#his ass got SKULKED

[alloycord]

aw hell nah they skulkied the bear enjoyer

[themultifanshipper]

quiet innocent reader x Lando 👀 like Lando finds out reader has a degradation kink and he teases her about it saying she can moan louder than that

Lando hadn't meant to snoop around, honest. But the open tab on your computer labelled “Filthy whore gets…” was too tempting to not take a look.

Warnings: smut, degrading, innocent!reader, except reader is secretly a whore, Lando being a bit feral, slight exhibitionism?

“Filthy whore gets what she deserves after being a bad girl”

Lando wasn't quite sure what he was looking at. The fact that the tab was open on your browser meant that you had definitely seen it and not deleted it. But you didn’t seem to be the type to watch porn, much less this kind of depraved stuff. He was also pretty sure you didn't pleasure yourself when he wasn't around. Was it some form of research?

He decided to check your browser history (he was curious, sue him) to see if there was any more.

And boy he was not disappointed.

Slut gets dominated and spanked by boyfriend.

Tied up and degraded until she comes.

Fucking her in the office with my coworkers next door.

Fucking and teasing hungry little cock whore until she cries-

That one made Lando's cock twitch and he had to stop before he got a bit too excited.

Surely you hadn't been getting off to these, right?

Lando didn’t know what to think, but one thing was for sure: if you didn't want to talk about it, he wasn’t going to mention it.

Well it's the sentiment that counts anyway, because that resolution lasted exactly two days.

It was a race weekend and you'd found yourself in his driver's room the morning before the race. And he was shocked (but turned on) by your unusual behaviour.

You'd never done anything remotely sexual outside of the bedroom, being very shy and quiet in public, so this was a welcome surprise.

You'd all but jumped on Lando as soon as he walked in and you were currently sitting on his lap, squirming around while he tried to get your clothes off.

“Baby you're moving around too much, if you don't stop squirming I'm going to have to punish you”

He meant it jokingly, but the shudder that ran through your body was enough to make him gasp and hold your hips tighter.

You didn't want to look at him, embarrassed by what he might think of you if he found out that that was exactly what you wanted.

“Baby, does… does that turn you on?” he asked teasingly, you avoided his gaze and picked at the edge of your skirt.

He chuckled, leaning in close to your ear “Would it turn you on if I punished you for being a bad girl?”

You bit your lip, still refusing to look at him.

“I wonder what kind of punishment you'd respond to… should I tie you up?”

You closed your eyes. The image of Lando tying your wrists behind your back and having his way with you flashed in your mind.

“Or perhaps you'd prefer to be spanked raw…”

His hands made their way to your ass and squeezed before one came up to lift your head.

“Because apparently…” he started, searching your eyes for any discomfort “you like that sort of thing”

It suddenly hit you and your eyes widened. Your computer, fuck. Lando saw comprehension dawn in your eyes and he smiled devilishly.

You didn't know what to say, so Lando continued.

“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, huh? You could have just told me you were curious instead of skulking around the internet”

His thumb brushed your lower lip and you blushed as you opened your mouth.

He slid his thumb inside and rubbed it over your tongue, making you keen.

“Fuck baby, I had no idea.” His other hand went under your skirt to ghost over the lace of your panties, which were embarrassingly, already soaked.

“All this time I thought you were a sweet little thing, but it turns out you're just a pathetic slut”

You moaned around his thumb and bucked against his fingers. He smirked.

“See? You're already dripping and I've barely touched you”

The intensity of his gaze made you whimper and he chuckled.

“You want me to fuck you baby?”

You nodded pathetically and rolled your hips against his.

“Well too bad, I think sluts like you need to earn it. So sit on my thigh and get yourself off for me, yeah?”

His tone was almost disinterested and it would have made you combust on the spot had you not been so eager to please.

You quickly straddled one of his strong thighs and moved yourself on it.

It didn't take you long to find a rhythm and pressure that felt good, and you took one of his hands to slide two of his fingers into your mouth to suck on.

He groaned and stared as your hips stuttered and he slid a third finger in your mouth before thrusting them in and out gently.

You felt so overwhelmed, tears started forming in your eyes and your incapacity to close your mouth meant that drool was starting to run down your chin and onto your chest.

You took Lando's other hand and placed it around your neck, instructing him to squeeze as your thighs started to tremble with the effort.

You were soon nearing your peak, tears and mascara staining your cheeks, drool everywhere, and slick covering Lando's thigh.

You looked like sin personified.

Lando could have come just from the sight of you.

“God you're so filthy. My filthy little whore aren't you?”

Your whine was muffled by his fingers as you came, drenching his thigh and almost choking around his fingers as you rode it out slowly.

Lando couldn't believe what he was seeing.

What on earth had happened to his sweet innocent girlfriend?

You wasted no time clambering off him and going to unbuckle his belt before he stopped you.

“So impatient, baby. What's gotten into you? You so desperate for cock that you're willing to whore yourself out where anyone could walk by and hear you?”

You gasped at his words and your knees almost buckled.

Your brain was clouded with need and all you could think of was getting Lando inside you as fast as possible.

“Lando, please, I need you. Fuck I need you so bad.”

He growled and picked you up to turn you over and pin you to the couch.

“You have no idea what you're doing to me, baby, fuck-”

You whined and pawed at his shirt, begging him to take it off, which he did in one swift movement. And his pants quickly followed.

He was so hard it was actually starting to hurt and he hissed as he finally got a hand around himself.

“God, you're driving me crazy baby.” He said, lining himself up with your drenched hole and slid halfway in.

He let out a loud moan, you were so hot and tight around him he knew he wasn't going to last long inside you.

You were just as gone as he was though, and you hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him in, making him choke out a whine.

He grabbed your hips and slammed into you repeatedly, your hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders.

“So fucking insatiable… you're gonna come on my cock like a good little slut, and then I'm going to fill you up like you fucking deserve”

You clenched around him and let out a quiet whine.

“Oh you want that? You want my come dripping out of you while you watch me race? Want me to make you mine? Make you walk around the paddock full of me?”

You moaned weakly and he chuckled.

“Oh baby have you lost your voice? I know you can be louder than that. Oscar's probably next door, why don't you let him know exactly who this pussy belongs to.”

“Yes!” you moaned as he nailed your g-spot.

“Say my name”

“Lando” You gasped and his hand went to rub tight circles on your clit.

“Louder”

“Lando!” you moaned loudly, you were so close you could feel your thighs clenching and your back arching.

“You're my fucking whore, and I want everyone in this building to know it. Say my fucking name”

“Land- OH!” you screamed as euphoria took over your body.

You writhed in Lando's hold as he kept pounding into you, forcing you to take all of him, finally spilling into you with a loud growl.

Colours were swirling behind your eyelids and you swore your body had never felt so loose… you were definitely doing this again.

Lando's hands stroked your thighs tenderly as you both lay there catching your breath, when you turned your head and caught sight of the window.

The open window.

Oh my god.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

Warnings: smut, masterbation, send nudes, quick mention of breeding

Sequel to: Think of Me When You Cum Later

Almost an entire day passed without a word from you. Smug as he could fucking be, Simon was certain that it had everything to do with his little impromptu video he sent keeping your hands far to busy to type and God did that fuel him with a new secret passion; perhaps he’d have to send you another before he got back, just to be sure that you were a complete goddamn mess for him when you came to pick him up from base.

If he was really lucky and did his job right you’d have to pull over on the ride home just so he could fuck your brains out in the back seat of your car, so needy you wouldn’t be able to wait the short ride back to his place. You’d both have those window panes fogged up real fucking quick.

But there was one thing the self-assured military man forgot about and that was that you were never one to let him go empty handed. The moment Simon had sent his bit of personal porn for your enjoyment, he should have known that you would not want him to miss out on something special for himself; he needed to see with his own two eyes just how much you needed him. And since he had only made that ache worse for you, he had to have a bit of it back.

It was only fair after all.

So eventually once you were able to clear your head and calm your raging heartbeat, you got to work plotting. It had to be a cinematic masterpiece, something so good that he would definitely have to save for private viewings over and over again whenever he was away; you never did anything half-assed and since it was for him it had to be perfect.

The day had been uneventful and that gave ample time for Simon’s devious mind to wander back to you, wondering how many times you’d viewed that spicy clip and how absolutely soaked your panties were from it. Something about the silence from his phone only led him to fantasize about you being nothing more than a puddle in the middle of his bed, legs shaking from how many times you’d cum.

God, to be a fly on the wall he would have given anything.

BZZ…BZZ…

As if prompted by his thoughts alone, his phone buzzed to life as he sat in his bunk wiling away the hours until sleep finally decided to take over. He pulled small rectangle out of his bag that lay beside his bed with a cocky grin plastered to his lips, ready to read the long string of texts about how his distraction was more than satisfactory. The older phone that Simon liked to take into the field didn’t allow him to preview messages before he opened them, so he had no idea what awaited inside until he clicked the icon; his jaw nearly hit the floor and he had to immediately look around him to make sure that there was no one skulking about that could possibly catch a glimpse of his screen.

This was for him and him alone.

It was a picture… not what he was expecting, but he should have known better after his little stunt that you were bound to do something like this. The message directly underneath it read: “Shit, baby, I can’t seem to stop watching your video. Look what you’re doing to me.”

Nearly choking on his saliva, his heart stopped and forcefully restarted in his chest at the glory of image before his eyes. Goddamn he could not pull his sight away; you had to have gone to a lot of trouble to set this all up, but fuck was it worth it just so that he could see you like this.

There you were spread eagle across his bed, completely naked save for the singular hair tie dangling from your wrist that had become a staple of your everyday attire. Your hand was precisely placed between your thighs, fingers clearly buried in that juicy cunt of yours. Head fallen back, presumably eyes shut tight, tits up with your nipples hard, goddamn you were the prettiest fucking picture he had ever fucking seen.

He was falling head over heels all over again.

The pressure of his cock straining harshly against the zipper of his pants became incredibly painful all of a sudden and he rushed to undo the restraining fabric in a hurry; such a visceral effect that you always seemed to produce in him no matter how many times he saw you bare. Pulling the waistband open he lay there with nothing but his boxers to keep him covered.

It had been a long minute since your body was available for his viewing pleasure and he sucked every last drop of that photo down, transfixed as if he had been put under hypnosis. Eyes scanning every inch of that tiny picture glaring back at him through the darkness, the ache in his chest grew as did the heat so that even though his shirt was off he was still boiling to the touch; fuck he needed you so bad it was agony. There was no lie when Simon had said he was desperate to make you cum, he would give anything to feel you writhe beneath him right now, body burning as he put all his focus into making you slip over the edge as many times as humanly possibly.

Whatever he had to do, whatever sin he had to commit that would get him to you fast enough, he would in an instant just to ride straight to hell between those luscious thighs.

Satisfying your temptation was worth the damnation.

How much time had passed since he become consumed by your image he didn’t know, but now there was something on his phone that was beginning to download. His heartbeat pounded loudly in his ears as he waited on baited breath, barely moving a muscle in anticipation for whatever it was you had sent him. Auburn eyes were boring holes into his phone as he watched that slow fucking progress bar inch its way forward at a turtles pace; Christ, it was going to make him drop dead from the excited expectation of what was to come once it was done.

BZZ... BZZ…

Finally, after what felt like a fucking eternity, the damned thing was finished and ready for him. A video was what waited for his viewing pleasure, slightly longer than the one he had sent the night before. With shaky, unsteady hands Simon dived head first for his headphones in his bag without a second thought, nearly ripping the canvas apart trying to pry them out as fast as his hands would allow. Shoving the buds into his ears as his pulse raced through his veins, he pushed play...

And his blood pressure shot through the goddamn roof.

“Ahh, Simon…” your breathy moan hit his ears first and his brain flat-lined as he nearly came just from just the sound of your sweet tone calling out his name. How long had it been since he had heard you mewling his name in the throws of passion? So damn long it should have been a crime.

The way you had the camera set up he could see it all, the perfect goddamn angle as if he were sitting in the room with you, watching as you touched yourself. Why the ever loving fuck could he not reach through the screen and get to you? That was the worst part of it all; he desperately needed to be the one to make you produce all those pretty sounds.

“Fuck, Simon, I miss you so much,” you continued, your body jerking as your fingers continued to dance around your clit, your toes curling around the sheets. “I’ve been so empty it hurts… need you to fill me full again baby. Reach that ache deep inside that I can’t seem to get. It’s only getting worse without you.”

Simon’s cock throbbed forcefully, pressing harshly against his lower abdomen as the video continued to play; it felt as if he might burst just from the sudden rush of blood to that beastly appendage. Swallowing down a stray groan that threatened to escape his lips and give him away, he nearly gagged on it just to keep it down, but fuck did he want to let loose. He was being consumed by his desire: skin on fire, eyes transfixed on your gorgeous rocking form, mouth agape as he breathed heavy, he took a hold of his engorged member and pulled it free from his boxers before he began to stroke the length; there was no way he could sit here and watch you like this without touching himself.

Back on the screen, your legs were jerking sporadically as you pictured Simon there with you, pumping in and out of you with all that he had. “Need your fat fucking cock to stretch me out good,” you whimpered pathetically, using all that pent up frustration to aid in your performance; it was torment. “Oh God baby, I need it so bad…can’t take it.”

Fuck it hurt to hear your need and not be able to do a damned thing about it right then and there. He swore to himself that by the time he finally got his hand around those curves he was gonna fill you so full that your pussy wouldn't know what to do without him inside you.

Simon hissed under his breath as his grip tightened around his dripping, aching cock, rapid strokes gaining speed so as to perfectly match your rhythm just so that he could trick his brain into imagining himself pumping in and out of your tight, wet cunt. It paled in comparison to the real thing because there was no replicating how you felt wrapped around him, but it would do for now. Together you both worked yourselves on opposite sides of the screen, just trying your hardest to ease the torturous longing.…as if fucking each other across the space between you.

You were completely losing yourself in the moment, unable to hold back all those needs that had been put aside as he was gone. The image of Simon touching himself to the thought of you, his words sounding so desperate, played over in your mind as you worked yourself and you could not stop the way it made you feel, the yearning need for him to completely and utterly wreck your body to the point that even the idea of being with anyone else would never be able to come close to what he could give.

“Shit Simon, I want…

I want…" you had to say it, it was gonna come out anyway…

"I want you to breed me,” you said stammered out the plea as your free hand massaged over your breasts. That warmth was building, rising in the pit of your stomach as you said those forbidden words aloud. “I need you to breed me good Simon, make sure I’m ruined for anyone else. Oh God, please, baby. I need it, I need you.”

Christ that was his fucking kryptonite, his Achilles heel, the one thing is the whole wide world that could stop him dead in his tracks and bring him to his proverbial knees. The minute those delicious words exited your mouth, there was no stopping his ecstasy from overwhelming him to the point that he could he was gone.

Oh he was gonna make sure that sweet little cunt had his name written all fucking over it.

Nope that was it, what little straggling bit of sanity he had left had flown and he could not hold back the pressure any longer from reaching its peak and violently throwing him off the ledge. With a strenuous grunt that echoed in his chest and a few hard tuggs up and down his shaft he came with such force that his body shook his entire cot as he stroked out every last bit of milky white fluid from the tip. His cum coating his lower abdomen, getting caught in the sparse bit of hair the covered the area was making a mess, but he didn’t care; the euphoria currently surging through his veins like electricity clouded any negative thoughts.

The sound of your orgasm your mewls as your rocketed through you played into his ears, the perfect soundtrack to finish out the rest of his own pleasure. You fell back against the mattress, chest heaving with exhausted breaths as your legs shook and relaxed stretched out as the video finished.

Fuck, he was gonna need a cigarette after that, his body still vibrating with the sheer intensity of it all.

BZZ…BZZ…

The phone vibrated one last time, a final text to send him off into the night.

“I hope it was just as good for you as it was for me,” it said, followed by a sneaky winky face. “Sleep tight.”

If he thought he was missing you before, but that was nothing compared to now. It was overwhelming the need he had to have you making those sounds for him again. You had better be ready to getting the car cleaned and detailed because there was no way you weren’t going to be pinned down in the back seat after that one…because you had just made that ache so much worse.

Part 3:

[rinhaler]

I know you have a bunch of requests even if your requests are closed BUT BUTTTTT what about playing fighting with plug! sukuna, i love him and he's evil i just knoww it would lead into super hot sex

if you are ever willing to elaborate i would love to read it, but don't feel pressure and take your time, thank you🥺

ohhhhhh i really got carried away ive missed his toxic ass i love plug!sukuna so much and he loves US 🥹

warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, cheating, manhandling, size difference, biting, slight pining, ass eating (fem!receiving), spanking, degradation, fingering, vaginal sex, pet names (princess, sweetheart), calls your pussy 'she/her', pull out method, slight cock-sucking, hair pulling, he slaps u 🫶🏽

words: 1.4k

Sukuna lives to torment you.

It’s the only thing that makes any semblance of sense when he emerges from his own bedroom to skulk into the living room. You’re watching YouTube videos in there while you wait for Yuuji to come home from work. It’s not like you’ve really been watching them, it’s more background noise while you play on your phone.

It’s a little odd how the videos are auto-playing reviews of different movies you’ve watched recently.

You jump when you feel his presence behind you. A disgusting, burly clearing of his throat as he reaches over you enough for you to feel skin to skin contact and snatch the remote. He jumps over the back of the couch, legs spreading wide as he backs out of the video you had playing.

“I was watching that.” you tell him.

“No, you weren’t.” he objects. “You’re on your phone.”

“I’m multi-tasking.” you lean closer to him to take the remote back, but you’re left at a loss for words as he holds it out of your reach. “Give it to me.”

“No.” he smirks. “You just sit there and carry on playing…” he squints his eyes as he peers over at your phone to see what’s on the screen, laughing immediately after. “Project Makeover? Really?”

You lunge across couch in a bid to grab the remote from him again, having no interest in listening to whatever he considers entertainment while you’re waiting patiently for Yuuji. He retaliates when you get a little too close for comfort.

A yelp escapes as he grabs your waist, moving you with ease until you’re sat on the sofa properly again. His cheek touches yours as he whispers in your ear.

“Enough.”

Your brows furrow and you attack again, a little surprised to see him throw the remote across the room once he picks a channel to watch. You try to run after it, but he quickly brings you onto his lap, holding your wrists in the small of his back as he looks up at you.

“I said, enough. Are you going to behave?” he asks, and you nod.

He lets go, but he knew there was a defiant expression in your eyes as you nodded. You leap up from his lap and attempt to run over to the remote, only to hear him hot on your heels. You bend over to grab it, laughing when you’re thwarted as he grabs your wrist.

“Sukuna,” you laugh loudly as you try to wriggle free from his grip. “Go in your own room and watch your shit.”

“I wanna watch it in here.” he tells, grabbing your other wrist when you try to pry his fingers away. He smiles as he watches you struggle to gain freedom, doing nothing more than moving your arms back and forth in hopes that he’ll free you. “Why don’t you go to Yuuji’s room?”

“I was here first!” you remind him, “And I’m waiting for him to come home.”

You continue to fight him, spinning around until your wrists slip from his palms. He watches you scramble towards the remote once again, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you back towards the centre of the room.

“Stop it or I’m gonna make you scream.” he warns you.

“You’re so full of yourself. I’m not fucking y— aah!” you scream as his fingers tickle into your sides. He didn’t realise how well it would actually work, but you’re shrieking like you’re being murdered.

He lets up when he worries about the neighbours reporting the attempt on your life to the police, still poking and prodding at your hips until you’re a giggling mess. His breath is heavy on your neck as you kick back at him and writhe against his hold.

You hunch over when your stomach begins to hurt, and his body grows tired of fighting you, too. Your strength weakens until you’re both kneeling on the ground with him behind you.

Immediately your lips are on his as you look over your shoulder. You moan into his mouth as he gropes your chest.

“Fuck.” you sigh, breathily, before he shoves you onto all fours, kissing along the column of your spine. You gasp as his fingers hook into your beach shorts, slowly peeling them down to reveal your bare cunt, glittery and pulsating with a desperation to be filled.

“Thought you weren’t gonna fuck me?” he growls, teeth nipping against your ass as he bites softly before he licks over the shallow indentations. You inhale sharply as he kisses further and further towards your ass. You know what he’s about to do and you don’t want him to. He’s such a fucking tease. You’ve never done this with anyone before, but he wraps his arm around your waist to keep you still as his tongue licks over your ass.

He truly lives to torment you.

“Squirming for me, pretending you don’t like it,” he mutters, continuing to swipe over your puckered hole. He surprises you with the occasional attentiveness of a kiss against it, almost like he’s forgetting who you belong to. “Dirty girl.”

You don’t care enough to cover your mouth, knowing Sukuna would pin your arms in place regardless. He likes to hear you. He loves to run the risk of you getting caught. The thought of Yuuji wandering in and seeing him play with his girlfriend is enough to make his cock ache. But it’s very possible, now.

Your eyes roll over white as he slips two fingers into your squelching cunt, still laving over your ass until your body convulses.

“Did you just fucking cum?” he teases you, spanking your ass and smearing your slick all over your cheek. “You really are a nasty little slut, aren’t you? Just for me, though.”

“S-Shut up and fuck me already.” you tell him. You yelp when he slaps your ass once again, but he doesn’t respond. He knows all he needs to do to shut you up is fill you with his length.

You wince as his thick length splits you open, and he moans almost pathetically at the sight of your soft pussy lips swallowing him up.

“I love this cunt, princess.” he reminds you. He presses the side of your face against the floor roughly to keep you in place. You see him out of the corner of your eye, sweating and panting like a wild animal. “Does Yuuji even make you cum anymore? Trained her to be perfect for me.”

“H-He makes me c-um.” you argue. “I l-love him!”

“Uh-huh.” he snarls, fucking you with more fervour than before. “Sweetheart… you can’t love him that much if you’re on my cock again.”

“Shut up,” you bite back, reaching behind you to slap him or punch him or something. But you know him well enough, now. Your arm is pressed firmly into the small of your back, used for more leverage as her fucking ruins you. “There! Su-Sukuna, right there!” you cry.

“Unnfff—” he growls, his hips bruising against your thighs. “Can I cum inside?” he asks, tone a little softer he asks. There’s a level of desperation that’s almost pathetic in it, but you don’t notice. Not when you’re already choking his cock.

“N-No!” you warn him.

It’s almost too late, he begins to spurt inside but pulls out quick enough to shoot sticky globs of white directly on your pussy lips. You shudder as the warm load hits you, hole body twitching and clenching as you desperately long to be filled with his cock and his seed.

“W-Wait!” you object as he pulls up your shorts. The material clings to your body as the cum melds into the fibres. “Ew…” you sigh.

He pulls you up by your wrist onto your knees, roughly tugging your jaw until your mouth widens for him.

“Clean my cock off, bitch.” he commands you. Red eyes leer at you as you do as you’re told. You suck and spit over his cock as you clean up the mess your pussy made of him. The slurping is obscene. It’s nearly enough to resurrect his softening length.

His mouth opens to speak, eyes looking down at you gently. He must see the same look in your eye, clearing his throat before his look becomes stern once again. He yanks you away from his cock by your hair, pulling at the roots before slapping you across the face.

“Clean yourself up.” he scowls, looking over his shoulder as he hears the front door open. He smirks, tucking himself back in his sweats before leaving the scene. “Until next time, princess.”

© 2024 rinhaler

[wannaeatramyeon]

Seong Taehoon x Reader: A humbling punch to the face

G/N. Soft, lil silly. Masterlists

You had always thought that Taehoon was someone who needed a good punch to the face.

Until you saw him sparring with his dad, and then you wondered if he was kicked too many times in the head growing up and that's why he is how he is.

Hansu denied this though, the one time you asked, chuckled then blamed Taehoon's mother for his disposition. Told you that's where he got his personality and attitude.

"Didn't you get into any trouble when you were younger, Mr. Seong?"

You didn't get an answer. Just a grimace before you were shooed away because Hansu suddenly remembered he had things to do.

You, however, have never been kicked in the face or been in a fight. You're not sure you would fare well, not that you're keen on finding out. And you would like to keep it that way too, despite the amount of times Taehoon threatens you.

"You want to die?"

"I'll kick your ass."

"Do you want me to beat you up?"

Occasionally, you would feel a bit too mouthy and delusional and respond with, "Yeah, what you gonna do?"

The few times you were really pissing him off, he had glared at you, muttering profanities under his breath and skulked off.

Usually though, you would receive a few harsh flicks to your forehead or cheek pulls for your trouble.

You could never defend yourself against Taehoon. There was no chance. You flailed and squirmed to no avail, and once Taehoon was sufficiently entertained with your antics, you might be rewarded with a kiss, accompanied by "dumbass".

In the better moments, the ones you think most fondly back on, he would pin you down, calling you a brat and leave you panting and breathless beneath him.

But his reality check comes not with a punch to the face, but when you're the one that flicks him harshly on the forehead.

An unexpected pain that causes Taehoon to flinch and spill his snacks all over your bedding.

"You need to look after yourself," you tell him, your worry and fears coming out short and angry.

First he was hospitalised due to Seongjun, and now because of Jinho. It's only been days since he's been discharged and you haven't left his side.

Taehoon sees the stress on your face, the bags under your eyes.

"Shut up," he tells you, dragging you close, trapping your body beneath his as he nips at your earlobes for your insolence.

With Taehoon, what you want, you always get. He’d hand you the world on a silver platter with only a minor grumble. And if you want him to be careful, for you, he will at least try.

[princessbrunette]

mean brother’s bsf ! rafe who says he has to go to the bathroom while he’s over at your house playing video games w ur brother but instead walks to ur room and starts fucking u :((

𓍢ִ໋🪷˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝🦢

you can always hear the group of them — rowdy and loud, yelling at the tv whilst they play the game, or watch some kind of sport that you yourself had no interest in. you had no idea why your brother refused to ever close his door, especially when he had friends round— they were so damn loud.

you hear rafes voice in the hallway and it makes your heart rate spike, your brothers friend calling something into the room as he leaves it, the boys exploding into laughter. you wondered if he’d stop by today, like he did every time — or if he’d pass you by and act like you don’t exist, something he has also demonstrated he is capable of doing when your brothers around.

it had happened only earlier, coming home from your pilates class in your cute little get up which usually you knew rafe would be all over— the boy stood in the kitchen, chatting to your brother when you arrived home.

“hi!” you chirp politely, happy to see him there, knowing what it meant for you. rafe barely glanced— offering you a “hey.” before continuing on his conversation. you couldn’t help but let your face fall. you knew he couldn’t give you much attention infront of your big brother, not wanting to draw suspicion— but just a hey was rude, impolite even.

you hear your door creak open and you don’t turn to look, playing nonchalant as you lay on your stomach on your bed, flipping through a book. he’s careful to close the door again, taking in the sight of you laying there, more importantly the sight of your ass cheeks spilling from your pyjama shorts.

“did you miss me?” he drawls, taking a step closer and you spare a glance over your shoulder, playing like you didn’t.

“oh, hey.” you repeat his greeting from earlier boredly. it was petty, sure— but unfortunately, you were crazy about rafe. you wanted him to know you were a little peeved.

“that all i get, hey?” he sounds amused, dumb and part-lipped as he steps a little closer, fingers tickling your ankle which makes your leg jerk out, nearly kicking him.

“well that’s all i got earlier.” you flip a page, pretending to be totally disinterested in the conversation. you hear him still, breathing as he tries to recollect the moment.

“i dont — i-i don’t understand. what’s this about?” he asks, already irritated with the way you aren’t turning around to look at him. you sigh, sitting up and spinning around to face him. he didn’t get to be mad, best to nip it in the bud.

“i said hi to you and you acted like you didn’t even know me.” you pout immaturely, running your fingers along the bed to avoid his eyes. his eyes widen, hands spreading at his side in incredulity.

“your brother was there. fuck you expect, me to stick my tongue down your throat and slide a finger in your ass whilst he’s just standing there? i — i don’t —”

“no! just… you didn’t even look at me.” you sigh and he drops his hands, skulking over to stand right over you at the edge of the bed. he places his large hands on your cheeks, lifting your sulky gaze to his.

“‘cus if i did, id probably get all riled up… you don’t want that, right? infront of big bro?” he softens, but there’s something conniving about his tone.

“no.” you sigh and he nods in approval.

“right. i just had to play it cool. yeah?” he clarified slowly, like you’re a little dumb.

you blink up at him, and he gives in, bending down to press his lips to yours, the familiar taste of his tongue integrating into your mouth as you hum, visibly relaxing into the kiss.

“i did miss you.” you whisper, and he prods at your shoulder to encourage you to lie back.

“and i told everyone i had to take a phone call outside, so we haven’t got long… you wanna take these shorts off for me or am i gonna have to rip ‘em off like last time n’have you cryin’ at me again?”

five minutes in, and it’s increasingly harder to stay quiet. he’s mounted you, an obscene and degrading sight for anyone that would accidentally stumble upon it. your legs were up by his shoulders, cock nestled deep inside you as presses his lips together, stifling the little breathy groans from the back of his throat.

“m—my bed, its creaking!” you mewl, cunt tightening when he slides a large hand up the back of your thigh to the crevice of your knee, keeping it raised.

“those suckers aren’t listening. stop— stop thinkin’ bout that, yeah? look at me. focus on me.”

𓍢ִ໋🪷˚*ੈ♡⸝⸝🦢

[miasmaghoul]

I wish you would write a fic where Swiss and Aether are talking about their mutual crush on Rain and they get. Uh. Carried away with it. Together. You feel me?

"Pretty, isn't he?"

Swiss jumps at the low voice in his ear, bumping into the equipment case he's been skulking behind. Aether grins at him, that one gilded fang glimmering in the harsh light of their rehearsal space. He chuckles, bumps his fist against Aether's chest, and goes right back to ogling their newest addition through a gap in the cases.

"Hadn't noticed," he lies, and lets out a soft chuckle when he feels Aether slot himself behind him. Hands on his hips, stubbled chin on his shoulder, Swiss just has to reach up and give his hair a ruffle. "He's good."

"You sound surprised." Aether rubs their cheeks together. "Dew and Mist are the ones teaching him, I'd be more surprised if he wasn't good."

Swiss snorts, shrugs his concession, but he can't take his eyes off the ghoul on the other side of the room.

It's been a while since practice ended, but Rain had been adamant about staying behind. He's been working on a handful of different runs, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of Mountain's kit and plucking away at his strings with fingers that haunt Swiss' dreams.

"Saw him at the lake the other day," Swiss mumbles, absently tipping his neck when Aether noses at it. Rain shakes his head then, tosses inky curls out of his eyes, and Swiss recalls the way they clung to the back of his neck when Rain climbed up onto the dock. The way streams of water cascaded down his surprisingly muscular back, sparkling in the sun. "That was...something."

"I'm sure it was," Aether replies, low and amused. He gives Swiss' ear a playful nip. "Water ghouls are made to be wet, after all."

"Tell me about it," Swiss murmurs, sighing when Aether's arm slips around his waist. He doesn't lean back intentionally, but it's impossible not to. "Haven't been able to stop thinkin' about it."

"Did you say hello?" Aether's other hand strokes Swiss' flank, dragging his t-shirt up to expose the band of his sweatpants. "Or did you just watch like this?"

"Watched," Swiss replies, unfazed by the way Aether's careful touches drift under his shirt. No point in lying, and he's too distracted by Rain fingering his E string to try anyway. "Couldn't help it. There's just -"

"Something about him?" Aether finishes for him, a thumb hooking into Swiss' waistband. Swiss nods, licks his lips when Rain reaches for his bottle of water. The way his throat works as he swallows certainly shouldn't make Swiss' cock twitch, but alas.

He shifts his stace just a hair, but it's enough for him to feel Aether's own interest in the ghoul across the room. He lets out the smallest ghost of a snort.

"You too, huh?"

"I'm not blind," Aether chuckles into the juncture of his shoulder. That thumb gives his sweats a tug, fingertips brushing against the base of Swiss' semi. "Why else would I still be here?"

Swiss responds with a soft ha, and for a few long moments the pair of them simply stare. Swaying together to Rain's music, listening to his mumbled singing and watching him bob his head in time. Aether doesn't stop his casual groping through any of it, and it's no time at all before Swiss has gone nice and stiff against the seam of his pants.

"I need to see his cock," he blurts, rocking his hips, and the snort the other ghoul lets out makes his face warm.

"It's as pretty as the rest of him," Aether assures, and it takes a second for the words to hit. Swiss pulls away just enough to turn and raise an eyebrow, and Aether gives him a cheeky wink. "I was with Omega at his first physical," he explains, and Swiss has never been more jealous of Aether's infirmary work.

(Well, except maybe for that one time he got to hear the details of Dew's first prostate exam - but this is a close second.)

"You should tell me about it," Swiss tells him with a smirk, eyes dark. He wiggles his ass against Aether's bulge, forces out a low groan, and Aether pins him to his chest.

"I could," he shrugs, mouthing at the hinge of Swiss' jaw. "But I think you'd rather see for yourself."

Before Swiss can question it, Aether touches two fingers to his temple. Feeds him a flash of pale skin under harsh light, of a lithe body reclined on an exam table, of a thin cotton gown being untied by thick, gloved fingers to reveal -

"Shh," Aether whispers in his ear, those same fingers moving to cover Swiss' mouth before his rasping moan can give them away. "Don't get us caught. You'll ruin all the fun."

The other ghoul starts rubbing him through his sweats, slow and intentional, and when Aether's fat cock throbs against his ass Swiss would be lying if he said the thought alone didn't make him leak.

Shame is so overrated.

[grayson1996]

"Master Dick has left."

Bruce didn't respond, not that Alfred anticipated he would. The man had been infuriatingly quiet the last few months. Never saying more than a few words at a time to him, and never the one to initiate the dialogue.

Alfred hadn't been surprised, when Martha and Thomas passed Bruce had become mute for months. Alfred had been beside himself with concern, dragging the young boy to child psychologists and specialists. Certain he was already messing up this tremendous responsibility he had been given.

It made sense that Bruce would revert back to the bad habit with Jason's death.

It had almost been a relief when Richard arrived and he could hear the familiar melody of the two of them arguing, floating up the cave stairs. It was some sign that Bruce was still there, buried behind layers of grief and guilt.

He hadn't thought the fight would end in a punch, it never had before. But as soon as Alfred heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Richards body crash to the floor he had bolted downstairs. Just in time to hear Bruce destroy any goodwill that remained between him and his only living son.

Despite popular belief, Alfred hadn't been the butler for decades. He was the guardian of Wayne Manor and his protection of it did not stop at Bruce. This was why his first step had been to ensure that Richard was alright as his oldest stomped away, most likely to skulk in the study.

The younger man was so far from fine it only served to further fester the disappointment he felt in Bruce. A disappointment that made way to determination. Alfred had allowed Bruce to destroy everything around him after his parent's death, he had assumed the boy had needed to to move on. He was still paying for that choice every time he saw one of them don a mask and go out into the streets of Gotham.

He would not stand for it now.

Not now that there was more than just Alfred in Bruce's line of attack. Who would feel the reverbs of destruction.

Ms. Troy picked Dick up, and Alfred got the sense that the only reason she herself was not heading up to ream into Bruce, was because she could see a rare fire of rage reflecting back in his eyes. The two left, leaving Alfred with some relief knowing that Dick was out of the crosshairs.

When he finally made his way to the Manor he was right, Bruce was sitting in a high-backed armchair in his study. Face blank, and gaze looking unseeingly out the window as the first rays of dawn poked over the horizon.

Alfred was tired.

"Master Dick has left." Bruce didn't respond, not that Alfred anticipated he would. The man had been infuriatingly quiet the last few months. "Master Dick has left." He repeated, unwilling to let the man get away with silence this time.

For a moment Alfred could read the barest hint of guilt before it was buried under a veneer of indifference.

"What do you want?"

Alfred raised an eyebrow unimpressed, oh absolutely not.

"I would like many things Master Bruce, most notably for you to remove your head from where it's been so thoroughly put up your own ass." That at least got a reaction, since the arrival of the kids Alfred had preferred more subtle ways to admonish Bruce. But that was a kindness reserved for men who did not hit their sons.

"Go away Alfred."

"I will not." Alfred closed the study door behind him with a sense of finality that made Bruce shift slightly in his set. "I would like to understand what the hell it is you think you're doing?" The guilt was back but Bruce again hid it, this time with a snare.

"If you're talking about Dick, I was only telling him the truth. I don't need a partner, I don't need him, and I certainly do not need to be chided by you."

Anger was Bruce's defense mechanism and always had been. Alfred did not have the patience to humor it.

"In all the years I've known you, Master Bruce, you have never been cruel. It is unbefitting and frankly undeserved." Bruce's eyes flared at that.

"I lost my son!" I have lost so many, and yet I have never used it as an excuse to harm the ones I have left.

"I know.... You don't get to decide what happens to you in life. But you do get to choose how you will react to it and you're choosing wrong."

"Batman doesn't need-"

"I don't give a damn what Batman may or may not need!" Alfred felt his cool dissipate, leaving with it a weariness and a rage years in the making. He hated Batman, and hated it when Bruce hid behind him. "I don't give a damn about that mask of yours. Any and all of my loyalty and love has only been directed at you Master Bruce, not him. But you're quickly destroying it."

Bruce opened his mouth as though to argue, but perhaps seeing the ire held within Alfred decided against it. The fist crack in his stoic mask was showing however, as Alfred could see his eyebrows furrow deeply in some unexpressed emotion. Alfred continued,

"As soon as you brought that boy into this life his needs trumped yours and I refuse to stand here and watch as you treat him like the scum of the earth. As you verbally berate and physically demolish him just because you cannot cope. I stood by for too long but I will not stand for this. You've already lost one son and you're dangerously close to losing another if the damage is not already done. And mark my words Master Bruce, if you decide this is the path you're determined to go down, this path of cruelty and spite and solitude, I will stand with Master Dick and not you." This seemed to surprise Bruce, but Alfred didn't know why, he was many things but a pushover was not one of them. "I will not stand with you. Not this version of you who lacks any empathy and thinks he's the only man in this godforsaken family with any right to grieve." His voice broke on that last word, which seemed to spear through Bruce as he flinched at the noise.

"Alfred-"

"I've grieved with you Bruce. Lord knows I've grieved with you. But I refuse to grieve for you, not while you're still alive and still have the chance to fight." He walked over to Bruce, the man watching him warily from his seat as Alfred took his face in his hands. "My dear boy, you need to fight."

"I am fighting Alfred, everyday, I am fighting. But you don't understand what its like to lose a son." Bruce's words weren't mean, were all but desperate, but Alfred still received them like a slap in the face. He tightened his grip on Bruce's face.

"I loved Jason, I loved you, I understand all to well what your going through. I know your pain my boy, I have it, in the whole of my soul I feel it. But your cruelty is something I can't understand. Why you've decided that the best way to express your own pain is by inflicting it on others I can't understand. How you continuously do everything in your power to make Richard feel like nothing, that I can't understand..."

Finally, Alfred let go, standing up he ran a hand down his shirt, as though he could smooth out the flusteredness he was feeling.

"I don't mean to."

Alfred let out a sigh, once again feeling unbelievably exhausted.

"I know Master Bruce, but somehow that makes it worse." The sun was continuing to wain over the horizon, and Alfred thought maybe, just for today, he would sleep in. He started walking to the door, however before he could cross the threshold, he looked back at Bruce. Whose face looked both ancient and unbelievably young under the golden glow. "I have raised three boys Master Bruce. Three sons. I love you, but Richard is just as much mine as yours and I will not let you hurt him. Not again."

He turned and left the room. Hoping that he would not once again prove the Sisphysis to Bruce's unmovable rock.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 11

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on @discoscoob 's concept & bot! Though this is where the c.ai help ended because I was breaking the bot's pea pickin' mind. 😆

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, eventual dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten.

Eleven. 十一

You wake with a start. 

You’re naked, and Donaka is sprawled out in his bed beside you. Your eyes roam over the long lines of his powerful body, taking in his angles and curves. His broad muscled back, and tapered waist.

A more bitable little ass was never created by God or man. 

That bit of sanity you’d been hoping for once the hormones subsided mercifully returns to you. No matter how gorgeous this man is–no matter how good he fucks, or how many times he made you cum the night before with his hands and his cock and his tongue (sweet Confucious, Buddha, and baby Jesus, his tongue)–you have got to get out of here. 

It’s early morning, the blue light of pre-dawn. You slip out of bed, nearly dying of a heart attack when he stirs beside you–but does not wake. Quickly you throw on the tatters of your dress, and on bare feet you race as quickly and quietly as possible out the door, and down the hall. 

With your heart thundering in your ears you start rummaging through your drawers for that most essential of travel documents: your passport. The servants were not given access to lockers or any way to secure their belongings, so you’d hidden it in the bottom of your suitcase, inside a slit in the lining. As you stick your hand in it, fishing around, your hopes drop like a stone.

It’s gone. 

You feel again, frantic this time, finding once more–it’s not there. 

 “Missing something?”

Donaka’s voice from the doorway makes you start; you lose your balance, tumbling over on the floor. 

Anything you might say turns to ash on your tongue, as you look up at him, forbidding in a pair of black lounge pants, and nothing else. Why oh why does he have to be such a beautiful bastard? 

You realize there’s no lying to him, so you stick out your chin. “Where is it?” you demand. 

“In a safe place,” he answers, his lips pursing as he tries not to smile. “You have to admit…that wasn’t exactly secure.” He nods at your suitcase, and you clench your fist, the desire to hit him burning real in your bones. He made sure you didn’t have a safe place to put it. 

“How dare you?” He just rolls his eyes, and crosses the floor to you in two strides, pulling you up off the floor. 

“Come back to bed, darling. I was sleeping so peacefully before you had to go skulking around.”

“You can’t do this.” 

You’re not sure who you’re trying to convince–him, or you?

He just lifts an eyebrow, sweeping one of those big hands across your cheek, into your hair. His hold on you is just this side of menacing.  “There’s not a place in the world you could hide from me, y/n. Remember that.” 

He tugs on your hand…and fuck you, if you’re not so flabbergasted, you don’t follow him like a starstruck idiot, absolutely flummoxed by his nerve. 

Fine, you think. No passport? You just have to make it to your embassy. Surely they would put you in protective custody or something?

“You’ll never make it that far,” he tells you conversationally, his arm around your waist as you walk together down the hall. 

“Where?”

“The Embassy, of course.” 

Motherfucker. 

He makes you pause at the window in the living room with him, the first rays of dawn beginning to shine through the massive windows. The forest looks like a gilded emerald; the water beyond it a blanket of diamonds. He follows your gaze, taking in the marvelous sight. Shouldn’t it be storming outside? Rain falling down, on this bleak day? 

“How can you live with such an awful view?” he asks wryly, turning your attention back up to him. Before you can answer he kisses you, claiming your mouth for his as he presses you back against the window. His hand makes its way beneath your skirt, unimpeded as you did not take the time to even pull on your panties before making your escape from his bedroom. 

“Donaka…” you protest, feeling utterly exposed like this, in the big open room, with nothing but glass behind you. The rest of the staff will be waking soon. The thought of one of your colleagues walking in on you like this makes you want to die all over again. “Please not here…someone will see.” 

He scoffs at you, of course. “No one will interrupt us. This is my house. You are the only one here who never knew your proper place. We’re fixing that now.” 

A small sound escapes you, something between a whine and a growl. All it earns you is a hushed, dark laughter, and this terrible man lowers himself to his knees before you, pinning you against the glass with one large hand spanning your torso. He smirks up at you, delighting in your self-righteous rage, your tears of frustration glittering in the corners of your eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” he taunts you. “Isn’t this what you wanted all along? The bad man on his knees for you?” His smile is like a baring of teeth, and you both know who holds the real power here, no matter who is on their knees. His other hand has made its way up your thigh again, cupping your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you squirm against him, almost hurting you. 

“No,” you whimper, fighting the urge to cry, your legs about to collapse out from under you. 

“No?” he demands. “That’s not what I read.” His long fingers reach to test your center, finding your treacherous little cunt has cast her own vote for him yet again, moist and willing. You try to shy away but he pins you with his superior strength, utterly and completely.

“You missed the subtext,” you choke out, your heart breaking all over again. You were so resolved to fight the night before. That fire seems to have suffocated under the wet blanket of hopelessness again. 

“Were there underlying themes in all that filth?” he asks incredulously. 

Feeling idiotic all over again, your words lodge in your throat. But Donaka has paused in his ministrations, looking up at you with that laser-sharp gaze. “This isn’t what you wanted?” he asks with a deceptive gentleness. “My hands?” He pops the last buttons at the bottom of your dress, the garment gaping to bare all of you to his possessive gaze. “My mouth?” He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your lower belly, those plush lips upon your flesh making you tremble, curling your toes. He strums at your slick center, his sultry voice dropping low. “You didn’t want my cock to fill that aching emptiness inside you?” 

You writhe against the window, crying out as two of those clever fingers press up inside you, pleasuring you and pinning you as his tongue seeks out your needly little clit. You could murder him, for the way he makes you hate him and want him all in one breath.  

He stops as suddenly as he started, looking up at you expectantly. “Well?”  

You feel like the dumbest woman who ever walked the earth–but then, you suppose he already knew that about you. He’s had your measure from day one, and has simply been playing with you like a cat with a mouse ever since. Yet now, you would rather die than tell him what you’re really thinking. You shake your head tearfully, locking your heart up tight.

It doesn’t matter, because it seems this man can read your fucking mind. 

“Did you hope I would fall in love with you, y/n? You young, sweet thing.”

His words slide past your ribs and pierce your heart, deadly as a stiletto. You really were a fool. 

“Maybe I did want your love,” you admit, voice rough as you force it past the lump in your throat. “But all you want is submission.” 

He told you as much, over and over the night before. 

Yet he does not laugh at you, the way you expect him to. He looks up at you with such a weight in that dark gaze, you cannot breathe. “What is love, y/n? Do I not provide for you? Protect you? I let you talk to me with insouciance I would never tolerate from anyone else. I am not a tender man, but what little I have, I have given to you. Tell me, what is love, y/n?”

It’s almost as though he’s truly asking you.

Suddenly you feel as though the floor has dropped out from under you. Does he love you? Or is he just fucking with you, the way he has been the whole time you’ve been here? You need to make up your mind about this, because the whiplash of wondering is going to be the end of you. 

“Donaka…”

Then he narrows his eyes, that fire returned therein. “You are the one who taunted me with talk of leaving. Do you love me?”

“You scare me,” you finally answer, which should be a no…but isn’t exactly.  

“You knew all along what I am, deep down. You sensed it, even without proof. You could have fled, but you stayed. You know why, bunny?”

You make a keening sound as he curls his fingers inside you, tormenting you with another wet kiss to your clit. “Do you know why?” he demands again. 

You can hardly find your voice. “Why?”

“Because I fascinate you, the same way you fascinate me. I’m more than willing to try to fuck it out of our systems, but I suspect–” He presses your clit with his thumb, tearing a sob from your throat, stealing your ability to think, to breathe. Your head rocks back against the glass, hard enough to bruise.  “I’ll be keeping you for a long time.”

Then his tongue dips into your slit, lapping at your clit, and you forget everything for a long while.

[waywardsou2]

Drunk!Logan x Drunk!MaleReader Part 2

You guys were hounding me like crazy for the next part so here. I whipped this one up for you. Get it whilst it's hot and fresh! @oktcunez @raetastic07 @a-short-ass-disappointment (if you would like to be tagged for future one shots let me know)

Summary: Logan didn't get you. And you didn't get Logan, you were mad at the world and you had taken it out in Logan. So now you decided to take it out on yourself.

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: swearing, self-harm, suicidal ideation, worthlessness, self esteem issues, survivors' guilt, trauma, blood, graphic violence, can be read as platonic or potentially romantic

(If you haven't caught up on part 1 you can read that here)

You storm out of the bar cursing and muttering to yourself. You vent your frustrations to the night air. Why did he hold back? It’s not like it would have hurt you for long. You've taken bullets to the lungs, claws couldn’t be anything different. And it wouldn’t matter anyway, your body wouldn't let the injury stay there for too long. The punctures would have been filled again within minutes.

Minutes ago he was ready to throw you around like a rag doll but as soon as you give him an opening he hesitates.

Coward, can’t even punch the guy who was cussing him out and pushing him around, did he really think you were that fragile?

You mutter to yourself a little louder. You didn’t know why it bothered you so much that he was so uncaring when it came to you. You were the newest member to the team and he always over looked you, he could be rough with the other team members but at least he acknowledged them. He always seemed to just pass over you. What was his deal?

It didn’t matter, you were mad at yourself for even caring. What good was it seeking approval from someone like that

Wait, no. You didn’t want approval. That would be stupid, you didn't need approval. You never did. And this guy was no different. He was nothing to you.

Except he was, because if he wasn’t you wouldn’t be having this battle with yourself.

You skulk down the adjacent ally to the bar and start to vent your frustrations louder. You wished your body would allow you to feel pain, prolonged pain. You wish it didn’t heal. You wish you had scars to show for your losses, for the battles claimed with victory and the battles ending in defeat. But no, your body was as pristine as a newborn baby and like a psychopath you wished your skin would scar and scab and peel and break and bleed. It did. But never for long enough.

Sure the mental pain was bad, excruciating even. But you had nothing to show for it, no real loss. No real pain. Nothing that signified that you were even struggling the way you were. The only sign anyone knew something was wrong was the fact that you went to drink every night. But that was normal for a few of the team members so it was nothing to ask about. And no one asked so you didn’t tell anyone.

Although you find it hard to believe that you would tell anyone even if they did ask. But it wasn’t your place to complain, there are bigger problems in the world and people with worse situations than you. Some trauma was nothing compared to that.

But deep down you knew it wasn’t just “some trauma” it was the reason you were here in the first place. Your mutation manifested during a school shooting, you stepped in front of a group of middle schoolers and took the bullets. But instead of being thanked for saving those kids you got incarcerated and experimented on until you broke out. Having to live off grid until Charles found you.

That’s what you get for trying to be a hero when you weren’t. Because you weren’t, it was a simple fact. You weren’t heroic, you weren't special, you couldn't perform feats of strength, and you definitely couldn’t protect people.

You punched the wall of the bar, the skin on your knuckles splitting from the force. Good.

But like usual the skin flaked off, dying as it was replaced with fresh clean skin. The only trace of your injury was the tiny trickle of blood sliding down your finger.

You punched the wall, again and again and again.

Meanwhile Logan was still sitting on the floor where you shoved him off, he watched after you as you stalked away and walked out of view. He was holding out his hand like it was burning, trying to keep the heat away from himself.

What the hell had you been thinking, you had made him mad, sure. But he wasn’t going to actually fight you. He just wanted to scare you off so you would stop. Things didn’t go well when people pushed his buttons. It wasn’t a threat, it was the truth. He couldn’t always control his rage and you prodding him was dangerous. He needed you to stop but what you had done, or attempted to do, left him speechless.

He knew of your regenerative powers and reinforced skin but there was no way he was going to willingly attack a team mate. He had been watching you ever since you joined the team. Keeping an eye on you but making sure to keep his distance. You were fierce and strong. Capable but reckless. Due to your regenerative mutation you threw yourself in the path of others. Like a human shield. I

f it weren’t for your mutation, he might have said you were suicidal. That was before tonight. Now he might have said and believed it was true.

He’d been purposefully keeping his distance from you, he didn’t want to scare you off or intimidate you. He was told that he could be very confronting at first so he wanted to give you time to adjust. He guesses this is what he gets for following Scott’s advice. It seems keeping his distance had the opposite of the intended affect.

But tonight, had just thrown a spanner in the works. He couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or the fact that you always seemed rearing for a fight but what you had just tried to do had thrown off his entire image of you. Not necessarily in a bad way, but a way that made him want to close the distance. He was concerned for you, and he could tell you were carrying something heavy. Like everyone in the X-Men they all had a ball and chain with them. A past life that had brought them here to Charles’ school.

But yours was still unknown to him, and he assumed to everyone else except Charles.

Picking himself up from the floor he drops some of money on the bar next to yours and follows you outside. He sniffs at the air, following your scent and the alcohol intermingled in with it. As he follows your scent something else joins it, something sweet.

He turns a corner to find you in the back alley, beating up the brick wall of the bar, your knuckles bleeding and then healing over. You don’t hesitate between each punch, your hands not even completely healed before you strike the wall again. Over and over and over. Blood covered your hands making them a deep crimson in the shadowy back alley. The same deep colour was dripping from the walls, making the brickwork look like it was crying. The cracks in the bricks filled with your blood. Were those cracks there before or after you began your barrage?

The scene laid out before him was haunting. In a mere split second Logan had gone from an annoyed but concerned walk to a horrified sprint. He slams into you and pulls you away from the wall. Spinning the two of you around and pushing your back into the patch of blood on the wall. From this close the smell of the blood overwhelmed him, but he struggled through it. He grabbed your hands and pinned them to the wall beside your head. He didn’t want to risk you trying to get away or hurting yourself again.

“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed into your face

You glowered back, he could see now that you had tears falling from your eyes. You weren’t yelling or sobbing or making any noise. He could hardly hear your breathing you were that quiet. You hadn’t even made a grunt as you split open your own skin.

You didn’t speak now, you didn’t want to say anything. You didn’t have to explain this to him. It wasn’t his business, and he didn’t really care. He wasn’t asking because he cared. He was asking because he thought you were insane.

He looked down at you with his brow furrowed. He couldn’t figure you out, there was something missing in the now twisted image he had of you. The why. Why you were here, not just here tonight but here with the X men at all. Why?

“Why?” he asked, his voice still rough but softer than it was gruff. Unlike his first question  

“Why what?” you asked, you were being stupid on purpose. Pretending like this whole situation was completely normal. That you hadn’t just been injuring yourself on purpose and were now trapped between your teammate and a wall.

“Don’t do that, just answer the question”

You didn’t want to, you didn’t want to be here anymore, it was a mistake coming here to drink and picking on Logan. You just wanted to disappear but he pressed you harder.

Repeating the same question

“Why?”

“What was the point?”

“What was wrong with you”

He was begging you to answer him, his voice was overwhelming, yelling at you for an answer until you snapped. His voice reverberated around your head until your skull cracked from the strain of it.

You fight against him as you yell but he holds on, he doesn’t even flinch as you scream “Because I can’t fucking die! Because I will never have a scar left behind to show what I’ve done! To show what I’ve been through! Because if I don’t come home with blood on my hand’s no one will know that I ever did anything worth anything! Because if I can’t bleed then everyone who has ever died won’t be able to rest knowing that the person who failed to save them doesn’t even have a scar to show for his failure!”

And it was out. Your words were out of your mind and into the world. The sound carried away on the wind, the world and now Logan knowing the secret you had kept hidden. Like a locked box at the bottom of the lake. That had been pulled from the depths and sprung open from years of rusting in the water.

Logan didn’t let go of you, in fact he held on tighter. The truth making him scared for you.

No, not for you.

Of you.

Because a person who still went on trying to do everything for others despite all the pain they held inside was someone stronger than any foe he ever faced. Any enemy he was ever going to face.

You looked away, staring down at Logan’s chest. Unable to look him in the face despite the rage you felt against him. It was all bundled up inside of you like a raging fire burning down its containment. And you were starting to burn him, you didn’t want to, but you knew you already had. Scorched him like everyone else in your life. No matter how hard you tried to douse your own flame people kept adding fuel to it.

But that rage wasn't fading and you had to direct it somewhere. You pulled your arms forward and ripped them away from his grasp. Some of the blood on your knuckles smeared onto his hand as you pulled away. You put your hands on his chest and shoved as hard as you could. Causing him to stumble back from you. Releasing you from his arm cage.

"Get the fuck away from me" you hiss at him.

You turn to leave down the alley and you bump into his with your shoulder for good measure.

You make your way to your car and speed out of the parking lot and down the road. Once again leaving Logan in your dust.

Oh my god I couldn't help myself but I'm leaving you guys hanging for a part 3. If you want to see where this goes (maybe I'll even turn it into a mini series) then let me know!

And as usual I take requests so if you want to see anything in particular then send me an ask!

Edit: if you happen to be coming back to re read this, yes. I did change the ending because I had no fucking clue how to connect the next part so something needed to shift. Sorry to disappoint but it moved to fast for me to be able to probably continue the story.

[specialagentlokitty]

Negan x reader - insanity comes and goes

Hands stuffed in your pocket, you grinned a little bit at the man who was stood in front of you, bat over his shoulder while his people fixed their guns in you.

“So, (Y/N), are you gonna tell me why you’re skulking around home? How’d you get so far?”

“Why would I do that? Takes all the fun out of the game Negan.”

He hummed a little, walking over and he looked at you, reaching up to brush some hair from your face.

“Why not join me? You could have anything you ever wanted here, that prick can barely offer you any food. You tell me what he’s planning and I’ll let you keep your shit, and give you more.”

This had been his play the entire time, Negan was sure that he could turn you against Rick and the others and use you as a double agent.

The issue with that is that was boring, and you didn’t feel like selling out your friends just for some stuff that didn’t even matter in this world anymore.

You smirked a little, and in a swift motion took the bat from his hands.

“Give Lucille back!” He roared.

“Aw is this special to you? You want it back you big baby?”

You raised your brows in suggestion then you moved your hand, flinging the bay across the fence, out into all of the walkers.

“Oops.”

He stormed over, grabbing you by the collar he landed a punch on your face, and he slammed you against the fence.

He sneered, clenching his jaw.

“Whatever game you’re fucking playing, I’m done with it. I’m going to have tour god damn bones sent back to the prick…”

“And I’m gonna haunt your ass until you go insane.” You smirked.

You tossed you aside, and you heard a loud bang before everything went black.

“Get me Lucille!” He snapped.

He looked down at your body, bullet in your head, and he walked past you over to his men and back inside.

He ordered somebody to take your body and throw it to the walkers, and he began gathering a company to pay Alexandria a visit, less than impressed with your visit.

He walked outside, and he was stopped by Simon.

“She’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone? She wasn’t exactly fucking going anywhere Simon!”

“She’s gone Negan, someone came outside to move the body and it’s not there, there isn’t even a blood trail.”

Negan yelled, slamming his fist into the side of the truck.

“Then they find it!”

He got into the truck, balling his hands into fists in pure rage.

He stayed silent as they made their way to the community, and the gates were opened when they arrived.

“Rick!” He roared.

Said man came jogging over, slowly down to a walk.

“That bitch of a friend of yours, you send her to my home?”

“Who?” Rick asked confused.

“(Y/N), because I hate to break it to you but I put a bullet in the middle of her pretty little head, but now her body is missing, so how many did you send?”

“I never sent anyone.”

Negan grabbed Rick by the back of his shirt, dragging him towards his house and the people followed to see what was going on.

He tossed Rick to the ground and Negan took his gun, aiming it at Carl.

“You tell me the truth, or I put a bullet in your goddamn son too.”

“Oo scary.” You mocked.

“What the fuck?”

Negan turned around to see you sitting on the curb, and you grinned, offering him a little wave.

“Holy crap, now either you’re dead and I’m seeing shit, or there’s more than one of you.”

You hummed a little bit.

“No, just want. I don’t think poor Rick here could handle more than one of me, I annoy him enough.”

“Now I remember watching a bullet go through your brain.”

“Oh yeah? What it look like? Was there a lotta blood? Cause that’s always a fun way to die.”

“Let’s fucking find out!”

Negan took Rick’s gun and aimed it at you, pulling the trigger and a few people screamed.

Negan looked around at them all, noticing the lack of horror or sadness on their faces.

“Come on! What’s wrong with your people I just killed your friend!”

You pushed yourself up, rubbing your forehead, and you looked at your blood on the floor.

“Damn, that is a lot of blood.”

“What the fuck?!”

Negan walked over, shooting your again, and he grabbed his bat, hitting you a few times for good measure.

Your blood splattered his clothes and the ground, and he just stood there looking at you, watching you.

“(Y/N)s just going to wake up again.” Carl called.

Negan looked to him, and Carl shrugged a little bit.

“Apparently out of all the people in the world, death just don’t like me.” You said.

You sat up, wiping the blood from your eyes and you watched Negan spun around with a mortified look on his face.

He’d seen some shit, and done some shit, but this? This was something different compared to anything he had ever seen or done.

“What the shit is wrong with you? Why won’t you die?!”

He swung his bat again, this time keeping an eye on you, and he could see the blood stop flowing from your wound, and you grinned a little bit.

“Please keep going, maybe I can actually get a good night sleep for once.”

He took a few steps away from you, and you sat in your own blood, just grinning from ear to ear at him.

“I told you I’d haunt your ass…”

Negan looked to Rick.

“Tell me this shit ain’t real.”

“No, it’s real. Apparently there’s just no getting rid of (Y/N) at this point.” Rick sighed.

You pushed yourself up, wiping your hands on your shirt.

“Nope, you’re stuck with my ass until you die!” You beamed.

“This is fucking insane. You’re fucking insane.” Negan said.

You gave a half shrug.

“Maybe just a lot, yeah. Sanity comes and goes.”

You took a step forward and he subconsciously took one back.

The problem with being human was that no matter how big and tough you acted, if you saw something that wasn’t natural, your immediate response is to stay away from it.

So Negan pulled Rick in front of him and you stopped walking.

“What the actual fuck…? Now I got some psychos in my lot, but you? You’re a whole new level of fucked.”

“I know! It’s great!” You laughed.

You bent down, picking up a tree branch and you looked at Negan.

“So, who do you think will win? Me or you? Cause I’m kinda wondering how long it’ll take me to beat the shit outta you with this branch before it breaks.”

“You come any closer and I’ll paint the ground with his blood.”

You hummed.

“Yeah, okay.”

You tossed the stick aside.

“Oh by the way Negan, you should probably evacuate your base.”

“What the fuck did you do?”

“I maybe have rigged some explosives. I was bored waiting for you.”

Some of his men began running back to their cars and trucks.

“You should probably find them before someone triggers one.” You smirked.

He clenched his jaw, pushing Rick to the ground.

“Run…” you whispered.

You grabbed the stick and ran after them all, yelling as they jumped into their vehicles to try and get away from you.

It made you laugh loudly and you swung it at the door of Negans truck.

“You fucked it Negan! You can’t kill me but I can kill the shit out of you!”

He stuck his middle finger up at you as he drove away and you grinned proudly at Rick and a Michonne.

Daryl put his arm around your shoulders.

“See, this is why we need a crazy immortal son of a bitch.” He said.

“Yeah, what he said.”

“Well, at least that’ll make him rethink his next plans for a while.” Michonne said.

And it did.

Negan was now rethinking what he had been doing there.

People were a resource, he didn’t want to kill them, and apparently no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t kill you.

So he had to find a way to get around that if he wanted to keep doing what he was doing, but a voice in the back of his head was also warning him not to cross paths with you again.

But he wasn’t one to back down from a fight, and this just made things a whole lot more interesting

[recreationalfanfics]

Yandere Two-Face x Gn! Reader drabble

Doll is used as a term of endearment but gn bc tbh, that's peak endearment ngl.

Harvey knows its wrong.

Harvey knows it won't end the way he wants it to, he wasn't even sure if he wanted you or if it was the pain of losing Gilda, but he knew it would only end up with you hurt. Maybe even worse. He tries to use the coin to figure out ways to get over you. Heads, he lifts weights at the court yard to try and get his mind off of you. Tails, he tries to strike up a conversation with some of the other loonies. Yeah, it hurt his head to hear them ramble and babble about who knows what, but it hurt even more having to think about you.

You, his favorite psychiatrist. One who would start off each session with a simple coin toss. Heads, you talk to Harvey first. Tails, you talk to Two-Face. He hates all the times you landed on tails, all the times that monster got to speak to you instead of him, all the times that no-good-gangster got to lavish in your attention and he didn't. However, it's what fate chose and he knew all to well that fate had it out for him, because if it wasn't then maybe you two could have met under different circumstances. He liked when you looked at him, he wasn't sure how to explain it, but he knew when you did. The way your eyes would soften along with his tone and mannerisms when he finally got to switch off with that bastard. It made him smile, almost shy perhaps. He missed it, he missed you, but he closed his eyes and groaned as his thoughts once more came back to you. Rubbing his face with his hands, he rolled over onto his back as his brain was at war with itself.

He needed to stop thinking about you. About you in his arms as you stare at him lovingly with those haunting (e/c) eyes, at images of him flipping a coin to decide if he should surprise you with breakfast in bed or by doing all the laundry, or at the idea of you no longer having to work and staying at home for him, your eyes lighting up as he walked through the door and running up to him excitedly with open arms. It won't come true, he knows it, but he wanted it to so badly.

Two-Face doesn't care.

Ever since your transfer to Iron Gate in Central City, he had become more unruly, more prone to violence and roughousing with other inmates and becoming an overall pain in the ass to all the staff. Harvey'll try and rationalize it for him, that you were a psychologist and that he was just another patient to you, but you can't rationalize with someone who isn't concerned reason and logic. Instead, Two-Face was more concerned that something of HIS was walking around the world, unchecked and unsupervised, and ANYONE could try and get their grubby little mitts all over you. The very idea got his fingers curling into a fist and his knuckles aching to be uppercutting some poor unsuspecting victim. He was mad at the other quacks who thought they could reach the same places you reached, he was mad at the prison warden for approving your transfer to Iron Heights, but he was mostly mad at you for going.

While Harvey skulked, Two-Face schemed. All he could think about were plans to escape Arkham, hunt you down, and drag you back to Gotham. Right where you belonged, beside him. At first, he was just becoming more prone to "disruptive outbursts" but all Arkham inmates get rowdy here and then, then he started becoming difficult during therapy sessions. Not that he wasn't in the first place but with you gone, he didn't want to talk to someone who had the audacity to sat where you sat, who tried to flip a coin and pretend to understand him like you did. Not that you were pretending, deep down, you did understand. You understood that deep down, Harvey Dent was still in there...but you also understood that at the end of the day, Two-Face was staying and never talked about him like he was some imaginary figure Harvey made up in his head that will be cured after a few sessions and a little surgery. It's what he liked most about you, you gave him due respect.

At least he thought you did until you left. It doesn't matter, though, because you're coming back home. Walking out of Arkham Asylum during another prison break, his boys were quick to pick up their boss and give him the run down on you, handing him candid photos of your new day-to-day life. You're just the sweetest when you're oblivious to danger, you know that?

"Should we really do this? I could be putting her in more danger, but maybe this also isn't a bad thing...No, it doesn't change the fact it's still wrong!"

"Quit your whining, Harvey. If you're so concerned about what we should do or not, flip for it."

He takes out his infamous coin. Heads; they change their mind and just drive back to base, another day, another crime in Gotham City. Tails; they prepare a pretty little cell for you and get ready for your little return to Gotham. He throws it up in the air, his eyes staring up at it. His eye on the right is pleading and anxious, waiting for the coin to tell him what to do so he could stop feeling so guilty about wanting to have you to himself. The left side was tense but also maliciously giddy as the coin then fell into the palm of his hand. His fingers curled around it like a fist and he's about to open it to reveal the result of their toss...but he never does.

Instead with a deep sigh, he pockets the coin and he gives his boy's orders on how to observe you, on how to get ready for your return.

"I'm sorry, (Y/n), but this is for your own good." Harvey apologizes, standing before your fearful form in your new apartment.

"No it ain't, you just belong to me. Simple as that, doll~" Two-Face boasts, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you to his chest.

Harvey knows its wrong, Two-Face doesn't care. Yet, no matter how you flip it, you were doomed either way because that's just what cruel fate had in store for you.

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Eddie thinking he's a suave ladies' man as he tries to talk to you but realising he has no game whatsoever. You find it endearing.

Minors dni, Eddie being adorable and flustered, fluffy fic.

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work.

❤️

In his head, he thinks he's suave, charming and a ladies' man but in reality, he blushes and makes a doofus of himself in front of pretty girls.

Eddie has a major crush on you and he doesn't know what to do. He couldn't stop thinking about you.

He spends most of his time talking to Uncle Wayne or the guys, they are used to his chaotic energy and goofball shit.

Most girls ignore, roll their eyes at him or call him "freak"

The small few that do notice him, who have flirted back, who he's met at shitty dive bars don't stick around long.

You were talking to Chrissy, he opened his mouth to say hello but his voice came out all squeaky and made him curse himself out in his head.

So when he saw you for the first time he acted like he was confident, cool and shit but in reality he was a mess inside.

To him, you were beautiful, sweet and an angel on earth, some mythical type of elven princess from LOTR, a goddess.

Chrissy looked at him all sympathetic and introduced you to him while he called himself several names in his head.

He missed the shy smile you sent his way, the intrigued look as he skulked off in the opposite direction hoping to forget the disaster of a first meeting.

✨💕

After that Eddie attempted to show off while he was near your vicinity. Hoped you would notice him while he was strutting around like a peacock on the Hellfire lunch table and throwing his daily insult at Jason.

It might have worked in theory if he didn't notice you actually staring over at him one time and he froze, like a deer in headlights.

Kinda like this.

Then as he jumped off the table he managed to trip over his own feet, face plant on the floor and shoot back up like nothing had happened.

He really hoped you didn't notice that.

But you did, the Hellfire boys snickered in the background until he gave them one of his death glares and they shut up immediately.

He was so pathetic at this. In his mind, he was certain he was all cool and suave but in real life he was having no luck wooing you.

Rock stars wouldn't have this problem he told himself sullenly with a pout on his face.

A pout that you thought was cute as fuck, however Eddie didn't know that yet.

❤️

After a little while Eddie was ready to give up, he tried speaking to you but got all tongue-tied and overacted to show that he wasn't sweating his ass off while you looked at him with your pretty eyes.

He was forced to realise he didn't have much game as he thought he did and was considering asking Steve for help. The chicks all loved him right?

Stupid, stupid son of a bitch he berated himself as he stomped to away from his usual spot in the woods still sulking.

With minutes to spare until he had to get to class, he grudgingly gets up.

Just one week left until he graduated this hellhole he consoles himself.

His army crawling to a D in Miss O'Donnell's class finally paid off.

Then you walked up to him as he got to the school entrance and he felt his heart stutter in his chest.

"Hi, Eddie" you murmur and you sound like you are nervous, shy too just like how he feels.

Why were you nervous? Did your friends tell you he was mean and scary or something?

"Hi, uh sweetheart" Yeah, nice going doofus he scolds himself.

"I was wondering if you had a date for prom?" he blinks, once, twice, then shakes his head.

He planned on avoiding prom like the plague, conformist bullshit he told himself. Though if he was honest he would have sucked it up and gone for you. If you wanted.

Not that you would ever ask but he would.

"Nah, not my thing sweetheart" is it his imagination or did you look disappointed? You had guys ask you for weeks but you turned them down much to the relief Eddie felt when he saw it happen.

"Oh, okay. I just thought if it was your type of thing then maybe we could have gone together but it's not so uh cool" You look up at him through your lashes and he thinks his brain short circuits.

...

You, the most beautiful girl he had ever met in his life wanted to go with him.

"Why would you want to go with me?" he asks stunned because hasn't he been making an ass of himself for weeks and weeks now? Months even.

"Because you're cute, endearing, actually to me you're super fucking hot and I struggle to know what to say around you"

Did he end up getting to class after all and he was daydreaming? No... no this was very real and he shrugged off the nerves he was feeling and grinned.

"Milady, I would love to go to prom with you" The look on your face, the joy makes his heart ping in delight.

"Great, I really like you, Eddie" You move closer to him and before he knows it he's kissing you and you're kissing him back and everything is fucking incredible.

❤️

The rest of Hellfire was stunned as you joined their table and settled on Eddie's knee while kissing his cheek.

He heard Jason's shout of shock and lazily flipped him the bird, he was too into his girl to notice.

His, you were his. He couldn't believe it.

"Dude, how??" Lucas asked him stunned, mirroring Dustin and Mike's look, he winked at his sheeples and shrugged.

"Couldn't resist the Eddie Munson game could you princess?" you giggle and press a kiss to his lips and he basks in the glow of your beaming smile and that gorgeous giggle.

Eddie felt like a rockstar, 86 was his year, just like he suspected.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: I want Draken to throw me around like I'm a fuckin' ragdoll, beat my ass like I came home late for dinner one too many times, and rail me like it's our last night on earth (but it won't be, obviously because no. I'm not ready for that.) Also, I never go on about stuff I write, but I am quite proud of this. I hope you guys like it! <3

C/W ::: Draken x F.reader, obviously language and overuse of italics (is that even a question with my stuff anymore?), jealousy, distrust, jaw grabbing, wrist grabbing, dragging by wrist, throwing onto bed, spanking, pussy juice and spit swallowing, oral M->F, slight possessiveness but it's for a good reason?, lmk if I missed anything. Thanks!

WC ::: 1,721

Taglist ::: @arlerts-angel @kazutora-kurokawa @viburnt @darkstarlight82

You had the day from hell. When you walked in the door of your house, you immediately felt a little better. You could hear your boyfriend talking and laughing. Figuring that he was there with Mikey, Baji or another one of the guys. They'd help cheer you up, for sure.

"I'm h- ... h-hi, honey … I'm home. Who's this?" You asked Ken, trying to maintain a neutral face at the newcomer in your space.

"This is a friend from the bike shop. Shinichiro introduced us." Your face fell. "Hey, I'll catch up with you later, yeah? See you at the shop sometime this week. Thanks for hangin' out, though."

She pursed her lips and pointed at you, giving him the universal sign for 'I hope I didn't get you into any trouble.' Draken shook his head and walked her to the door. "Bye."

And then he turned to you.

"Hi. How was your day." He said, words void of emotion.

You tipped your weight to one hip and crossed your arms. "Great. My day was ... just ... fuckin' great. Thanks for asking. I'm gonna go lay down."

Draken started to follow you. "Great. I could use a nap, too. Let's go." He looked down at your hand pressed against his chest and raised his eyebrows at your blatant disregard at his trying to be with you right now.

"Nnno, alone."

"You really think I'm going to let you get away with this shit? You think I'm going to let you skulk away all pissy-like? C'mere. NOW." He used the tone. The voice that always made you listen. But today you just didn't have it in you to be compliant. "Hey, I'm fuckin' talkin' to you, princess. Get. Your. Ass. Over. Here. Now."

The sheer amount of defiance that coursed through your veins was no match for his absolute authority over you. So you turned on your heel and faced him, but you couldn't make eye contact.

"Good girl. So," he got close to your ear, nudging it with his nose, "you gonna tell me what this shit is all about? You gonna tell me what's bothering my pretty baby so much?" He brushed your hair from your shoulder and kissed your collarbone all the way up to your neck. "Because I don't think anything bad happened here. I was just sitting, talking to a friend, in our house. And you mean to tell me that you have a problem with that? Hm-mm. That's just not going to fly."

You kept your eyes trained on the floor. "Look at me." Draken said. "Fuckin' ... look at me." He pulled you close and grabbed you by the jaw, making you look at him. Your eyes on his. "There's my pretty baby girl. Ok, so what can we do about this seed of doubt that's growing inside that crazy little brain of yours?"

Against any and all control you had over your body, you could feel yourself heating up. The way he was handling this situation that you're blowing way out of proportion. The way he's handling you.

"Come with me. C'mon, let's go." Draken grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into the bedroom. You stumbled behind him trying to make it harder for him to get you to follow, but he would always win the game of strength. He's easily twice as strong as you.

He flung you around and threw you down on the bed. "What's your problem? You think that I meet some new girl and I'm going to fuck 'er? You think that because I meet any ... other ... girl ... and that's it? I'm going to turn into some asshole that cheats on the girl he loves? Mm-mm. No. That's not acceptable to me. You should know better than that, princess. I can't believe that you're doubting me." Draken glowered down at you. "You're my girl. That's all there is to it. That being said, I am ALLOWED to talk to other girls. But that doesn't mean anything. That doesn't mean shit. YOU ... are mine. And right now, what's mine, is acting like a real fuckin' brat. And that means that I have to tame that shit out of you. Which is a little - just a little - disappointing. Because I thought I fucked all of that out of you over a year ago. But it just keeps croppin' up, doesn't it? Take your clothes off."

You looked up at him from where you were on the bed. "Wh-," you tried. But he wouldn't have any of it.

"Take ... your ... clothes ... off. Did I stutter? No, I don't think so. I need to fuck some sense into you, my jealous baby." A wicked smile crept across his face as he stood there and waited for you to do what he said.

You took your clothes off and as you stood there, feeling more naked in front of him than even the first time he saw you this way, you could feel yourself getting wet. Your cheeks were hot and your belly was now home to more than one butterfly.

"Ok, good, good." He sat down on the edge of the bed and stuck his hand out for you to come to him. "Lay down on my lap, ass up, princess. We're going to reestablish who each of us belongs to and hopefully, hopefully, you will know that your place is right fucking next to me. Always. Not behind me, beside me. Yeah? WITH ... ME. It would appear need to beat some of the brat out of you." He whispered against your shoulder, "Ok, bay ... bee?"

You whimpered against the bedspread as his hand came down on your ass, the sound of his hand slapping the fattest part of you resounding throughout the space. He smoothed his palm over the red mark that was slowly appearing against your skin. "How was that? You feeling any less bratty?"

Raising your head to answer him, he spanked you again. "Ooohhh, too slow, baby. And anyway, I already know the answer is 'no.' So we're no where near done here. Just so you're aware. Do you expect me to just stop talking to my friends? Well, let me clarify ... To other girls? Because that's just crazy.

And, by the way, I love you. I love you more than anything in this entire world. You are everything to me. And you're being a little bit of an asshole right now. I'm sorry if you feel insecure or whatever. But I'm not going to give in to your tantrum. Ok? Now lay back down. And let me get to work on you."

He rubbed his hand over your back and you could feel him readjust himself, and then the smack of his hand on your ass came again and again. He leaned forward and kissed the back of your neck, his hand trailing down your spine.

"I love you, princess. I love you ... so fucking much." His fingers dipped inside you and you gasped. "Look at you. You're so fuckin' wet. God, you're such a little slut. You're so wet for me, baby. Good girl. But why is it when I'm beating your ass, trying to teach you a lesson about why you shouldn't be a bad girl, you're suddenly a good girl? I don't know. Do you like this? Do you like when I'm so fuckin' rough with you that you don't know what to do? Hm? I know you like it. I can feel you dripping on my fucking fingers."

He pulled his fingers out and brought them to your mouth. "Suck my fingers, baby. Taste what jealousy tastes like, you little bitch. Yeah, my needy little bitch loves how jealousy tastes, don't you? Huh?"

You moaned against his fingers as he pressed them down against your tongue, your eyes rolling back in your head. "Fuck, you're such a good little slut. Look at you. Such a good girl ... but only when I'm disciplining you. Why is that, do you think? Do you think it's because you like getting spanked? You like being treated like a little baby? You like being my little baby? Yeah, you fuckin' sure do."

Draken pulled you up from the bed and sat you in his lap. He looked around your shoulder and assessed the damage he'd inflicted to your ass, letting out a low whistle. "So, so pretty for me." He smoothed his hands over your heated skin. "But maybe next time I'll make sure that it's a little less ... hm. What do you think, baby?" He asked you, yanking your hair to the side and biting your neck. "What do you think?"

You looked at him with big eyes, pleading with him for more, and he just chuckled. "No, I don't think so, princess. You need to remember who you belong to. And I think that's been established. And now it's time for me to make you cum ... or not. I don't know yet. We'll just have to see where the fuck takes us." He flipped you onto your back and buried his face between your legs, licking and sucking on your clit until you were moaning his name.

"Good girl. Good baby. You taste so good. I could eat you forever and ever and never get tired of it." He licked your slit and you felt yourself start to fall apart. "Whose girl are you, now? Whose good girl are you? Say it, say my fuckin' name, princess. Say it!"

You moaned out his name in the most slutty, absolutely fucked voice he had ever heard from you. He smiled into your cunt, though you'd never know that. He couldn't have you knowing that.

"Cum for me, baby. Cum for me! RIGHT FUCKING NOW!!! Show me how much you love me! Show me how much you know you belong to me!" He stuck his tongue inside your pussy and flicked it in and out and you couldn't hold on anymore. You came against his face, screaming his name as your body convulsed in pleasure.

He sat up, licking the mess you left away from his face and clenched his jaw, and he nodded as he patted your still twitching cunt.

"Such a good girl. My good girl. Open your mouth, brat. Stick your tongue out." He spit on your tongue and you swallowed it without even being told to. "MY. GOOD. GIRL. Don't you fuckin' forget it."

[scoops-aboy86]

Hot & Heavy

Prompt Used: Back to school shopping (@thehairandthebanished) and service dom (@steddiesmuttyseptember) | Hot & Heavy | Rating: E | CW: weight gain, feeding kink, outgrown clothes, humiliation kink, dom/sub dynamics | Additional Tags: chubby Eddie Munson, feeder Steve Harrington, semi-public sex, anal fingering, anal plug, spit kink, spit as lube

also on A03

“It’s stupid,” Eddie whines. “I’ve done senior year twice already, what the fuck use is a third round going to do?”

Steve just sits patiently on the other side of his parents’ couch, an eyebrow raised and twirling his keys on one finger. Every once in a while he gives them a little toss and catches them again without even looking, then goes back to spinning. 

Eddie scowls and crosses his arms over his chest, ignoring how this makes his shirt ride up a bit more than it had been already. “Don’t look at me like that.”

A shrug, and another little toss. “I’m not looking at you like anything. Just wondering why you signed yourself up if you didn’t want to go.”

Which hits a little too close to home, because yeah, Eddie had done that. Uncle Wayne wouldn’t judge him for getting his GED instead. It’s his own personal crusade, and he does want to, he just…

“I need new pants,” Eddie admits in something that’s half grumble, half whine.

And he knows, he knows it’s his own fault. He’s spent the whole summer coasting on Steve’s generosity, ever since skulking outside during the second graduation he hadn’t been allowed to partake in had sent Steve, ducking out of a gym full of happy families congratsing their grads, stumbling right into him. Eddie hadn’t graduated and Steve’s parents hadn’t shown, off on some indefinite business trip or something, so they’d decided to be miserable together. At least the Harringtons had sent their only kid a cake, and after sharing a couple joints Steve hadn’t had any qualms about letting Eddie go to town on it. 

They’d kept spending time together after that. Around the time they’d started making out whenever they got bored, Eddie opted to take a break from most of his dealing to hang out either at Steve’s air conditioned house or the cool (if slightly sticky) parlor of Scoops Ahoy. And the more they made out, the more sweet treats Steve offered him. All kinds of food really. It had gone to Eddie’s head in a way he’d never expected because, before, he’d always eaten as a means to get by. Steve opened his eyes to enjoying food, the flavors and the textures and savoring it all as he chewed, and when Eddie got going like that he didn't want to stop. Even when he physically couldn’t bring himself to eat more, he still asked for it; asked for Steve to feed it to him, to push at the boundaries of too much for him while Eddie’s mind went fuzzy with static and sensory-dominating fullness, finally quiet instead of spinning at a hundred miles per hour. Sometimes he’d doze off, and Steve would just let him sleep there, on the couch at first then more and more often in his bed. Always with a snack ready for when he woke up. 

It shows on his waistline, his arms and legs, and in the roundness of his face. Absolutely none of the weight has gone to his ass, he’s still flat as a pancake back there. None of this bothers him, exactly, but the problem remains; he barely fits into his jeans anymore. Even when he does squeeze into them they bite, and the hair tie holding the button in the vicinity of the hole it should fit into is barely cutting it anymore. 

“Eds,” Steve says, still annoyingly patient, “you need more than just new pants.”

Eddie huffs, resisting the impulse to look down at himself. Doesn’t need to know exactly how much of his belly (which took the brunt of his gain, in lieu of his ass) is showing out the bottom of his shirt to know that he feels an indecent amount of draft down there where it juts out over his lap. 

“Even your shoes don’t fit,” Steve adds, not unkindly. 

“Yeah, well.” Now Eddie is resisting the urge to stamp his foot and pout, but that’s too dramatic even for him. “I can’t afford to get new ones, alright?”

Steve finally stops spinning his keys with a pointed look. “So let me help you out, man.”

“I’m not letting you take me shopping, Steve.”

~

A few days later, Eddie lets Steve take him shopping. 

But they talk it out a lot, first. Because Steve, despite his former monarch status at Hawkins High, has never strong-armed him into anything—insists it’s impossible to do so, in fact, and Eddie appreciates that. Autonomy is very important to him. 

To a point. Which is why they had so much to talk about. 

As they pull up at a mall a few hours drive away from Hawkins, Eddie starts brushing the wrappers from the last road trip fast food stop onto the floor and attempting to wipe the remaining burger grease from between his fingers and the corners of his mouth. He hefts himself out of the Beemer’s passenger seat with a stifled belch and a shower of the little slivers of fries that were small enough to fall unnoticed while he was eating. Doesn’t even blink, just kicks the car door shut behind him and follows Steve’s lead inside. He’s full enough that he drifts along behind a little sluggishly, damp with sweat by the time they get there and grateful for the blast of air conditioning as soon as they do. 

“Shoes first,” Steve announces, and steers him in the direction of the nearest shoe store. 

Getting off his feet is already a relief. Eddie pays very little attention as Steve talks to the salesman, preoccupied with resetting his bloated belly over his straining waistband and studded belt that’s on its very last notch. (It’s less comfortable than the hair tie, but that had snapped while he was getting dressed, so.) 

They’re just here for sneakers, in a wide size. All he needs to do is sit back on the padded bench and put his feet where directed. First, to measure. Then to try on a few different pairs, although… 

Steve provides commentary on how they look, because Eddie can’t really see them once they’re on. Not without bending over further than he cares to on a still-full stomach. But he provides feedback on how they feel—whether the support is any good, if they punch in the toe or beneath the laces, that sort of thing—and that’s enough. Every time he has to walk to test them for fit and comfort in action, he shoots Steve a petulant look for help and Steve lends him a hand getting up. It’s part of the game they’re playing: Eddie gets to see Steve’s biceps flex, and Steve gets to feel the weight he’s been so instrumental in piling onto Eddie’s once scrawny frame; it’s a win-win. 

They leave the store with a box tucked under Steve’s arm and comfy new sneakers on Eddie’s feet. 

Next is the record store. It’s a chain, but they have a decent selection of new and used band shirts. Eddie once again finds somewhere to sit while Steve browses for him, knowing his favorite bands well enough by now to come back with plenty of decent options in his size. The one drawback of all Eddie’s recent indulgence is that, eventually, typical merch simply won’t be big enough to fit… but he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it. Denim vests come in all sorts of sizes, so he can always make a new battle jacket if need be.

“Do I have to pick?” he whines, and Steve just smiles indulgently and buys them all. 

~

Finally, they arrive at the department store. 

By now Eddie is a little more tuned in. He starts to notice people glancing at him—which he’s used to, really, as the resident Freak of Hawkins. Only, none of these strangers are staring because of his long unruly hair or his dark, ripped clothes and Dio splashed across his back. No, now people stare because he’s gotten fat, yet still has the audacity to go out in public with his shirt riding up his jiggling belly, deep navel on display beneath the straining fabric and the hang of his gut hiding the way his fly won’t stay zipped even with the belt. There’s something about the judgment in their eyes that hits different from just being seen as a nerd, Satanist, and trailer trash super senior. Eddie tugs fruitlessly at the bottom of his shirt just to make sure, just to make them fully aware of how poorly it fits, and feels himself start to chub up in his already uncomfortable jeans. His hand slips down to cup the bottom of his belly so it doesn’t wobble as much as he picks up the pace to keep up with Steve, reveling in its plush, pliable weight. 

How many of those watching right now can see his cheeks heat, notice him bite his bottom lip, and wonder in disgust if he’s thinking about more food?

… Well, now he is. God, the food court after all this walking around and sitting down and getting up is going to be so—

“What do you think of these?” Steve asks, waving at a display of jeans that to Eddie’s distracted eye all look pretty much the same. 

“They’re alright,” he mumbles. Taking the opportunity to stand still, he absently runs his hand back and forth along the curve of his belly, back and forth, kneading gently. It lulls away the sting of the embarrassment, leaving only his pleased flush at the attention. 

Steve picks a few things up and they move on. 

A store clerk approaches them with a simpering smile—no, approaches Steve. She’s ignoring Eddie like the elephant in the room. “Can I help you with anything, sir? I can get a changing room set up for you, if you’d like.”

And Eddie gets it. Objectively, he gets it. Steve is bonkers hot. But, he is smugly aware, this twig-shaped girl is merely a passing curiosity at best; Steve likes his partners (likes Eddie, and Jesus H. Christ isn't that still a heady thought) insatiable and demanding, not demure and easily impressed. The time when he felt self-conscious about their relationship, when he worried that Steve was just a confused straight boy who would go back to girls with their curves and small hands and baby-soft skin after a while, is long past. 

Partly because now he has those things too, except for the small hands, but mostly because like has recognized like. 

So when Steve replies, “Oh, this isn’t for me, it’s for him. But yeah, could you get us a changing room? My buddy here has some mobility issues so I’m here to help him out,” and winks at the girl, Eddie doesn’t even blink. From the looks of it, Steve is going to leave the store with her number. Eddie, feeling her gaze slide critically over him and linger on the way he’s bulging out of his clothes even at the sleeves and between the rips in his jeans, already knows she’s never going to get a call. 

~

The changing room is a bit cramped. Eddie stands by the mirror with one hand on the wall for balance as he steps on the heels of his new shoes to wiggle out of them while scowling at the only place to sit in the changing room: a chair with fucking armrests, way too narrow to squeeze his doughy hips between comfortably. Not when he’d have to get up again pretty soon after, anyway. 

It’s as thrilling as it is irritating. The amount of weight he’s put on in a single blur of summer indulgences still catches him by surprise sometimes. Half of it is probably from s’mores marathons they’d had in Steve’s back yard, which… Yeah, he wouldn’t give those memories up for anything. 

But at the moment, man is this annoying. 

“You’d think they could’ve just installed a bench, but nooo,” he grumbles. He gets the shoes off and leans back against the wall. “Whew. Mind helping me with my belt here?”

“Uh-huh,” Steve replies in a casual voice, for the sake of anyone who might be listening. His eyes are fixed on Eddie’s middle though, going smoothly to his knees with both hands already reaching. It’s cinched so tight that he has to grab both ends and pull them closer to get the buckle loose, compressing Eddie’s belly enough that he has to stifle a burp, then bite back a moan as the belt comes undone in Steve’s big hands and his belly drops with a noticeable bounce.

When Steve holds the belt up to show him, the last hole is so stretched it’s a miracle the thing had held. Eddie had noticed it creaking when standing and sitting in the shoe store, but he hadn’t thought it was that serious. And kind of doesn’t now either, with Steve still kneeling at his feet and peeling his outgrown jeans down. 

“Step,” Steve murmurs, tapping his calf over the crumpled denim. While Eddie extracts himself from his pants, he pops back to his feet with his hands still out, fingertips skimming up the sides of Eddie’s legs to settle on his exposed love handles and kneading rhythmically. “Need anything else?”

A number of lewd things he could ask for flit across Eddie’s mind, including with the impulse to ask for a pre-lunch snack—but they have a plan and he’d like to stick to that. So he shakes his head, and Steve retreats to the chair and settles in. Spreads his legs as wide as the armrests allow and puts a hand casually over the fly of his jeans, brazen in the way he adjusts himself while flashing Eddie an eager smile.  

Eddie licks his lips but tears his gaze away, focusing on the clothes hanging just inside the door. They’re already sorted, pants and shirts paired into outfits of his boyfriend’s choosing, which. Okay. He can do this. 

First is a pair of slacks and one of the button-down shirts. And they don’t fit at all. 

“Steve,” Eddie complains, struggling to try and get at least one button on the shirt fastened. He’d given up on the pants already, a little winded from all the jumping and wiggling as he tried without success to get them anywhere past where they strained obscenely over his thighs, and just left them there. It feels like he’s hogtied from the knees down. “Did you even look at the sizes when you picked these out?” His own body blocks most of the view in the mirror, but when he stands off-center just so he can see the way Steve is staring. It only lasts a second but he could swear—

“Try the next one, then,” Steve suggests, voice rough, and he is. He’s already touching himself. 

Jesus H. Christ. 

But the biggest thing confronting Eddie in the mirror is, obviously, himself. His eyes linger on his curves, the bulges where he all but explodes out of the clothes’ attempt to restrain him. Already flushed from all the walking and attention he’d garnered on his way to the dressing room, and now the attempt to get the clothes on, he realizes that it’s about to be a struggle to get them back off and suddenly feels even warmer. All over, but especially where Steve’s eyes rove over his ample backside—because his ass may be flat, but it’s gotten wide from all the time he’s spent parked on it lately. 

Because that’s a thing Eddie gets to have now: a doting boyfriend, who feeds him out of his clothes and then takes him shopping. 

He bites his lip and starts shrugging the shirt off, wiggling his hips to shift the pants from where they’re boa constrictor tight around his legs. Unable to shift his eyes from the mirror as he watches himself, the way his body shakes and bounces in new ways. And, like, fitting room mirrors aren’t flattering for anyone, but he looks big. Barely fits in the frame, especially when he turns fully to the side to grab the next outfit lined up for him. 

This one is a little better. Chinos that seem absolutely huge until he gets them on and realizes they don’t button over his lower belly; he has to lift it up and button them with one hand with a grunt, blushing hard as he hears Steve hum approvingly in the background. But the next hanger, a Black Sabbath shirt that Eddie actually really likes, doesn’t even come close. 

“Steve,” Eddie whines this time, trying to keep his voice down because they are kind of in public but fuck, the fact that his boyfriend is doing this to him on purpose is making really him squirm. He turns around with his hands on his hips, fully aware that he looks like he’s wearing a goddamn crop top the way his belly pushes up the shirt. 

“Eddie,” Steve teases back. He does a good job of not sounding breathless, but even if the urgency of how he’s fondling himself through his jeans didn’t give him away, the rapidly shrinking slivers of hazel around his blown pupils would. “Is there a problem?”

What’s Eddie supposed to say to that? As much as part of him wants Steve to play fair, get him things that he can actually put on without feeling every additional, quivering inch of himself so they can buy some damn clothes and move on to lunch, he can’t ignore the way it's making his blood rush south. 

So instead of focusing on fair—which, clearly, his dick could not care less about from the way it’s threatening the integrity of these chinos—he makes the world’s most ineffective attempt at pulling the shirt up and pouts. “I need help.”

And once again, those magic words make Steve light up. 

~

So, here’s the thing. Eddie has been to Indy. He’s done things in bathrooms at gay clubs with complete strangers, gotten his rocks off, and gone right back out onto the dance floor after. Yeah it felt like something was lacking, a little bit lukewarm even when the sex was good… but he’d always figured that was just part of the package when you had a sexuality that could get you run out of town if the wrong people found out. 

Nope. Incorrect. Or maybe that was it for some people, but Eddie has only recently figured out what the missing piece always was. 

Because right now, he feels like he’s on fire. 

“How’s this one fit?” Steve asks, and Eddie doesn’t know how the fuck he can sound so normal. So unaffected that he might actually be helping his fat friend struggle out of one article of clothing to the next, instead of what he’s actually doing, which is sliding a second finger into Eddie’s ass beside the first. 

“It’s, ah, it’s good,” Eddie gasps. He’s breathing hard, but he kind of was even when he really was still trying on clothes. It’s a good thing the changing room walls go all the way down to the floor because otherwise it would be way too obvious from outside that he’s on his hands and knees, biting his knuckles whenever Steve plays Morse fucking code on the bundle of nerves deep inside. “I think, ha, this one’s a winner, definitely. Put it in the keep pile for me.”

“Sure, man.” Behind him, Steve lets a gob of saliva drop silently from his mouth, adding more wet to his fingers and Eddie’s hole. 

Eddie is going to leave teeth marks on his entire fist at this rate. His mind is swirling around the proverbial drain, close to dropping out completely, eyes squeezed shut in a desperate attempt not to forget himself. But he can’t resist rocking back, angling his hips as he tries to get more. Steve moves with him, the bastard, but the underside of his belly rubs over his cock as it sways with the motion and the extra stimulation makes him jerk and that, that nearly makes him moan out loud. He doesn’t, though; they’re going to get away with this. 

It’s cleaner here by far than any bathroom he’d ever encountered in Indy but Eddie has never felt more dirty in his entire life, and it feels so. Fucking. Good. 

~

Before they leave the changing room, Steve dresses Eddie in new everything. Boxers from one of those economy packs that come with five pairs, because his old ones are… yeah. New Judas Priest shirt. Black jeans that don’t have any rips in them yet. Socks from similar plastic packaging because the ones he came in with have holes. Steve, kneeling at his feet, pulls those on for him and then gets his shoes on and tied one by one. 

Eddie lets him, feeling like his insides have been liquefied into honey. Or something thick and slow, anyway. Sticky and sweet. He licks his lips absently and watches the top of Steve’s head because he doesn’t want to lean forward enough to watch his hands, but can’t think of anything worth watching besides this perfect man whose eyes, when he meets Eddie’s gaze, are burning with the ‘you’re so fucking hot’ he doesn't dare say out loud right now, still riding that thrill of getting away with this in a public place. Who’d just played out the scene Eddie had asked for to glorious perfection.

There’s one thing Steve improved on, though. He feels it with every step as they head for the register, Eddie a few steps behind with a dopey expression on his face: the constant reminder of the plug in his ass. 

In a perfect world it would be there to keep Steve’s come inside him, but that would’ve been too risky. No, his sweet boy had spit on him again after he’d come into the ratty boxers now shoved deep in one of his new pockets, pushed it into Eddie’s lax hole with his thumb, and offered the plug shyly—as if there had ever been any chance of Eddie turning it down. It’s keeping him ready for when they get home. 

“So,” Steve says as they leave the store, glancing at him with a knowing grin, “you still up for the food court?”

Eddie smiles back at him serenely and pats his stomach, which  isn’t empty, exactly, but isn’t full anymore either. He could eat. 

“Always, baby. Lead the way.”

Permanent tag list (if anyone wants on or off, let me know): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @irishvampireboy @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

[pastanest]

A/N: you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @bakedcrispss - thanks so much!! ♡

a gif of Daryl looking down at us to set the mood ⤵️

Daryl x Short!Reader

- let’s start with how you met

- so Daryl was out on a hunt when he heard some commotion, something was moving fast towards him and just as he realised which direction the sound was coming from, you quite literally ran into him

- and when you ran into him, you bounced back and fell right on your ass, while Daryl just scowled down at you

- so there you were, staring up at him

- and then you stood up, and there you were, still staring up at him

“Sum’ followin’ you?” Daryl asked, glancing off in the direction you’d ran from.

“Only dead ones, but my knife broke so I had to run to get them off my trail. Sorry about running into you.” The apology was awkward, but Daryl just nodded.

- he considered correcting you, sarcastically saying he should be the one apologising since he was apparently in your way and knocked you over, but he thought it was too soon for a dig at your height

- Daryl waited a few seconds to see if he could hear any walkers coming after you, and when he couldnt, he skulked off

- much to his surprise, you followed him, and he found that he could barely hear you creeping up behind him because of your lack of height and therefore heavy steps

“So, what’s your name?” You asked, definitely taking Daryl by surprise, but he hid it well.

“Daryl.” He answered shortly. haha y’all see what I did there

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Daryl! Im (Y/N). Do you have a group or a place to stay? ‘Cause if not, there’s logically a better chance of us surviving if we stick together.”

- he didnt want anyone following him, much less someone who didnt even see a man directly in front of them that they then ran into. he didnt even know if you could handle yourself. Daryl assumed that what you really meant was you were more likely to survive sticking with him because he’d save your ass

“Got a group an’ a place.” He said, hoping to throw you off, but he quickly realised his own mistake.

“Oh, that’s great! Do you, uh...maybe have room for one more?”

- have room? Daryl had to hold back a laugh, you could live comfortably in the average sized closet and you were asking if his group had room for you?? he, again, refrained from making such comments, and decided to stay professional

“How many walkers you killed?”

“Havent kept count, but some. I can usually sneak away from them, Im pretty good at getting into small hiding places.”

- Daryl looked down at you, struggling to tell whether you were insecure about your height and whether making jokes would be okay, or whether you would get insulted and sad and think your height a weakness

- in response, you rolled your eyes

“Daryl, do you really think I’ve gone my entire life blissfully unaware of being a short-ass? It’s not something I can change, so I work with what I’ve got, but sometimes I run into dudes and knock myself on my ass.”

- and much to Daryl’s absolute shock, that last part made him laugh

“That a regular hobby o’ yers?” He teased.

“Oh yeah, try to squeeze a collision in at least once a month.” You replied with a grin.

- and so your friendship was established

- when the two of you got back to the prison, you saw the people at the gate and in the guard tower and sighed because you knew from a distance they’d think Daryl had brought back a kid

- still, the small group that greeted you were welcoming enough. Maggie and Glenn were both very sweet, and as was Rick, but you’re certain you werent the only one to notice that his teenage son Carl was almost the same height as you

- you fit into the prison nicely, offering to help out wherever you could and getting to know as many people as possible. Daryl was fascinated by how easily you seemed to make friends, especially since you made friends with him in a matter of seconds

- Daryl was your favourite person to hang out with, you loved asking him questions and finding out things about him. he was far from the most open person when it came to talking about himself, but when you’d stroll over and sit on his bike, kicking your legs in the air because you couldnt reach the ground and giving him that damn smile, Daryl found it increasingly difficult to resist giving you anything and everything you wanted

- he definitely had a soft spot for you, and at first he hated that

- you’d wave at him when he was up in the guard tower and before he could even consider his own response, he would be waving back at you with a stupid smile on his face like some friendly dumbass

- one time Rick was coming up behind you and caught sight of the way Daryl waved at you, so Rick waved up at him to tease him and Daryl flipped him off

- once you’d earned the group’s trust, it was difficult for them not to notice how useful your lack of height could be in certain situations

- whenever one of the kids got a toy stuck in an inconveniently tight space, you would be the adult they summoned

- but equally, when the group found a decently large herd of walkers that they wanted to lead away from the prison, they looked to you as the first person to run by them and get to the other side of the herd, because you were the least likely to be spotted

“Naw, ‘s not happenin’.” Daryl shook his head, and Rick sighed.

“It’s the smartest play, you know it is.”

You nodded. “Yeah, and I’ve got no problem with it. At the start if this thing, all I did was run and hide, it’s what Im good at.”

- Daryl scoffed and stormed off, not even slightly onboard with you being the one in the most dangerous position of that whole thing. he knew it was the best option, but he would rather anybody else took that job and you stayed home. Daryl couldnt understand why he was so angry at the thought of you being in danger, but worst of all...when had he started referring to the prison as ‘home’?

- obviously, you ran after the big bad angry crossbowman, and soon enough you were walking at his side

“Why have you always gotta walk so fast?! Takes a lot for these little legs to keep up, y’know!”

- a small smile curled at the corner of Daryl’s mouth, and you nudged him playfully

“That’s better. Now, you wanna tell me what that was all about?”

- Daryl shrugged, having never been one to put his feelings into words without Merle calling him a pussy before he’d even opened his mouth, but you wouldnt do that to him, Daryl knew that, so he tried

“Jus’ don’...don’ want you t’ be in danger.” He managed, and your eyes softened as they stared up at him.

“Daryl, you’ll be on the other side of the street-“

He cut you off by shaking his head. “Ain’ enough. Sum’ could still happen.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can handle myself.”

Daryl was quiet for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, and he decided to test the water.

“Ain’ much t’ handle.”

- you were silent, and Daryl immediately regretted what he’d said. you stopped walking, and he turned to look at you, trying to piece together your reaction from how wide your eyes were

“Was that...a short joke?”

- Daryl could only nod, very quickly realising that this was neither the time nor the place to make a joke, the mood was completely off and he couldnt explain why he decided to do it if he tried

- but then, you burst out laughing

- once you’d calmed down, you explained to Daryl that you heard every short joke in existence throughout school, but once you became an adult the jokes died out, in the workplace it wasnt professional or whatever. but you missed the jokes even then, and when the world changed, there were even less of them. it had been years since anyone had made an actual joke about your height

- so, Daryl made it his mission to make playful jokes about it whenever he could after that

“Anyone seen (Y/N)?” He’d ask when you were standing right in front of him, he’d look over your head and pretend to look around for you until he couldnt resist glancing down at you and laughing.

“Rain’s eased up, gonna go out on a hunt, it’s hot out there now. But how’s the weather down there?” Of course, Daryl Dixon found a way to incorporate the classics.

“Best stay behin’ me, cant promise I wont think yer a mouse out there an’ shoot ya by mistake.” He teased whenever you walked next to him on a hunt.

“Daryl, I swear, I will spin your jaw if you dont shut up.” You’d say, and Daryl would smirk.

“If ya can reach.”

And you’d sigh. “Fine, I’ll just bite your ankles.”

“Sure ya can reach those?” Daryl would answer effortlessly, knowing he could continue forever.

“Daryl I SWEAR-“ You’d yell, and he’d burst out laughing.

- anytime anyone around you used the words “little”, “small”, “shorter”, Daryl found a way to spin it on you

“We should take this road, it’d be shorter-“ Rick began, and then he closed his eyes in a pained blink, waiting for what he knew was coming.

Daryl smirked, diverting his gaze from the map on the hood of the car and glancing down at you beside him.

“Shorter, huh. Remin’s me o’ someone.”

- anytime anyone asked anyone “what’s up” you could guarantee that from somewhere else in the prison, you would hear Daryl Dixon yell out “NOT (Y/N)!”

- secretly he found your lack of height to be very endearing, the way you looked up at him was adorable, the ease with which you could jump on his back at anytime for a piggyback ride without fatally wounding him, the fact that the cliché short-problem of having to ask someone else to reach stuff for you and Daryl usually being the closest person for you to ask. he loved it, and he made sure to remind you with a series of cute height-related petnames

“‘ey, mouse, c’mon, aint got all day.”

“Been lookin’ all over for you, li’l one, where ya been?”

“Listen, small person, ya better ease up on that tone with me.”

- later on when your relationship progressed, Daryl introduced the petname of “doll” cuz thinks you’re small and cute like a doll, but he only uses that petname in softer moments between you, like if you’re upset or he’s tired

- and he didnt see your height as a weakness either. once you’d joined him for a few hunts, Daryl could see that you really could handle yourself, you were a strong fighter, he had no doubts there. but he couldnt help worrying that you were just a little more fragile because of how small you were, it was a natural worry to have, all things considered, and you loved his protectiveness of you, so you definitely werent complaining

- the only problem with Daryl’s protectiveness was that it extended to him wanting to beat the shit out of anyone else who joked about your height

- Rick, Maggie, Beth, Hershel, Glenn, Carol, Michonne- the entire core group as well as Tyereese because he’s a fkin unit, they were all allowed to make fun of your height, but anyone else who tried had a death wish

- sometimes new arrivals would be stupid enough to voice their opinions on you being inferior and incapable because of your height when Daryl was nearby. they’d joke about wondering how you made it this far, assuming you’d been living safely since the start otherwise you wouldnt have made it, assuming everyone around you needed to protect you because you were a liability

- and Daryl would be there in an instant

“The hell’d you just say?!” He’d growl from your side.

“Anyone built like that cant even reach the top shelf, let alone survive in a world like this! It’s survival of the fittest, plain and simple!” The idiot would be stupid enough to say, laughing through his own explanation.

And then Daryl would knock him to the ground a lot less playfully than he knocked you to the ground on the day you met, he’d be on top of the idiot and punching him until someone (usually Rick) pulled him off.

You’d be there right away, standing on your tiptoes to hold Daryl’s face in your hands and calm him down. He’d rest his forehead against yours and ask if you were alright, if the idiot had hurt your feelings ‘cause “if he did I’ll go right back over there an-“ and you’d say no. You’d take him back to your cell and clean up his split knuckles while Daryl just watched you, utterly mesmerised.

And then you’d sit on his lap, his arms wrapping around you without him having to think about it.

“What would I do without you?” The question would pass your lips quietly, as though truly bewildered by wondering what life would be like without Daryl in it.

“Hear a lot less jokes.” He’d reply, his voice rumbling in his chest, you’d feel it through his shirt, against your palm.

You’d laugh, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “And be a lot leas happy.”