanilla cookie but I couldn’t I liked so I just used an awakened pure vanilla cookie gif lol (not complaining that much tho, he’s very pretty)

[mercurial-chuckles]

Mirthless Monday Thought

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Word Count: ~500 A/N: I was in a mood, oops! And this was scheduled for yesterday, but looks like it was eaten away! Up for some feels?! Here you go! Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! GIF credits to @buckybarnesj Divider credits to @buck-star Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

Read the final part Catharsis

Indulge Away!

"Mind your business." Bucky regretted the words the second they left his mouth.

They weren't meant for you. They were but a defense, a wall hastily built to shield himself from feelings he didn't know how to process. He hadn't been truly social since Hydra. And yet, you'd never been anything but kind to him.

It wasn't your fault he'd been lost in his mind, consumed by endless thoughts of you. Days filled with hopeful dreams, a possibility that maybe, just maybe, he could have a future with you. Nights consumed by nightmares, the horrors that a distant shell of a body committed burned into his mind, twisting you into them. You always starred in his nightmares these days, haunting him in every way, even when he woke.

That night, he'd just escaped one of those dreams. Shaken and raw, he stumbled into the kitchen, hoping to stuff himself with food, only to find you sitting with your laptop and a steaming cup of tea.

You'd looked at him with those soft, concerned eyes and asked, "Shall I make you some tea?"

It was too much. The comfort you offered collided with the fear he couldn't shake. And his stupid mouth had no rhyme or reason, muttering, "Mind your business."

Your smile faltered.

His heart cracked wide open. He froze, speechless at himself, of the sin he'd just committed.

You nodded, collecting your laptop and tea with slow, careful movements, making yourself small.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, voice soft but heavy, and then you were gone.

Bucky stood there, hollow and paralyzed. It felt like he was back in Hydra's chair, helpless and fear-ridden with added self-loathing.

The rest of the night was a losing battle. Should he go after you and beg forgiveness? Or was it better to sink into the misery he'd brought on himself? He didn't deserve you, after all.

~

The next two days were hell. You were nowhere to be found. By the time he resolved to apologize--beg, plead, do whatever it took to make it right--Maria Hill called a meeting.

He shifted in his seat, restless, eyes darting to the door every few seconds. You were always the first to arrive, sometimes bringing something you'd cooked or setting up the coffee.

But today, you weren't there. Anxiety churned in his stomach.

Maria broke the silence.

"The mission went south. It was a trap," she said bluntly, her voice heavy.

"She sent the five agents back as she couldn't pilot the jet herself. She created a diversion to give them a chance to escape. No one's heard from her since. We don't know if…if she made it to the safehouse."

Bucky's blood ran cold. The words violently thrashed in his mind, refusing to settle. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. Were you on that mission? How had he not known?

The room felt suffocating. His chair scraped violently against the floor as he stood, his movements frantic. Panic and fury twisted together, and his voice came out ragged, broken.

"Where is she?"

Steve stood, hurrying to his side, but Bucky held his hand, stopping him. He was this close to punching anyone in his way if they tried him.

"Buck…"

"Give me the fucking details, Captain!" he roared, his voice shaking with desperation.

I know...I know...I just had to get it out of my chest! 🩷🥹

Read the final part Catharsis

♡ Weeklong Thingamajig ♡

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[omgkatherine01]

Can you please do Sergei surprises female reader in the shower and they began to have hot shower sex? Ty

Steam and Surprise

Pairing: Sergei Kravinoff x Fem!reader

Note: Short, sorry! And the gif is just... I had to put it in lol

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

The warm water cascaded over your skin as you let out a contented sigh, washing away the stresses of the day. Lost in thought, you didn't hear the bathroom door quietly open. Suddenly, strong arms encircled your waist from behind and you let out a startled gasp.

"Shh, it's just me, my love," Sergei's deep, accented voice murmured in your ear. His muscular form pressed against your back as he nuzzled your neck.

"Sergei! You scared me," you exclaimed, turning to face him. Water droplets clung to his tanned skin and dark hair as he gazed at you with those intense hazel eyes.

"I couldn't resist surprising my beautiful девушка," he purred, cupping your face in his large, calloused hands. His thumbs traced your cheekbones as he let his lips gently against yours. The kiss was warm and tender, a soothing balm that melted away the last remnants of your surprise.

"You always know how to make an entrance," you teased, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. A playful smile danced on your lips, and you could see the corner of his mouth twitch with amusement.

Sergei chuckled softly, his breath mingling with the steam rising from the shower. "You know how much I love it when you’re surprised," he said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. His fingers slipped down to your waist, pulling you closer until there was scarcely any space left between your bodies. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, mixing with the heat of the water.

Your breath hitched as Sergei's hands roamed lower, caressing your curves. His lips found yours again in a deeper, more passionate kiss. You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, pulling him closer as the water continued to cascade over your entwined bodies.

Sergei backed you against the cool tile wall, his muscular form pressing you firmly against it. His lips trailed hot kisses down your neck as his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs circling teasingly. You arched into his touch with a soft moan.

"Sergei, please," you whimpered, overcome with desire.

He growled low in his throat, lifting you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he entered you in one smooth motion. You cried out in pleasure, clinging to his broad shoulders.

The sensation overwhelmed you, each thrust drawing you deeper into an ecstasy that blurred the lines of reality. The soft rush of water became a backdrop to your shared rhythm, the world outside fading away as you lost yourself in Sergei's embrace. His powerful frame held you effortlessly, every movement intentional and filled with a raw passion that ignited every nerve ending.

"Do you feel that?" he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "This is ours--just us."

You nodded, unable to form words, the pleasure coursing through you stealing your breath away. His eyes bore into yours, fierce and protective, as if he were guarding this moment against any intruding thought or doubt. He was a force of nature, and in this steamy sanctuary, it felt as though nothing could touch you.

With each thrust, Sergei pushed you closer to the brink, and your body responded eagerly, arching towards him in desperate need. You could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter with each powerful movement, an electric pulse that threatened to spill over.

"Let go," he urged, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "Just feel."

His hands gripped your hips, guiding your body as you moved together in perfect harmony, the water cascading around you like a veil of warmth and intimacy. Your breaths mingled, each gasp and moan echoing off the tiled walls, creating a symphony of passion.

As you felt the wave of pleasure cresting, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his intoxicating scent--earthy and wild. The world faded even further; it was just you and him in this moment, suspended in time. With each thrust, he drew you closer to the edge where exhilaration met bliss.

"Let me hear you," Sergei murmured, his tone commanding yet tender. His hands tightened around you as if he were trying to anchor you to him, to this moment. The pressure inside you swelled, a tidal wave ready to crash.

You gasped his name, a plea and a promise rolled into one. "Sergei," you breathed, the syllables trembling on your lips.

"Good," he encouraged, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated against your skin. "Let it go."

With one final thrust, the world exploded around you--the heat of the water, the hardness of the tiles, and the strength of Sergei wrapped around you like a cocoon. You cried out, a sound filled with pure abandon as waves of ecstasy washed over you. Each pulse sent shockwaves through your body, each soft whimper mingling with the sound of rushing water.

Sergei’s grip on your hips didn’t falter; he held you tight, guiding you through the storm of pleasure. His own breath quickened as he chased his own release, eyes locked onto yours, his expression fierce and filled with unrestrained need. The moment stretched endlessly, a sweet eternity as you both rode the crest of bliss together.

With one last surge, he surrendered to the waves that crashed over him, his body tensing as he filled you completely. You felt the warmth spread between you, mingling with the hot water cascading down your bodies, creating a cocoon of sensation that enveloped you both.

As the storm began to settle, Sergei’s grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t let you go entirely. Instead, he held you close against him, his heart pounding in rhythm with yours. The sound of the water continued to cascade around you, a gentle reminder of the world outside this intimate bubble.

You gently placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his gaze to meet yours before leaning forward and pressing your lips against his gently, tasting the saltiness of your shared passion mixed with the warmth of the water. Sergei's eyes softened, and he responded with a kiss that was both tender and possessive, a silent promise that this moment would linger long after the steam had dissipated.

[harryssyndrome]

Kiwi baby! | h.s 🥝

Summery: Harry’s wife surprises him during Kiwi with the best news ever.

Word count: 3.2k || Masterlist 🍉🍓❤️

The gif and the ai image are both mine! Don’t you dare steal it! I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE EITHER OF THEM OR STEAL MY WORK!!!

On a kind note, I hope you enjoy reading!!! I love this one-shot sm <333 I couldn’t wait to write it the whole night ever since I got the idea. This is probably my most favorite piece of work ever. I guess I’ll make this a part of ‘Our Little World: Documentary series’. REQUEST ARE OPEN! 🌊

Posted on: November 24th, 2024. (IST)

Tag-list: @angeldavis777 @fruity-harry || TAGLIST OPEN 💌

The evening sky above the stadium was painted in deep shades of purple, and the crowd beneath it surged with energy, every soul gathered to see him perform. Harry Styles was in his element, bathed in bright lights, his smile as wide as the stage itself, his voice carrying through the open air. The music was loud, vibrant, and electric—Kiwi blasting through the speakers as Harry moved across the stage, every step laced with the confidence and excitement that only live performances could stir.

His outfit tonight was nothing short of breathtaking—a red and black Gucci harlequin-patterned suit that shimmered under the lights, accentuating his every movement. The slickness of his hair, now a little longer than usual, fell just enough to brush his forehead as he swung his body to the rhythm of the song. Fans were ecstatic, their voices harmonizing with his in perfect unity, shouting the words to Kiwi as if their very existence depended on it.

The crowd threw water at him, a playful and typical reaction to the intense heat of the show. Harry, ever the entertainer, caught one of the bottles and used it to douse them back with a mischievous grin. The energy was alive in a way only concerts could make him feel. He laughed along with his fans, feeling that familiar thrill that had kept him addicted to this life—the adoration of strangers, the pulse of the music, and the sheer joy of performing.

But amidst the buzz of lights, the sweat dripping from his skin, and the joy in the air, there was a quiet thought that kept tugging at him. YN. His wife. She wasn’t in the VIP stand like usual. He could always rely on her to be there, her smile always radiating at him from the crowd, her presence a constant comfort. But tonight, the spot where she always stood was empty. The concern he tried to shake off kept creeping into his mind, distracting him in the back of his head, even as his heart continued to race with excitement from the show.

He couldn’t help but glance over to the section where she usually sat, hoping to catch a glimpse of her face, knowing it would soothe the small, gnawing worry he felt. But the space remained empty.

His foot tapped the beat of the song beneath him, trying to focus on the crowd once more. He tossed the water bottle at the fans, his fingers brushing the cold plastic. The adrenaline kept him high, kept him in the moment, but his gaze drifted again.

Where was she?

YN had been a little quieter than usual in the past few days. He hadn’t pushed for any answers, but now he found himself wondering if something was wrong. Maybe she was feeling unwell. Maybe she just wanted to have a quiet night in. Still, the thought of not seeing her there tonight gnawed at him.

His voice still rang out with the words of the song, but his mind was divided between the stage and the empty stand. He kept looking—one eye on the crowd, the other scanning for her. And just as his next verse was coming up, he saw it.

There she was.

Right in the front row—so close to the barricade, she was almost on the stage.

His breath caught in his throat.

She wasn’t in the VIP section. No, she was right there. In the heart of the crowd. The waves of people parted like the Red Sea for her, and there she stood—holding a sign. Her figure illuminated by the stage lights, her long hair falling in waves over her shoulders, a look of pure joy and love in her eyes.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the music, the fans, the lights—all of it was distant. Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of her. The sign she held was simple, but to him, it was everything.

“I’m having your baby” it read, scrawled across a bright poster board in bold, handwritten letters.

He froze. His heart nearly stopped.

She’s pregnant.

He blinked, thinking he must be imagining it, but no—she was smiling at him now, holding up the sign for him to see, her eyes locked on his. There was no mistaking it. YN—his wife—was carrying their baby.

Harry’s pulse raced as the flood of emotions hit him. His heart thudded against his chest like it wanted to burst free. The happiness, the disbelief, the excitement—it all rushed through him like a tidal wave, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt beneath his feet.

He had wanted this. He had dreamed of this. Of being a father. Of having a child with YN. They had talked about it before, casually, in quiet moments after dinner, while walking through the park, in bed at night. But it had never been a “right now” kind of conversation. They had agreed that when it happened, it happened. And now… it had happened.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and his throat tightened. The emotions, overwhelming and beautiful, blurred his vision, but all he could do was stand there on the stage, dumbstruck by the sight of his wife, her belly now holding the future they had always dreamed of.

In a rush of pure joy, Harry stumbled forward, intent on reaching her, to hold her, to kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her. But as he took a step toward her, he didn’t see the puddle of water gathering at the edge of the stage, a result of the fans tossing their bottles earlier.

And then, it happened.

His foot slipped.

There was a split second of disbelief before Harry lost his footing completely, crashing down to the stage in an ungraceful heap. The crowd gasped collectively, their moment of joy paused in shock. But Harry, ever the professional, couldn’t help but laugh at himself. His laughter echoed through the microphone as he quickly scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, still chuckling as he shook off the fall. The fans laughed along with him, the tension breaking as they cheered even louder, impressed by his quick recovery. Harry took a deep breath, regaining his balance and composure. He grabbed the microphone again, still laughing, and gave the crowd a playful wink.

“You okay, Harry?” someone from the crew called out, teasing him from the side.

“Yeah, I’m good! Just a little slippery, that’s all!” Harry replied, still grinning.

His gaze immediately returned to YN. She was still standing at the barricade, her sign still held high, her face alight with joy, her smile as radiant as the sun. It was in that moment that Harry realized he couldn’t wait any longer. The song was still playing behind him, the familiar rhythm pulsing through his body, but he couldn’t focus on the lyrics anymore. Not with the overwhelming emotions flooding his heart.

He took a step forward, slowly walking toward the edge of the stage, his eyes still locked on YN, who was holding his gaze with the same intensity. With each step, his heart pounded harder in his chest.

And before he even knew it, his knees buckled beneath him, and Harry collapsed to the stage once more, but this time, it was with pure emotion.

He covered his face with his hands, unable to contain the tears that had begun to fall freely down his cheeks. After a few moments, Harry wiped his eyes, clearing the tears away as he stood up once more. His voice was thick with emotion when he spoke into the mic, his words trembling with happiness:

“My wife is having my baby!” he shouted, his voice trembling. “It’s all my business!”

The crowd erupted in pure, ecstatic noise, the roar of the fans filling the stadium as Harry remained on his knees, the overwhelming weight of the moment too much to bear. His chest was heaving, his body shaking as the reality of the news consumed him.

“Is that real?” a fan shouted.

“Yes, it’s real!” Harry replied, laughing through his tears. “I’m going to be a dad! A dad!” He repeated the words as if he needed to hear them again, the joy overwhelming every part of him.

The fans roared in approval, the noise a chaotic symphony of celebration. But Harry didn’t care about any of that now. He didn’t care about the performance or the crowd or the cameras recording every moment. All he could think about was YN.

His mind was consumed by thoughts of the future—the life they would build together, the family they would raise. He quickly stood to his feet, wiping his eyes, and glanced once more at YN.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Harry dropped the mic to the stage and sprinted toward the barricade, his heart pounding with anticipation.

Harry could feel the heat of the stage lights burning against his skin, but they didn’t matter. The noise of the crowd was deafening, but it was like a distant hum. His heart was the loudest thing he could hear, thrumming in his chest, pumping through his veins with an almost frantic rhythm. His legs carried him toward YN like they had a mind of their own. He was driven by a force he couldn’t describe, propelled by the overwhelming joy of the moment.

Fans parted for him as he made his way to the front of the stage, their cheers rising to a fever pitch as they realized what was happening. Harry didn’t hear their excitement—he only heard the steady beat of his heart, louder now than the music, than anything else in the world.

YN. His wife. The love of his life. The mother of his child.

As he approached the barricades, YN’s smile never wavered. She was grinning from ear to ear, her eyes shining with excitement, her hand placed lovingly over her flat belly. As soon as Harry reached her, he lifted her into his arms, spinning her around in a joyous embrace, laughing like a child. The crowd cheered even louder, their love for Harry and YN growing with every passing second.

She had always known that he wanted this more than anything. They both had. But now it was real. She was carrying their baby, and everything about their lives was about to change.

“YNN…” Harry’s voice caught in his throat as he reached her. He placed her back on the ground, eyes never leaving hers. She was glowing—absolutely radiant in the soft light of the stage, and he couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as his arms reached out to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. The crowd cheered louder, but Harry only had eyes for YN, holding her close, feeling the warmth of her body against his.

“I love you,” Harry whispered into her ear, his voice thick with emotion. “I love you so much. I can’t believe we’re going to be parents.”

YN pulled back slightly to look at him, her hand resting on his chest, feeling the erratic beat of his heart under her fingers. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her smile wide and full of joy, matching his own. “I know. I can’t believe it either,” she whispered, voice trembling just slightly. “I wanted to tell you in the cutest way possible, but you’ve already made it the most unforgettable moment of my life.”

Harry’s breath caught again, a lump forming in his throat as he looked down at her belly, still so small but already holding the life they had created together. His hands rested gently on her sides as he crouched down slightly, his eyes never leaving her. He placed his lips softly on her stomach, his kiss a promise—a vow. The fans around them cheered again, but this time, it was just background noise to Harry.

“I’m going to be the best dad for you,” Harry muttered against her belly, his voice filled with awe. “I promise.”

YN’s fingers threaded through his hair as she smiled down at him, her heart swelling with love. “I know you will be. I’ve always known,” she whispered, her voice full of faith and affection.

“You’re going to be the best dad our baby could ever ask for.”

As Harry pulled back from the kiss, he stood to his full height and stared at YN, his hands still resting on her waist, his expression filled with wonder. His lips curled into a grin, and he couldn’t resist pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead before meeting her eyes once more.

“I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion, as if the words didn’t fully make sense to him yet. But the more he said them, the more real it became. “You and me. We’re going to have a little baby.”

YN’s eyes sparkled, the tears now freely falling down her cheeks. She looked at him with a mix of love, gratitude, and joy. She reached up to touch his face, her thumb brushing gently against the stubble on his jaw. “It’s happening, Harry,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s happening.”

Harry smiled wider, and without thinking, he reached down, cupping her face with both hands. He kissed her then—slow, gentle, tender—a kiss that held all of his joy, his love, his gratitude, his hope for their future. This was more than a kiss; it was a promise, a symbol of everything they were about to become. Harry pulled away slowly, his forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath.

“I can’t wait,” Harry murmured, his lips still grazing hers as he spoke. “I can’t wait to hold our baby. To be there for you. For everything.”

The love in his voice was enough to make YN’s heart swell to bursting. He kissed her again, softer this time, and then looked back at the crowd.

Harry wrapped her in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around again as he laughed.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

YN laughed, her fingers threading through his damp curls. “I love you too. Always.”

Harry set her down gently, his hands never leaving her as he looked into her eyes. “You’re my everything, YNN. You and this baby—you’re everything.”

Tears slid down YN’s cheeks, and she nodded, her heart full. “And you’re ours.”

Harry dropped to his knees once more, pressing his lips to her stomach in a gesture so tender it made YN’s breath catch.

“Thank you for making my life so much beautiful,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “I’ll love this baby with everything I’ve got. And I’ll love you even more.”

YN’s hands rested on his shoulders, her fingers squeezing gently. “You already are, Harry.”

The evening continued around them, but for Harry and YN, time seemed to slow. The music had become a distant hum, the chatter of the fans a soft murmur in the background. All that mattered was each other.

As they stood at the barricades, Harry reached up to take YN’s hand in his, squeezing it gently. He leaned in once more, pressing a kiss to her lips, soft and slow, as if savoring every moment, every sensation. His heart felt full to bursting. He had everything he had ever wanted—YN, their love, and now, the promise of their baby.

He felt as if his entire life had led up to this point—this single, beautiful moment. The rush of emotions from earlier hadn’t yet subsided, but now there was a calmness in him, a peace. He smiled as he looked down at YN’s hand in his, then back into her eyes.

“I know we’ve been through so much already,” Harry said quietly, his voice full of emotion. “But I feel like the best part of our journey is just beginning.”

YN nodded, her smile soft and full of love. “I feel the same way.”

Harry squeezed her hand once more, then stepped back slightly, turning his attention back to the crowd. “I’m going to be a dad,” he said out loud, his voice full of awe and happiness. He turned to face the audience, the microphone still lying on the stage. “Everyone, this is the best moment of my life,” he said, his voice carrying the emotion of the words. “My wife, YN, is having my baby.”

The moment was surreal. The fans were still screaming, the cameras still rolling, but none of it mattered. For Harry, nothing would ever top this moment. It wasn’t just another performance or another stage—it was the night his greatest dream began to come true.

As they stood there together, the crowd began to chant, “Baby Styles! Baby Styles!”

Harry threw his head back in laughter, turning to wave at the audience. “You lot are mad!” he called out, but his face said it all—he was over the moon.

The crowd continued on cheering wildly, but Harry’s focus was on the woman in front of him. She was glowing, every inch of her radiating love and joy, and he couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest man alive.

He leaned in to kiss her once more, this time a gentle, loving kiss on her lips. He felt everything he had ever hoped for in that kiss—his future, his family, and the love of his life, all wrapped up in one perfect moment.

As the kiss ended, he pulled back, his forehead resting against hers. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

“I love you too,” YN whispered back.

They stood there for a moment longer, the world around them continuing on, but nothing mattered now but each other, and the new life they were about to bring into the world. Together.

The fans’ cheers faded into the background as Harry held YN’s hand tightly, the two of them standing side by side, facing the future with all the love and hope that their hearts could hold.

Harry stood up and kissed her again, his heart still racing, his mind still in a daze, but in the best way possible. His dream of being a dad was coming true, and no matter what came next, he knew he had everything he ever needed right here, in this moment. He knew one thing for sure: their love was only just beginning

And with that, Harry Styles was no longer just a rock star on stage—he was going to be a dad, and that was the greatest role he’d ever play.

[httpsseli]

𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 ✿; 𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗒

;𝗉𝗅𝗈𝗍. in which you tease ethan by sucking on a loli <3.

;𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀. smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving) brat!reader, switch!ethan, hair pulling, slight choking. silly ending x

authors note// gif is not mine at all! found on pinterest so whoever made this, credits to them! first time writing for this cutie so lets see how this goes🫡🫡.

it wasn't part of your weekend plans to sit down on your counter stool with ethan, but there he was in your apartment. ethan, the nerdy and cute boy, always seemed to shyly ask you for help, no matter what the occasion was. you couldn't help but notice his nervousness and blushing around you, as well as his attempts to look away. you also knew that he liked you, based on the compliments he gave and the way he reacted to your scent.

meanwhile for you, he was a cutie. he was a caring sweet boy, he always offered to stop by your house just to hang out and play video games, the two of you always shared a moment of giggling but you guys were idiots desperate and needy for each other. there was clearly moments where you heard him touching himself to you from the next door apartment that he shared with chad, ethan himself has also had an encounter of your sweet moans he wants to hear in person and not through a wall.

and now, here you two were. tutoring and chatting about whatever in life.

“so.. y-you turned this i-in, already?” he said looking at you, you looked back. that dirty thought coming back to your head as you nodded your head, “yes you dork, i always turn everything in before you..” you laughed holding onto the lollipop you’ve been sucking on. he rolled his eyes, you wrapped your lips around the sucker, looking at ethan. his curls and his natural puppy eyes making you already wet yourself.

“o-okay! so..” you cleared your throat, accidentally putting your hand on his thigh, sitting up. he looked at you quickly, you looked at him smiling and laughing. “sorry!” you said, he blushed a bit and you went back to sucking the flavor off the lollipop. he looked at your plumped lips, covered in that damn blueberry lip gloss. “hello! your homework is down here.. not my lips!” you said, he looked at you again, his eyes having a little sparkle. “h-huh? s-sorry..” he said, your finger pressing on his thigh. “w-what are you..” he stuttered, swallowing dryly.

you swirled your tongue around the sucker, “nothingg, i’m just helping you with your homework..” you said, he felt blood rush down to his cock, and a boner would appear minutes later. you sucked loudly on the lollipop, ethan knew you were taunting him. “alright that’s enough.” he grabbed the candy throwing it across the kitchen, “hey! why’d’d you—“ he looked at you. “get up.” he said, you scoffed with your mouth hanging open. “uh no..” you crossed your arms, he got up pulling you from the chair. “ethan what the fuck! ow!” he threw you across his shoulder, slapping your ass harshly causing you to blush and smirk.

he went to your room, closed the door, and locked it before throwing you on the bed. you were about to sit up before he grabbed your cheek, kissing you deeply and hungrily. you kissed back, wrapping your arms around his neck. he caressed your clit through your panties, causing you to whimper in his mouth. hands starting to tangle with his curls, he tugged on your tube top. “take it off.” he said breathlessly before diving back down to kiss you. you pulled away, giggling pushing him down on your bed this time.

“don’t get too hard e..” you said giggling, looking directly at his boner. he rolled his eyes, you got out of your white converse before pulling down on your skirt. his breathing hitched, your hands traveling up to your boobs. you pulled down the top, your boobs bouncing out while you pulled the top off. you walked over to ethan, who was eyeing every little thing, his eyes glued on to you. you sat in front of him, sitting on your knees. you palmed his boner through the jeans smiling. “is this where you need me badly?” you said giggling, you unbuttoned his jeans.

his breathing slowly began getting heavier as time went by, you pulled down both his jeans and boxers at the same time, his cock springing out as you looked at his length. your mouth watering at the sight, your motion picking up itself already starting to stroke him, you spit down onto the tip. collecting the wetness as your hand moved up, he tilted his head holding back a groan. you wrapped your mouth around the top, he groaned. you swirled your tongue around in little circles, and you began to take in more, accelerating your breathing through your nostrils. he leaned his head back, letting out a moan. you bobbled your head slowly, he looked down watching your head movements. his hand making contact with your hair, tugging on it. “look at me when you do this.” he panted.

you hummed, bobbing your head matching the rhythm of your head with your hand that was jerking him off. “so so good.. fuckkkkghhh..” he whined, laughing breathlessly. your eyes all teary, hollowing your cheeks, dipping your head in deeper. he moaned softly, picking up more of your hair into a shifted ponytail. you looked up at him, and he bucked his hips up causing you to gag. “just exactly what i wanted to s-see..” his stomach turned into putty, and with a bit of strength he got up. he pushed on your head deeper, thrusting his cock into your mouth now. you held onto his thighs, your nails leaving crescent marks on his milky skin. you gagged, once the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. you pulled your mouth away, gasping for air. a string of saliva and pre-cum attaching onto the bottom of your lip to the head.

you looked up at him, stroking him slowly yet again. he grunted, holding onto your hair tighter. you took him back in your mouth, bobbing your head quickly. he looked down at you, your watery eyes causing him to twitch in your mouth. “j-jesus, you’re incredible at this..” he stuttered, you moaned around him bobbing your head deeply. he bit down on his bottom lip, and you snickered at how noisy he was. “oh fuck i-i’m going to..” he moaned loudly pushing your head deeper, your nose against his pelvic bone causing you to gag, he filled your mouth up with his sweet liquid. you pulled your mouth away.

he sat back on the bed, and you stuck your tongue out at him. he looked down at you, and you giggled giving him a wink before swallowing his seed. his cock twitched when he saw your mouth covered in his cum, and your mascara nearly smudged off including your white eyeliner, you pulled on his shirt, “take it off..” he pulled the bottom of his shirt over the top, taking it off. you sat on his lap, kissing him deeply, he kissed back already slipping his tongue in, gripping onto your ass. just as you were about to roll your hips, he gripped onto your waist holding you tightly against his chest. he put you down against your pillows. “you’re so fucking noisy.” you said catching your breath from the deep kiss, he slapped your hip. “we’ll see about that sweetie, maybe your even more noisier.” he said tilting his head.

your eyes were too focused on his eyes and his face, not even focused on what his hand was doing. he smirked, wrapping his hand around your thigh, and lifting it onto his shoulder. “mhm, sure.” you said rolling your eyes, he pushed himself in causing you to whine. he chuckled pulling out, “you can take more right? after all you enjoyed mouth fucking that lollipop.” he said slamming himself in fully. you arched your back with a loud cry, he thrust rapidly not letting you adjust to his size. your hands gripped onto his bicep, your moans were way too loud. nearly sounding like a porn video was being shot, he covered your mouth with his palm.

“shut up.” you moaned into his hand, legs wrapping around his waist, he found himself at a deeper angle causing him to moan every time he slid himself in, he looked down at your boobs watching them bounce up and down, his fingers were close to your mouth, you opened up your mouth taking his fingers into your mouth. his eyes slightly widened, and you sucked onto his index finger hoping your moans went quiet. his tight grip unexpectedly on your waist turned you around. you giggled, turning your head over to your shoulder.

ethan’s cock twitched at the view of yourself in your fours while your hair was flicked to the left side of your shoulder. you rolled your eyes, “just going to stand there gawking at my ass?” you said, he slapped your ass causing you to moan. “less bratty, more moaning.” he said, slamming his cock inside you again causing you to let out a long moan. he shoved your head into the blanket, your hole filled with the mix of your wetness causing a milky color against his dick and your ass.

you gripped onto your pillows, arching your back even further out. ���what a brat, begging for more aren’t you?” he said slapping your ass, the second slap leaving a mark. you were moaning repeatedly, his cock making wet noises against your ass. he pulled on your hair, making your head lean back further.

“answer me y/n.”

“yes!” you said, he let go of your hair. “don’t.” thrust “drop.” thrust “your head.” he said, you nodded your head quickly, “mmhm!” you said agreeing, he held onto your shoulders, fucking into your g-spot hard and senseless. your mouth starting to sore from being opened due to your moan. “feels good after you fucking teased..huh?” he moaned out, you nodded your head. “use your goddamn words.” he slapped your ass, and you cried out. “y-yes e! feels so fucking amazing!” you said, he gripped your waist tighter. he kissed your neck, his tongue dragging across your skin, and your body felt incredibly full from his cock. “g-god i’m so close to cumming.” he said, you didn’t even answer.

you let your moans do most of the responses, he began sucking around your neck, taking his time marking you. your walls began to tighten at another round, but you were so tired and fucked out of your mind. your orgasm was coming in closer, the burning sensation causing you to sob out a moan. “oh fuck! oh fuck, fuck, fuck!” you screamed when he pushed himself into your g-spot again as you gushed around him. he moaned uncontrollably, cumming inside you, pulling away from your neck with a pop. he grunted jerking himself off getting the bits of cum to spill on your ass. you fell on your stomach, breathing heavily, heart fluttering.

he slapped your ass one more time, causing you to whimper. you turned around after a few seconds from the slap, “what about.. another round?” he said, your eyes widened while your brows furrowed. “a-are you crazy!” you said slapping his arm, he giggled. you laid down, trying to control your breathing. you closed your eyes for a moment as you were already falling asleep.

by the next morning, you felt a slight weight on your chest. the sounds of the doves calling out and the cars driving by made you gain consciousness back. “get off my boob..” you whined, your hand resting on his back, fingers running up and down. “your such a grumpy girl..” he said, you groaned smacking his back softly. you looked down at his eyes, you sighed softly. “you’re very pretty e..” you said, his eyes shot up to lock with yours. “y-you think so?” he spoke, fingers poking the side of your tit, you nodded. “you’re also a very smart boy, and you’re caring too..” you said quietly, his cheeks turning pink.

“are y-you confessing to me?” he said, you nodded your head. “yes you dork.. i enjoy every little moment with you..” you spoke, playing with his curls. he buried his face into your tits from embarrassment. “so.. what are we then?” he muffledly spoke out, and you giggled. “you’ll see later..”

[deathbyathousandspiders]

death of a hero. ₂

mcu!peter parker x fem!stark!reader | boy in the bubble part two.

IN WHICH after getting attacked, you find out that your dad & peter have kept spider–man’s identity a secret.

author's note — highly recommend reading part one first!! this cured my writer's block !! part three coming soon!!! :)

WARNINGS (18+ MDNI) — hurt reader [physically/emotionally], swearing, mentions of blood, a flashback to homecoming, lots & lots & lots of angst.

read part one | part three here.

gif found here.

✨masterlist.✨

3.4k.

Never in your life did you think you’d be targeted and attacked, then be smiling by the end of the night. You couldn’t fight the small grin touching your lips, couldn’t stop the butterflies that numbed each wound still scarring your body. 

Somehow, despite it all, Peter’s words gave you something to hold onto, something to keep you going—something hopeful. It gave you something to rewrite the painful narrative that your attacker had spat at you just an hour earlier. 

“What a weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark.”

“You’ve seen the unthinkable, are still going, and you think you’re weak? Impossible.”

Once you finally got to the stairs to shower, you tried to swing your leg up, immediately met with a harsh reminder of how bad your bruises would be tomorrow. 

A wince parted your lips, sparking from the ache in your right hip and the direct strike it sent to the wound on your torso. 

Perhaps you needed Peter’s help after all. 

Taking a breath, you felt less hesitant than before to ask for help. It wasn’t like you had anything else to hide—you were tattered and torn up, topless and sticky with blood. 

Besides, you were used to walking with the weight of the wounds, at this point. You cut the distance to the kitchen in a matter of slow seconds. 

“Whoever attacked her tonight planned this.” Peter’s words made you pause just outside the entryway, hidden behind the wall just beyond. You blinked a bit, immediately feeling the weight of their conversation. “It wasn’t by chance, she was targeted–” 

“You don’t know that—” Even as he cut Peter off, your dad’s response was cut short. 

“And you don’t either!” Both of the boys in the kitchen held something urgent to their words; the same sense of urgency that laced the undertones between them all evening. 

Whatever conversation you were overhearing, you knew in your bones that they didn’t want you to hear it. 

Sucks for them. 

Peter continued: “The way she’s acting.. Something’s off about what happened.” Your blood froze to ice at the sentence. “And I think she deserves to know why I wasn’t there to defend her tonight.”

Thick silence swelled in the room, and you suddenly feared that your racing heartbeat would interrupt it. You had to remind yourself to breathe, and remind yourself to be quiet. 

As tempted as you were to step in and ask questions, you knew that whatever they were keeping from you was more likely to be discovered from where you were. 

Somehow, this was something they wanted to hide from you. The secret, whatever it was, made the air around you feel slimmer and heavy all at once. It sent your thoughts into a spiral, and an urge to question the two people closest to you. 

“Look, kid. I don’t blame you for what happened tonight.” Tony took words from you that you hadn’t even known how to phrase to Peter yet. It sent a twinge to your heart, draped your panic in sympathy for him. 

“I know.” You could tell Peter needed to hear the words, even if he didn’t know how to admit it. 

“As much as I agree with your conspiracy theories on Y/N’s attacker, I don’t know if coming clean about everything will solve this.” 

Something sunk in you, deflated your spirits. It hurt that they’d hid this from you—whatever it was—and had been lying for God knows how long. 

You could hear the jab in Peter’s own optimism when he spoke up again. “Then when do you plan to tell her?” At least, he was trying to come clean. 

“I don’t know..” Your dad was honest, and sullen about it. It only added to your confusion. 

Perhaps, they weren’t going to tell you ever. Maybe if you just revealed yourself and asked your own questions, you’d actually get somewhere. 

Peeling yourself off the wall and taking a few steps into frame, both Peter and your dad were completely oblivious to you. 

Despite how you stepped into view, they remained focused on the conversation, and your dad continued. “I’ll tell you what: you tell me how you’d suggest telling Y/N you’re Spider–Man, and I’ll consider it–”

The whole world stopped moving. 

“Peter’s what?”

You could’ve thrown up at the realization, at how cold and hollow the room suddenly became. The secret was out, and the quick and wide eyes that fell to you told you just how vital this secret was. 

Peter was Spider–Man. 

Even as you stared at him, eyes as wide as his, you couldn’t shake it. Your best friend was Spider–Man, working alongside your father and found family. 

The two of you held eye contact, trying to read the other. You could read the remorse and apology and panic swelling in his wide–eyed stare, but you hoped that some of the anger building in your own was silently translated regardless. 

Your dad tried to clear his throat, tried to slice through the rousing tension between the two of you, but you didn’t break from it in the slightest. 

“Dinner’s ready.” Tony tried to make a joke. To joke at a time like this, as if he wasn’t an accomplice. As if he wasn’t keeping this from you, arguably more than Peter had been. 

It was the last straw you’d been offering, swiped from your hands and dissipating with your patience. 

You scoffed, tears finally finding your eyes. The heat of them was boiled by rage, and you didn’t have the decency to hide it. “Fuck off.” 

The room was too hard to stand in. You walked away, reminded of why you were even standing in the kitchen in the first place. 

Pain itched its way up your priority list, but you didn’t care; finding a way up the stairs was the least of your worries. You were more concerned with how quickly you could get away. 

Especially as you could hear Peter calling after you, following the path you were carving between you. 

“Y/N!” He spoke your name like a plea, like it would somehow apologize for all the dirt you’d uncovered. The sound of his voice, however, only seemed to drive you further from him. 

It split your heart into more pieces than you knew how to count. 

You already battled the insecurity of being weak. A weak, pathetic excuse for a Stark. With all the time you spent in the compound, with your friends and family, you were one of the only powerless people among them. This whole time, you thought Peter understood. 

You thought the insecurity was shared, reciprocated. 

Clearly, you were wrong and an idiot. You were the only one powerless among them. 

It made you feel so stupid; to see all the inside jokes tossed over your head, to see every stupid excuse he made thrown back in your face, and he had the audacity to be sorry?

Damn right, he should be. 

Peter’s touch felt like sandpaper to your skin as he reached for your hand. You yanked it out, not bothering to turn around. 

You tried to be strong and suck up the pain, wanted more than anything to run up the stairs and lock yourself in your room—two quick steps up the stairwell and the adrenaline wore off. You slowed your pace, fighting off the wincing, and wanting anything but to ask for help from Spider–Man. 

“Y/N, please.” His voice broke, and you felt sinister to think him deserving of it. “Please, I– I wanted to tell you, I promise–“

He must’ve been surprised when you turned around, at the speed you pivoted, at how intense your expression came across, because he startled. 

Your eyes held no response to the hot tears flooding from them, only holding space for the anger and hurt you didn’t have the energy to hide from him. 

“Promise?” The word came out whispered, threatening to break just as his words did. “You promise, just like how we promised to tell each other everything?” You saw each stab of each word and exactly where it hit on him, especially as your voice grew in volume. “Just like how you promised I wasn’t weak, when clearly, you know damn well how ironic that is!”

Twin tears slid down the length of his face, and you caught the subtle tremble in his bottom lip that he tried so hard to hide. “Please..” Now he was the one whispering, and you wish it sounded as satisfying as you wanted it to. 

“Don’t fucking sit there and act like you’re the hero here, Peter..” You couldn’t help the growl, couldn’t help the distaste inking down your body. Sure, you’d been hit with a knife just an hour prior in the evening, but you didn’t feel stabbed in the gut until now. “Don’t act like you understand shit about how I’m feeling right now!”

From just beyond, Tony started walking over, stepping quickly. “Hang on, Kid.” He cut in, stopping just a few paces behind Peter. “Don’t blame Peter for this.” His words practically turned up the heat on your burning rage. It was an effort to keep from boiling over. “I was the one who told him to keep quiet.”

The shakiest breath you’d taken all night forced its way down your throat. You finally pulled your eyes from Peter, watching your own father flinch at just how hurt you were. “No, you were the one who decided to be selfish!”

The room had never been so quiet, even the walls and the city beyond hushed to listen. 

“I don’t care who you thought you were saving here, but it wasn’t me.” Perhaps rage wasn’t the word you should use to describe the venom dripping off your words. You were seething, a mixture of betrayal and downright distraught. 

“I am not useless.” You felt the need to emphasize; to you, or the two faulty in front of you, no one could tell. “I may be the only powerless person in the fuck ass Avengers, but at least I’m fucking honest.”

When you met Peter’s eyes again, you almost couldn’t keep your composure. Maybe he was breaking apart just as quickly as you were, but you didn’t put in effort to hold room for an apology for him. You didn’t see the need to give one at all. 

“I’m sorry..” He couldn’t bring his voice above a whisper, above the tremble shaking each breath he took. And watching the way your father’s posture craned in sympathy to it finally gave you a cue to leave. You couldn’t take it anymore. 

You glanced between both of them, still ignoring the consistent stream of tears dripping off your nose and chin. “You both fucking should be.”

Holding your head high, you made your way up the stairs, pausing three steps up your trek when you heard a singular step in your direction. 

“Don’t fucking follow me.”

And you didn’t look back. 

The second you shut and locked your bedroom door, unshakable sobs spilled from your throat and choked you dry. You had never felt so isolated, so alone, and so pained. 

Truly, you did not know how it would get better from here, and all you wanted was to be held. 

You didn’t even know who you'd talk to about this. This betrayal stretched across every person you trusted, further than your eyesight. 

It was stupid, and you blamed yourself, but all you wanted to do was talk to Peter. 

Maybe not about it or to confront it right then, but you suddenly missed him and his support. You felt like that had been stripped away from you. 

You weren't sure how to trust him anymore, let alone anyone else who hid this from you.

It didn’t help that you replayed countless upon countless interactions—with your father, with Ned, and with Peter Parker Spider–Man himself. 

It reminded you of the last time you were mad at Peter, three years prior. 

At the Washington Monument. 

You remember him flaking on the academic decathlon, and flaking the night before. You were upset because he was obviously hiding something and he wouldn’t tell you what. 

“You promised we’d hang out tonight.” You remember calling after him, walking half the length of the hotel hallway after him, too. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all week!”

Peter was a pro at walking backwards, then and now, and as you always knew him to be. Even as you knew him as a klutz, even as it led him to keep walking away from you. “I’ll be back soon. I promise!”

It felt unfair to him to get frustrated with him, but you were. You were upset. “What? So your promises mean nothing?” 

That got him to stop. 

“What? No!” Defense, immediately. His eyes displayed more apology than his lips did, taking steps towards you. “I just.. I have to go, and I can explain it later–”

Your head shook at him. Whatever sparked you to feel upset had been growing for a while. It had been growing since he started ditching you a few months prior. “That’s what you said last time.” There was hurt in your voice, and you know he heard it. 

“But I–”

“We promised to tell each other everything.” You recalled your childhood together, your friendship before you started growing up. The two of you had known each other since elementary school, so changes like this was inevitable. It wasn't fair to hold him to the same standards you used to. “But if you want to go, don’t expect me to be buddy-buddy when you get back.”

You remember how it felt to walk away, but you remembered how it felt to hear him leave even more. That was harmful. 

He was entitled to grow up, just as you were, but the shifty way he started growing distant from you got you overthinking. 

It got you nervous that maybe he was seeing someone, and that hurt more than anything else. Especially that he was hiding it from you. 

What sucked the most was that Peter wasn’t back soon, or even that night. 

In fact, he wasn’t even at the academic decathlon. 

Part of you was relieved to get space from him, seeing how difficult all these feelings were to process; another part worried about him, but every time your anxiety would fester, something would serve a reminder of why you were upset in the first place. 

You won the decathlon without him. As you should.

After that, your team went to the Washington Monument, and Ned swore that Peter would meet you all there. 

“Look!” Ned tried to convince you, tried to break your unamused expression. “His location says he’s almost here.” And the phone screen he flashed at you proved honesty. Peter was minutes away. 

Before you could muster a response, Ned’s screen changed, and Peter was calling him. 

There was an awkward exchange of glances between the two of you before Ned answered the call and you walked through the metal detectors. 

“Peter, are you okay?” You couldn’t help but eavesdrop. You missed a phrase or two while security patted down your blazer. All you caught was Ned muttering a subtle “I covered for you,” and then Liz Allen taking the phone from his hands. 

Something hollow carved into your stomach at the sight, and you began to speculate whether Liz was the girl he was sneaking off with or not. 

You didn’t wait to find out. You walked right into the elevator, joining the rest of your decathlon group. 

You didn’t remember much about the trip up the elevator, all you remember was light emitting out of Ned’s backpack and something radioactive blasting right into the roof of the cart. 

Suddenly, with trembling limbs and a newfound panic, your squabble with Peter Parker seemed more than minuscule. Regret was quick to fill that hollowing pit in your gut. 

You’d blacked out a lot of those scarce moments in the elevator. But you remembered when it was safe enough to move, the security guard began to open the hatch at the top of the elevator cart, and one by one help your classmates out. 

It wasn’t until there were four of you left in the elevator that it finally fell down the shaft towards your demise. There, in that Monument, you would die with Ned, Liz, and your teacher, Mister Harrington, you were sure of it. 

You’d never forget the relief you’d felt at the sight of red and blue rushing toward you, plummeting quicker than you were, and webbing your way to safety. 

It felt odd to look back on, knowing now that it was Peter who pulled that elevator up to your safety. How you were only concerned then with apologizing to Peter Parker, who glanced at you there from beneath that mask, completely unbeknownst to you. 

Once he’d gotten you up to the top of the Monument, Ned was the first to leap out to safety, then Mister Harrington. The two of them helped Liz get out, and to your luck, just as you took a step forward, the webs above you snapped. 

You and Spider–Man fell with a blood curdling scream breaking through you. 

“NO!!” He called after you, and quickly shot a web up to the roof again. His other arm reached out toward you, webbing your wrist rather quickly, keeping you from falling any further. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay– I got you. You're okay..” He told you, his tone as gentle and soft as you knew it to be; yet, not a single thought crossed your mind that it was Peter Parker. 

You shakily dangled beneath him as he tugged you up from that web. You fought to look up at him, to keep yourself from looking down; you fought to keep the tears at bay as the shock flooded from your system. 

The second your hands touched, he pulled you up and into him. You wasted no time before wrapping your arms around him, hugging him for dear life. And it made sense, now, why he felt so familiar—why his warmth was so comforting, and why his arm around your waist felt like it belonged there. 

He held you securely, lulling those reassurances to you, pulling the two of you up to safety at the top of that Monument. 

Just before he set you down, you held him tighter. “Pe–Peter!” You gasped, and felt every muscle beneath your hold tense. 

Now, you knew why. 

You pulled back from his arms, “Peter Parker, my– my best friend! He was on his way over here.” Your voice shook as you explained, but watching him carefully set you on the ground helped to steady yourself a little. “Can you make sure– Could you make sure that he’s okay?”

Looking back, the reason why Spider–Man gaped at you so long must’ve been Peter contemplating whether or not to tell you who he was right then and there. He stared at you, beneath that mask, for what felt like minutes. 

He gave a singular, upside down, nod. “I can do that, ma’am.” And his thick, Bronx, accent threw you off more than you wanted to admit. 

Then he fell down the empty shaft of the elevator. 

You’d never forget the moment he found you after that. 

You had just gotten out of the Monument. With a shaky hand, you went through your phone to track Peter’s location. It said he was a matter of meters from you, but you couldn’t spot him in the crowd. 

Just as you went to ask Ned, Peter’s voice hollered out, calling your name. 

Both of you turned in his direction, the crowd of people parting for him as he ran over to you, catching you in a bone–crushing hug. One of his hands cradled your head into his chest, and the other kept itself snug around your waist, just like Spider–Man had earlier. "I'm so glad you're okay.." He whispered it into your hairline, just for you to keep.

The world washed away in the arms of Peter Parker. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him, too, hugging him effortlessly closer. Apologies from your argument the night before fell from your lips, and he also followed suit. 

You recalled that memory as something that defined how you and Peter operated—no matter what, you couldn’t stay mad at him. 

You would always find a way to forgive him. 

Now, remembering the incident was a bit more haunting. There was no telling how you and Peter would come back from this, nor just how long you’d go without each other.

And you didn't think Spider–Man would get you out of it, this time.

tag–list: @yourfavoritefangirl @inkedeye2345 @wxnterwidow333 @generalmoonpolice @elianamarie-blog

comment for the part three tag list;)

read part three here.

[husbandjoel]

don’t be tardy | tlou jesse

summary: jesse hates tardiness and you run late. you rub off on him and give him something to be late for.

pairing: jesse x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

trigger warnings: lil bit of bad language, jesse is kinda mean but not really, kissing, brief smut but not in great detail. reader doesn’t really take things seriously lmao

a/n: if me posting jesse fics keeps him alive i won’t ever stop 😤 love my diva. this is super choppy and short so i don’t expect enjoyment from it!

gif credit: @pedgito

      7:00am.

        You opened your eyes briefly to look at the red lights flickering on your alarm clock. The sun seeped in from between the thin, makeshift curtains, and you smiled into the duvet that covered you from neck to toe. For once, you felt serene, tranquility found in the Commune of Jackson. Survival a distant memory.

        You could do this forever.

        "Fuck!" Your eyes shot open, body upright as you read over the time once more.

        You were late. So fucking late.

You jumped into your clothes, swearing as you crashed into your cabinet when your foot got stuck in the leg of your pants. No time to fix your appearance, you slipped out of the front door, the profanities continuing to string along with you on your way to Main Street.

Feet pounded against the ground, wet mud flicked up behind you, chest heavy from panic when you managed to reach Main Street from your home in record timing. The building that held the Patrol meetings just adjacent to where you had skidded round the bend. Brass knob within your reach, you huffed as you grabbed and twisted it.

Door creaked to alert the compact group, you bared teeth as you cringed, boots tip-toed as best as you could above the old floorboards. As presumed, the meeting for morning Patrol had already started without you.

Familiar faces, Ellie and Dina, sat in amongst the older patrolmen, both offering a wave when you ducked your head in an attempt to conceal your lateness to Jesse who stood, arms crossed his chest, his eyes tracking you like prey for the taking.

"You're late." You winced at his deep tone.

Mottled hands from forgetting your gloves in a hurry, dragged the closest chair toward you. A concoction of embarrassment and shame crossed your face as eyes turned to you when Jesse spoke. Backside hitting the plastic chair, you felt the need to press your hands together; as if you were about to pray for his forgiveness.

OK. It wasn't near enough as good as an impression you could've made on your first patrol. It took months of arguments, pushing yourself to the limit and extra credit earned through mundane tasks that landed you the spot in the Jackson Patrol. And, now, you were late for your first meeting.

You had hoped it was Tommy or Joel Miller in charge. They'd have let it slide. You liked those brothers.

Jesse was your friend, if you could call someone you slept with on the regular, that. You met him by association of being relatively close to Ellie and Dina. He was a serious guy, little humour in duty-related situations, but you thought he was nice enough to engage in conversation with. And in turn, he showed you how nice he could be with your legs wrapped around his neck.

It was an added bonus that he was fun to look at.

You had wished he kept that momentum going when he stared you down, expectant of an explanation as to why you had tiptoed into the Patrol meeting.

"I'm sorry." You mustered.

Jesse puffed out, “Yeah—Sorry doesn’t cut it when you’re on duty. Thankfully, for you, your partnered with me. Otherwise, you would’ve cost us another Patrol member. A dip in our numbers, could mean we miss vital intel coming head-on to Jackson.”

“Alrigh’, she was late by minutes.” Joel Miller piped up from behind, “Give her a break.”

You didn’t dare move to mouth a ‘thank you’ to Joel. Mentally noted, you would buy him a drink at the Tipsy Bison later if Jesse hadn’t thrown you in jail for your tardiness.

Chairs creaked as people shifted awkwardly. Joel Miller was softened in his older years, but nobody dare speak out against him, especially Jesse — as much as undermining him set his internal anger ablaze.

“We’ll talk after.” He said. Which meant, we’ll talk when Joel Miller can’t defend you.

As he turned, you leant into Ellie, “Yeesh. Men are so touchy in Jackson.”

The meeting didn’t last long, or as long as you had hoped to avoid Jesse’s wrath in private. Every individual had an area to map out and scan to ensure there were no immediate threats to your Commune. There had been an increased sighting of the Infected in every direction, and this shook the infrastructure of Jackson. So, everybody was on high alert, observant of the grounds outside the confines of the walls.

You stood with the rest of the group, Ellie patted your shoulder for added sympathy for what you were about to face. She left you alone, head bumped with Dina as they spoke amongst themselves as the group bottle-necked at the entrance to the building.

An escape may have sufficed until you saw him later, but, that would’ve earned you an immediate dismissal from the Patrol Team and, you had a point to prove that you were worth the slot taken from others to maintain the safety of Jackson, Wyoming, whatever it took.

As the team filtered out, Jesse approached you with a mean-mug. No special chit-chat.

"Consider this a warning." Jesse was mad. Not the type of mad that would linger, but he had been on your side to convince Maria Miller that you were a good fit for the patrolmen. He didn't like his ass being shown.

You gawked, "A warning? Jesse, I thought we were friends—" You stopped following him when he turned sharply.

"—You want dismissed on your first day? If we weren't friends, that's where you would be. Shovelling horse shit and grovelling." He looked you up and down, "But, we are friends. So, you get a warning. Two more and I can't help you. Take your wins."

"OK." You kind of wished Joel stuck around to back you up. You twiddled your thumbs, reprimanded like a child. “Does this warning extend to tonight?”

You meant about having sex.

Jesse scanned his surroundings to ensure no eavesdropper had heard your invitation. He lowered his voice to a mumble, “No. Get to the stables.”

—

"You get the Appaloosa." Jesse informed when you reached the stables with the rest of the group.

You stopped in your tracks with your jaw slacked. There is one thing aside from the Cordyceps Outbreak that you loathed entirely and it was the Appaloosa stallion with a biting problem. Hoof battered against the stable door, the stallion whinnied in frustration from being contained — you presumed it craved human flesh.

He bucked when sat upon, you once going over the reigns and heavily winded when Jesse was showing you the ropes on how to properly guide a horse. After you had landed in the wet mud, the horse bit your arm for good measure.

That moment forward you both found enemies in each other.

Jesse was being cruel.

You followed Jesse to his selected horse, a gentle brown mare that liked you for your apples.

Throat cleared, Jesse turned to look at you innocently as you returned it with a plead, "Please don't make me ride that fucking Zombie—" You pointed to the stallion, "He has anger issues and, he's impossible to control."

Jesse threw the saddle over the mare and shrugged before swiftly straddling the horse, large hand smacked against the mare's neck as it stood grazing upon the hay in her stable.

"It's exposure therapy for you." He retaliated as he kicked the stirrups, his horse following the guidance with ease. He passed you slowly, a smile crept upon his face, "Teaches you how to deal with touchy men in Jackson."

He left you fighting the horse to get the saddle on its back, which in turn made you late to the gate with a grimace.

You had, surprisingly, survived the Patrol on Zombie, the Appaloosa. It seemed that you had breached through the stallion’s walls and managed to bribe him with soft-mints you stole from Jesse’s pocket when he scoped the land for any sign of an influx of Infected. In return for a mint after a handful of minutes apart, Zombie didn’t buck you off, or attempt to bite you despite your hand close to his mouth for the taking.

You returned to the stables, Jesse had taken the reigns of your horse, his private punishment over with as he guided it back into its area to rest. He came back, dusting his hands of the hay, a smile widened on his face.

“He didn’t kick you off.”

You threw him a petulant look, “Yeah. I know that broke your heart, you mean bastard.” Saddle in hand, you threw it onto the table, “And to think I was going to wrap my mouth—”

“—Enough.” Jesse warned.

“Sorry. Work hours.” You sighed at your brain’s disobedience to filter your mouth. From your peripheral, you saw Jesse shake his head in an attempt to hide his humour. You changed the subject, “Are you going to Maria Miller to debrief about the thirty dead?”

Jesse nodded.

“Can I come?” And he laughed. A genuine laugh in your face. If you weren’t on the receiving end, you may have begun to laugh with him because it was contagious for such a brooding man.

“No. You can’t” His laughter still sweet on his tongue, palm to his chest, “That’s called favouritism and we don’t need an uprising just because you’re pretty. Plus, I need to get there on time. Something you don’t know the meaning of.”

You blinked, “I’ve been on time.”

He spoke your name, “You have never been good at time-keeping. I’m pretty sure, Joel is still waiting for you for that one woodwork training session you organised last week—” Fuck! You knew you forgot about something, “It’s OK. I’ll keep us right for future events.”

Arms folded, you perked at his slip-up.

“Oh? There’s an us, now?” Stomach flipped, “I thought there was no blurring the lines, Captain Jesse.”

He said nothing more. Simply pecked your lips and exited the stables to his debrief with Maria Miller, and Tommy; they came as a package deal.

You went to go make amends with Joel before heading to Jesse’s for the night.

—

Jesse's workout chair had seen many workouts. It was sturdy, rattled a little when he was focussed on building muscle on his shoulders but all-in-all it was a good chair.

The bolt rattled at the base of the chair from the vigorous movement it was enduring. You were seated against the pleather, back hitting it with force as Jesse held your legs up by your ankles. Your knuckles were white from gripping onto the slim chair, mouth agape as Jesse continued his endeavour.

You hadn't meant to start this. It was a mere coincidence that you and Jesse were feeling some type of way the morning after you stayed for the first time, and you only encouraged it a smidge before caution was thrown to the wind and now, you were naked in Jesse's home, getting plowed on his workout chair.

"Oh my god." You whined which only spurred Jesse more.

He took both your ankles in one large palm, the other dove between your legs and your head hit the headrest, lids heavy as sweat followed the curve of your back. Jesse smirked at the vision he had created, the confidence built like a skyscraper in him for causing you that type of reaction.

        "Yeah?" He asked rhetorically and you nodded obediently. He went to open his mouth to let pure filth leave his tongue, only to jump from fright from the four knocks to his front door. His hips stuttered, "Shit. Hello?"

        "Jesse?" Ellie's voice called through the door and the pair of you looked to each other in panic. "I can't believe I'm about to say this—But—You're fucking late for patrol."

        Pinched brows, Jesse slowed his thrusts and craned his neck to look at the clock on his bedside table.

        Holy shit. Jesse was late.

        "Fuck—Yeah. Give me a minute."

        He unsheathed himself from you, a finger pressed to his lips when Ellie tried the door handle — both of you grateful that it was locked. Jesse threw his shirt on haphazardly, frustration shown in his hand gestures as he stumbled around the room, his patrol clothes unprepared which, again, was out of character.

        You stood from the chair, feet tiptoed to the door to grab his boots to unlace for him. Eyes squeezed shut, you could hear Ellie muttering to herself as she stomped the snow on her boots against the concrete of the steps. Jesse met you halfway, fully clothed compared to your bareness, a 'thank you' mouthed your way when he took the boots from your hands.

        "Will you hurry the fuck up?" Ellie called.

        Jesse swore under his breath, "Ellie, have a little patience."

        You and Ellie managed to scoff at the same time. A playful pinch to your budded nipple as retaliation, you swatted at his hand before he pulled you in for a chaste kiss.

        "See you later." He mumbled into your mouth, his willpower almost folded from feeling the hotness of your bare skin.

        "Mhm." You whispered. Quiet enough that Ellie wouldn't hear, "You deserve the Appaloosa today."