#hog-goblin

[mothxart]

✦ Good morning Nnk fandom ✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Small Creatures . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[exgirlfiend]

this is old art but I don’t think I ever posted it. warmup page I did using a random number generator to give me familiars

[honkowo]

got bored at work & instead of working on npc statsheets that im gonna need ASAP!!!! i instead spec-bio'd a goblin + others family tree (might do these digitally when i get home but i dunno yet lol)

1st pic is a goblinoid(group name 4 goblins hobgoblins & orcs) common ancestor, 2nd 3rd & 4th pics r goblin, hobgoblin & orc fullbodies i did 2 figure out their proportions(will prolly fuck w them later since they need a bit more tweaking), 5th pic is of an oni(hybrid subspecies of orc and tiefling that became its own thing), & lastly my initial brainstorming page👍

[entering--hyperspace]

Was thinking abt charr sleeping positions, then thought about how Rytlock seems like he’d be a grabber in his sleep

[gelatinousace]

Goblins my beloved???

There's just something so fun about drawing goblins, the big eyes, humongous ears, the chaos they radiate

[abigailspinach]

[tidy-tearfairy]

Scrolls of truth can you please just fucking reveal yourselves to me

[yukaentanga]

[homunculus-argument]

Character dynamic: a quiet, stoic and reserved one who is constantly either apologising on their friend's behalf, or 100% down to fight whoever the same friend just pissed off - ride or die, no matter what.

and an absolute chaos goblin who can and will start shit with anyone or somehow manage to find entirely new and novel kinds of trouble just by stirring a soup incorrectly.

The truth is, the quiet and reserved one fucking loves drama but is simply too naturally composed to ever come across any of their own. So they bring the chaos friend along specifically to find some, like a truffle-seeking hog.

[prythiansprincess]

if u have time could u do theo taking care of a drunk reader?? thank u sm ❤️

here (in your arms).

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: here (in your arms) by hellogoodbye.

author's note: in a soft fluffy theo mood. don't text.

The boisterous sounds coming from the common room party filtered through the empty corridor of the boy's dormitories, making you sway to the beat of the music as you lifted your fist to the door. You rapped against the wood three times—your signature knock to let your best friend know that it was you on the other side.

You stepped back as the door swung open, revealing a disoriented Theo. His ruffled hair flopped over his eyes, the brown waves slightly flat on the right side, which you knew was his preferred side to sleep on. A twinge of guilt tugged at your heart as you watched the sleepy boy before you, his Chudley Cannons sweatshirt and light grey lounge pants indicating that you had probably interrupted his slumber. A rarity, given that your best friend suffered from insomnia more often than not.

Rubbing his eyes, Theo adjusted to the darkness of the hallway and glanced down at you. In your tiny little dress, you shivered in the cool air of the dungeons, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to chase away the goosebumps.

"Hi Teddy," you whispered. "Did I wake you?"

"You did, but I don't mind." Theo said softly, rubbing up and down your arms to provide some much needed warmth. "What are you doing still up?"

"Pans convinced me to play another round of beer pong," you confessed. "You should have seen us. We obliterated the boys. Malfoy threw a fit."

The silly giggle that you covered behind your hand made Theo smile. If your constant swaying wasn't enough of an indication that you were currently inebriated, the deep red flush on your cheeks, neck, and arms told Theo all that he needed to know. You were absolutely sloshed.

"I'm sorry I missed it, dolcezza." When your body temperature refused to thaw, Theo shrugged off his jumper. For a brief moment, you caught a glimpse of his toned stomach, his olive skin glimmering in the dim lighting. You bit your lip, averting Theo's gaze. Luckily, he was too preoccupied with pulling the jumper over your head to notice. "Come in, let's get you warm, yeah?"

"Mmkay," you murmured in agreement. You trailed behind Theo, almost knocking into the doorway until he laced his fingers through yours, guiding you inside his dorm.

"There's a door there, amorina."

"Don't make fun, Teddy." You huffed, pouting as you followed closely behind. "Your room's too dark. How can you even see anything in here?"

Theo chuckled. "Sure, let's blame the lack of light instead of the fact that you're smashed."

"Am not," you countered, plopping onto Theo's large, plush bed. "I'm perfectly sober, thank you very much."

"Fine. Then who was the Minister of Magic during the Goblin Rebellion in 1752?"

"There were two ministers at the time. Boot was in office first, then he resigned due to mismanagement. Basil Flack replaced him." You smirked at your best friend, feeling rather smug. "Just because I'm bevvied doesn't mean that you'll catch me lacking, Theodore."

Theo raised a brow. "So you admit you're drunk?"

"You tricked me!"

"Guilty as charged." Theo admitted, plopping down right next to you. "So, did you bail on the party just to hog my bed?"

"It's not my fault that yours is much more comfier than mine," you mumbled, cocooning yourself underneath his comforters. "Plus, the party wasn't as fun without you there. I needed my partner in crime."

"I thought you'd be glad that I studied for the History of Magic exam instead of getting shitfaced. You're the one always telling me off about partying too much."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually listen."

"It's you," Theo said with a smile. "Of course I listened."

"I never thought I'd live to see the day when Theodore Nott is more responsible than me."

A smile tugged at your best friend's lips. "Well, one of us has to be. You're a mess, Y/N," he teased. "But you're my mess."

"As if that's not the pot calling the kettle black."

Theo chuckled as you buried yourself in his blankets, hiding from him entirely. He snuck underneath the covers and scooted closer until you were face to face.

"Hello," Theo whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist. He buried his face in the crook of your neck and hugged you liked he hadn't seen you all week. "I've missed you quite terribly."

"It's only been a few hours, Teddy." You replied, giggling as you brushed his hair back. It was getting so long, but you loved how soft and fluffy his locks felt as you ran your fingers through it.

"Says the girl who snuck into the boy's dorms to see me."

"Okay, so maybe I missed you too."

"That's what I thought."

You stayed intertwined for a moment, your hearts beating in sync as you clung onto one another. When you yawned, Theo patted your leg. "Come on, love. Let's get you ready for bed."

"But I'm already comfy," you whined, burying your face in his chest.

"I know, amorina. But you'll feel so much better after you've washed your face." You pouted in response. "I promise I'll make it quick. Then we can cuddle, okay?"

You nodded. "Okay, Teddy."

Theo smiled before giving you a piggyback ride to his private bathroom. Setting you down on the counter, he pulled out the makeup wipes that he kept in the drawer for this exact reason. You swung your legs in the air as he wiped the foundation off your face. With his brows furrowed and his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth, you'd never seen Theo so concentrated.

You grinned and pinched his cheek. "You're so cute when you're focused."

He quirked a brow as he helped you wash off the remnants. "Only when I'm focused?"

"No, you're cute all the time. It's infuriating." You lamented as Theo patted your face with a face cloth. He hummed, spreading serums and moisturizers on your skin like he'd seen you do a thousand times over.

"Oh? Care to share?"

"Hmm," you hummed, leaning into his touch. "I think it's cute when you hook our pinkies together in the hallway so I don't get overwhelmed by the crowd. Or when you get crumbs all over your face and grin like a little kid when I catch you raiding my cookie stash. Or how your eyes light up when we're watching the stars at night."

"You noticed all of that?" Theo asked softly.

"It's you," you answered, mirroring his words from earlier. "Of course I noticed."

The shy smile on his face made your heart flutter. "For the record, I think you're cute too. I think you're the cutest girl I've ever seen in my entire life."

"Sounds like you have a crush on me, Teddy."

"I have for the past six years. Thanks for finally noticing," he said with a chuckle.

You groaned, burying your face into his neck. "Don't say that to me when I'm drunk. What if I don't remember it tomorrow?"

Theo kissed the top of your head and carried you off to bed. "Then I guess I'll just have to remind you in the morning, love."

With a grin, you kissed the tip of his nose. "Thanks for taking care of me, Teddy."

Theo smiled. It was so beautiful that your heart ached to bear witness to it. As he tucked you into bed and wrapped his arms around you, the boy that you loved pressed a kiss to your temple and spoke a promise into the night.

"I'll always take care of you, Y/N."

Taglist: @annaisabookworm @marina468 @yaraasthings @the0doreslover @bubybubsters @moony-artemis @natasha887 @lucyysthings @criesinlies @bunnymallowo @niktwazny303 @letmedownslows @siriuslyalovergirl @wordsarelife @clairesjointshurt @daydreamingabthar

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

just a little something for the darling @yournowheregirl to wake up to! it sounds kinda dumb and insignificant, but i always appreciate your tags in the fun tag games that come across your dash and for always being one of the first that ask something from those ‘ask me’ posts i reblog! it makes me feel appreciated and i am super grateful every time 🥰🫶🥹

There was meant to be two beds.

Steve specifically got a double king room for the goblins, and another room with two queens for him and Eddie.

So of course as soon as they got into Milwaukee the night before the D&D themed nerd fest, the (actually very nice) woman at the front desk says: “We had to swap around the rooms, but the two will still sleep all you boys, don’t worry!”

Whatever. That’s fine, right? They’ll all have a spot to sleep the next two nights they’re here for the kids’ (and Eddie’s) dragon game convention.

He gets back to their rented minivan and passes the key cards to Eddie in the passenger seat.

The van was just the first point of contention between him and the kids’ beloved Dragon Meister, followed closely by…everything else.

The first thing Eddie said when Steve showed up in the rented van was “King Steve is coming along on our journey?”, to which Steve could only respond with “This ‘super cool’ guy you assholes have been going on about this whole time is Eddie “The Freak” Munson? Really?”

Following closely behind are: the tapes and tapes of loud garbled ‘music’ Eddie insists on playing, his absolutely tragic way of unwrapping Steve’s burgers for him when they stop for lunch, the wariness Steve has in the first place about this being the guy Dustin wouldn’t stop talking so highly about…this nerdy, obnoxious, third-time senior…great.

“204 is the Hellions’ room, 207 is us.”

Eddie bends an arm backwards into the feral beast enclosure the second two rows have become over the last six hours and Steve’s surprised he still has his hand when it returns to the front.

Steve gets the van parked in the hotel’s garage, and they head up to their rooms.

“Alright, assholes,” he says to the somehow still rambunctious masses, “This is you guys, Make sure you’re up by eight so we—“

“Yeah Steve, we got it,” Dustin scoffs, “As if we’d risk being late to this.”

Steve rolls his eyes with a “Fine, goodnight.” and shuffles the few steps across the hall to his and Eddie’s door, leaving the troops to file into theirs.

The only thought in his head is of laying down and getting the fuck to sleep. It wasn’t even that late but—

“Oh you’ve got to be shitting me.”

So that’s what brings them here. To their one barely queen sized bed.

“I guess I’m on the floor then, huh?”

“I’m not about to let you sleep on the floor.”

“Oh, the King has chivalry does he?” Eddie rolls his eyes and throws his duffle onto the armchair in the corner.

“As much as you, asshole; I just want you to have the energy to corral the gremlins tomorrow.” Steve scrubs a hand down his face. “Look, we’ll just deal with it tonight and I’ll get another room tomorrow.” he lies. As if he’s got the cash for that.

Eddie looks him over, and seems to come to whatever conclusion he needs to because he says “Fine, but you better not be a blanket hog.”

Eddie’s the worst blanket hog Steve’s ever had the displeasure of knowing.

He thought Robin was bad, but this is something else.

Eddie’s fully a burrito within an hour of laying down. After a hearty, but silent, game of tug of war over the worn duvet.

Steve falls asleep angry and cold, and wakes up on a cloud.

He’s so warm and so entangled in the comforter, he can’t help but snuggle deeper into the pillow he’s clutched onto.

The pillow hums back at him and scoots itself under his chin with a sigh.

Steve squeezes tighter onto the pillow momentarily, but his curiosity of why his pillow’s making noise gets the better of him.

He cracks his eyes open, looking down at the thing in his arms.

It shifts as well, and Eddie Munson blinks up at him with those (holy shit…beautiful, deep, dark) doe eyes of his.

“Hi.” Steve breathes.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut, and shuffles himself back into Steve’s neck.

Steve chooses to blame the still sleepy bit of him for curving himself back around Eddie.

“How’d you sleep?” Steve whispers into the now-bared hairline under the other man’s bangs.

“Fucking amazing…” Eddie mumbles, snaking an arm over Steve’s waist and settling a hand in the middle of his back. “How ‘bout you, Stevie?”

“Stevie, huh?” Steve chuckles.

It’s only then that Eddie seems to come to his senses, his head shooting up before he scrambles away, falling straight onto his back between the opposite side of the bed and the wall with an “Oof!” and a “Fuck!”

“Oh shit!” Steve shuffles off the bed and helps Eddie back up, ”You alright, Eds?”

“Yeah..yeah, I’m fine..” Steve gets Eddie back on his own two feet and (reluctantly) lets him go once he’s stable.

‘Reluctantly? Why reluctantly? What the hell??’

“Sorry I was all over you, not the greatest thing to wake up to, huh?” Eddie says, huffing a sardonic laugh under his breath.

Steve hums nonchalantly, “It wasn’t all bad, I slept pretty fucking amazing too.”

Eddie hums an acknowledgment, then: “I wouldn’t—“ Eddie starts at the same time Steve says “I should—“

“You go ahead,”

Eddie’s hands come up between them, spinning the rings on his fingers nervously. “I was going to say that…I.. Iwouldn’tmindifyoustayedtonight..too.”

Steve blinks. “Good thing I was going to say that I really should save my money.”

Eddie’s smile is slightly nervous, but there’s a hopeful tinge to it that Steve can only assume means what he thinks it does (hopes it does).

“Leaves me with more to spend on the Gremlins, right?” he shrugs.

Eddie beams. “Glad to know we’re on the same page, Harrington.”

also, if you haven’t heard it recently: Alice, YOU’RE DOING AMAZING SWEETIE 🤩

[gelatinousace]

Meet Mur! (Short for Femur)

Mur is a desert goblin with a penchant for mischief

[girlballs]

sees furry twink ass and my hog starts talking to me like the goblin mask

[keirareidss]

Thursday -> Day Five

the team has a campfire and you say something you don't mean

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader warnings: hurt/comfort wc: 1.8k

The fire burned bright in front of you, tiny embers crackling and floating into the night sky. You imagined they were little pieces of all of you. The bad parts, fabricating into little glowing dots and leaving you with only the happiness you carried with you. Derek and Hotch had built the fire around 5 PM before it had started getting dark and now, the sky was turning a navy blue and there was a chill in the air that made you cuddle closer to Spencer.

You were still in your bathing suit from earlier in the day when you had gone swimming with just the girls, but you had thrown a sheer, white, robe over it as a cover-up. You were also sharing hogging the blanket that Spencer had brought out and offered to you when you sat down.

Derek had pulled out his speaker to play music (which you all complained about because he had probably the worst taste in music out of all of you) and he had it on faintly as you chatted. Penelope suggested a game she liked to play, aptly named the 'I'm going on a camping trip' game. You would go in a circle and you each had to name things alphabetically that you were bringing on the camping trip. The catch was, you had to repeat all of the answers before yours.

"It goes like this. I'm going on a camping trip and I'm bringing apples." Penelope started, looking to Emily for her turn.

"Okay... I'm going on a camping trip and I'm bringing apples, and beer." Emily continued.

"Yes! You get it! Okay let's keep going. Spencer?" Penelope prompted.

"I'm going on a camping trip and-"

"Wait, wait, how is this fair? He's got an eidetic memory, that's basically cheating!" Derek claimed.

"Well there's no winner. It doesn't matter." You pointed out and Morgan raised his arms in surrender.

"I'm going on a camping trip and I'm bringing apples, beer, and Charles Dickens' 'Great expectations'." Everyone groaned and complained.

"Come on, man really?"

"That's what I'm bringing!" Spencer defended with a grin. You smiled at him.

"Okay, I'm going on a camping trip and I'm bringing apples, beer, Charles Dickens' 'Great expectations', and Derek Morgan." He barked out a laugh at your answer, and the game continued. Morgan used G for 'Goblins', Hotch said 'Jack' for J, JJ said 'my family' for M, Rossi said 'Scotch', and it ended on Emily who (granted, had had a few drinks) said Xylophone for 'Z', sparking a bout of laughter from the group.

You played a few more similar campfire games and made s'mores, arguing about the 'correct' way to roast a marshmallow. Derek liked it when it was burnt on the outside, Penelope liked it a little under-cooked, stopping just before it got golden brown, Spencer liked to get it exactly golden brown on all sides. You had your own opinions on marshmallow roasting but right now you were just enjoying watching Spencer explain the chemical reaction that happens between the sugar and gelatin in the marshmallow when it's placed over the flame.

Your eyes roamed his face, taking in his features, the curve of his nose, the way his hair fell over his face, the way his eyes glowed, the reflection of the fire in them making the gold flecks more prominent.

"What? Is there chocolate on my face?" He asked when he caught your stare.

"No, no. Nothing. You're just pretty." You were glad you could see the blush even in the darkness. "I'm gonna get another drink. You want one?" He shook his head, still smiling.

"No, I'm okay." You went to get more booze, and over the course of the night, you'd had drink after drink. And Spencer watched you get drunker and drunker, and giggly and clingy. And eventually you, JJ, and Penelope, with more than a few drinks in you, were up dancing near the fire while the others sat watching, amused, also tipsy. Derek's music had been turned up, though he agreed to change the playlist. Spencer was watching you carefully, more specifically, the way your beach robe flowed around you, getting close to the fire. At some point, you twirled a little too close to the fire pit. Spencer shot up, catching you around the waist when you teetered back a little. Thank god your robe didn't catch on fire before he yanked you into his chest. You snorted into his shoulder, giggling like a maniac. He moved back to his seat and you sat back down next to him, leaning into his side.

"Is this yours?" You asked, reaching around him to grab the red solo cup next to him.

"Yeah, you can have it." He said and you took a sip.

"There's no alcohol in it." You said, furrowing your eyebrows up at him.

"Yeah." Spencer agreed.

"You're not drinking? Spencer, don't be boring." He couldn't lie, that stung a little bit. "I'll make you a drink." I said, standing up and maneuvering around the fire pit to make him a drink, pouring much more alcohol than was necessary. Spencer grimaced when I handed it back, waiting for him to drink it. He took a small sip, wincing at the strong taste. You smiled, leaning back into his side as he handed you his cup. You weren't typically a mean drunk, but tonight, something brought it out of you.

Spencer was used to being called boring because he didn't participate in the same activities that everyone else did to have fun. It didn't affect him anymore because he had you and you had convinced him that he didn't need to do the same things as everyone else to have fun. Whatever he found fun was just as valid.

But tonight, he was second guessing. Did you really mean all that you said. Was it true that drunk words were sober thoughts? If so that meant that sober you were really obsessed with his hair. But more importantly, it meant that sober you didn't think he was fun. Not that he generally characterized himself as 'fun'. Sure he had his own ideas of fun but that was different.

He had been silent since you said what you said, his brain switching into overthinking mode. You hadn't noticed since you were drunk and up again, dancing with JJ and Penelope, further away from the fire this time. Could he really blame you for what you said? Did he even care that much if you thought he wasn't 'fun'?

Eventually, it got too much for him, he'd spiraled too much and he just needed to leave. He wasn't having fun anymore and he didn't really want to be around anyone else. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about what they thought of him. You sat back down next to him again, chugging the rest of his drink. Spencer stood up.

"I think I'm gonna go to bed." He said and you looked up at him.

"What? Why? Aren't you having fun?" You asked, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Yeah, but I'm tired." He shrugged.

"Spencer, come on. Don't go to bed." You grabbed his hand, wanting to keep him here.

"Angel, I-"

"Just stay and have fun with us. The normal kind of fun, not just sitting off to the side." I said, smiling almost like it was funny. He assumed I was too drunk to realize how my words had hurt him.

"Goodnight." He said, turning to go inside. Your smile dropped as you watched him leave, confused about what happened. Suddenly, you weren't having fun anymore. You watched JJ and Penelope spin and flail around to the music but you weren't amused anymore. You just missed Spencer.

You went up to the room you shared with your boyfriend, stumbling out of your clothes and into your pajamas, looking at Spencer who was asleep in the bed. You knelt on the bed next to him, shaking him a bit.

"Spencer." You whispered. You shook him again and whispered his name again.

"Hmm? Angel?" He mumbled tiredly, turning to look at you.

"Spence, I'm sorry."

"What?" He asked in a confused, tired haze.

"I'm sorry about what I said. I didn't mean it. You are fun. You're not boring."

"It's fine." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

"No it's not. I shouldn't have said that, I was being mean. I just wanted to get you to stay and- and that was wrong. I'm really sorry, Spence." You said, beginning to tear up.

"It's okay, hey, don't cry." He said, sitting up to comfort you.

"No, don't forgive me just because I'm crying. I'm just drunk, I'm being stupid." You said, wiping at your cheeks.

"It's not just because you're crying. I forgive you because I know you're sorry. Can we go to bed now?" He asked. You sniffled and nodded as he pulled you to lay down with him.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled into his chest.

"Shh, angel. It's alright. Just go to sleep." He pressed a kiss to your head.

"You don't really think you're boring, right?" You asked softly. He thought for a few moments. He wanted to tell you the truth but he didn't know if you'd be able to handle it right now in your drunken, emotional state.

"No. I don't." He decided he'd give you a small lie and if you asked again in the morning, he'd tell you the truth. You nodded into his chest.

"Okay. Good. You're not. And I don't think you are."

"I know, honey, go to sleep." Soon your breathing evens out and his hand, skimming up and down your back in soothing motions, tugs you closer to him.

He knew that, underneath it all, you meant no harm. Truly, he had forgiven you and he knew it was just your drunken scrambled brain that was trying to get him to stay. But a little voice, deep down inside him, told him that it was true. You, and everyone else, thought that he was boring. That he didn't know how to have fun. That they felt sorry for him. He remembers that voice. It's been pertinent in his childhood but he thought he'd grown out of it. He thought the voice had left him. That maybe, since he'd stifled it so much, suffocated it in the furthest corner of his brain, that it had gone away. But he realized he was wrong. That voice was still there. It had always been there. And it will always be there.

Taglist: @totallynotabuckybarnessimp, @perfectgoopfishuniversity-blog, @cynbx, @lortheswiftie

[marleyybluu]

Boy, Bye

Spooky x black!fem!reader

Words: 3k

Warnings: 18+, smut central (with plot), flirting, mentions of drinking and drug use (relax it's just weed), smoking and driving (but don't be this stupid), Spooky being a nervous boy at the end, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap that bitch up we don't need any more crotch goblins jk), creampie because I'm a sick bitch, Spanish nicknames as usual, probably misspelling bcus I was high as shit writing this. lmk if i missed anything

A/N: This was inspired by Boy, Bye by Ari Lennox, her album age/sex/location is a banger I have rediscovered it and the idea hit me like a brick. I do wanna say I don't mention the readers skin tone or anything but she is a black woman bcus i mentioned a fresh set of braids. and black women should be the only ones wearing box braids, wigs, etc... in case yall forgot :)

Not my gif.

The distinct chatter of club patrons droned out of your ears as a persistent ringing replaced it. You sat at the bar, your back turned to counter and your elbows planted firmly on the surface. Just minding your business. Drinking your rum and coke.

"You look sweet like mangoes." A very hot and unwarranted breath invaded your space and it was a reminder as to why you didn't want to come out in the first place. Men were gross, they ruined everything with catcalls and what they think are sweet pickup lines. You turned your head to look at him, he flashed a drunken smile— his teeth crooked and filled with whatever he'd eaten before he got here. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention back to the crowd.

He wasn't the first to approach you tonight, especially since you dispersed from your group to sit at the bar, your feet killing you from the stupid but cute heels you wore. "Sweet like mangoes huh?" You reiterated. He nodded leaning in closer as you leaned away. "Yeah. I know."

The man chuckled at your lack of a 'thank you.'

"Now why are you acting like that? Hm? A man can't get to know you?"

You wrapped your lips around your straw and sipped obnoxiously but he wasn't budging. "A man whose leftovers aren't in his teeth can get to know me." You bit. The man leaned back in disbelief, your comment seemingly sobering him up. "Well, fuck you then bitch."

You raised your glass. "You wish you could." That added fuel to the fire and he stormed off like a pissed off toddler. You smiled taking the last sip of your drink, turning around to place it on the bar, you needed a bit of time before you ordered another, might be the last before you go home. You hopped off the stool and grabbed your purse heading to the restroom, surprisingly there was no line but a few girls were hogging the vanity reapplying whatever makeup had come off. You shuffled inside the small stall and propped your purse on the hook of the door.

Once you were done handling business the women had disappeared and you had the sink to yourself, you washed your hands and dried them off with the paper towels provided, and you checked yourself out flipping your fresh braids to the side finding that was cuter than just having a middle part. When you were satisfied you headed back out putting a little pop in your hips. On your way back to your spot you noticed a man, a young man maybe about your age, sitting in on the seat next to yours. You shrugged and headed over anyway hopping back up without saying a word.

You pulled out your phone and noticed a notification from the group chat, one of the girls asking if you were okay and where were you. As you typed you remained oblivious to the stranger next to you, unaware of the little glances that he took at you. He tipped his head back as he drank from his Corona, you sighed putting your phone down. "You're good?" He asked, genuinely, to your surprise. You looked over at him and nodded. Your eyes analyzed whatever you could see in the shitty and low lighting. The first thing you noticed was the shaved head, not really your thing but it was cute on him, his bushy eyebrows raised in interest watching you examine him. He sported a small moustache and a goatee, the sides were clean-shaven, his slim and aquiline nose complimented him as well and with a nose like that, you wondered how the rides were on that face.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked breaking the silence, you'd accept it, telling him thanks and allowing him to wave over the bartender. You remembered seeing a whiskey sour on the little drink menu and ordering that while he ordered another Corona. He smiled at you, his cheeks so high it made his eyes squint, and you tugged at your bottom lip. "Don't worry I don't have any corny ass pickup lines like the rest of these putos." He reassured. You playfully dismissed him. "Eh, they aren't so bad." Lies.

He turned himself in the stool, his whole body facing you-- one leg on the footrest of the seat and the other on the floor. Your eyes involuntarily dropped down to his lap and quickly back up to his eyes. "Yeah? So, how come you pushed 'em all away?"

He'd been watching you?

"'Cause none of them bought me a drink." You flirted. "Oooh, so that's why I haven't gotten dissed yet?"

You shrugged. "Maybe."

"I can respect that."

Your drinks arrived and you thanked the bartender. He raised his bottle. "Salud."

"Salud." You copied. You took a sip and shook your head, damn that really is sour. He snorted at the way your face contorted. "Don't like it?"

"Didn't expect it to be that sour."

"I could get you a different drink."

You passed. "It's okay, I can handle it. Plus I wouldn't want one of your little girlfriends seeing you buy me more than one drink."

He rolled his eyes bringing his drink to his lip, "No girlfriends over here."

"Surprised."

"Why?"

You set your whiskey sour down and boldly stated, "You're way too fine to be alone." He turned his head away from you, a warm feeling spreading across his face but he couldn't let you see it. "Thanks, mamita." He responded turning back to your direction. "You sure your man won't fight me for buying you one? 'Cause I can put up a good fight cariño."

You tilted your head to the side, smitten. "No boyfriend's over here."

"Good to know."

— — Your once drastic and boring night was starting to look upward. Spooky, you found out to be his name, was good conversation. Yeah, he threw a corny line here and there but you actually liked them coming from him, he wasn't trying too hard he was just being playful.

Your eyes landed on the imprint on his neck, a crucifix tilted on its side with the name Santos etched down the middle. "Los Santos... hm are you?"

"Am I what?"

You leaned into him your hand finding its way to the side of his neck and gently dragging your nails on his inked skin. "A saint."

His eyes focused more on your lips. "More of a sinner." He mumbled. You giggled tipsily. "Boy, bye."

The DJ had announced it was the last song of the night, you looked at your phone reading 3 AM, your plans to leave early had been disrupted in the best way. Spooky noticed your attention detour. "Ready to go home?"

You sighed now not wanting the night to end. "Guess so."

"I could drop you home."

Your eyes sharpened, you didn't know him... but, fuck, you liked him enough to almost agree to it. "I don't know if I want a sinner dropping me home."

He put his hand over yours, the contact sparked a warm feeling in your lower belly. He guided your palm to his chest. "I'll be a saint,cielito, don't worry."

You laughed wholeheartedly. "That was so fucking lame."

"Made you laugh though."

It did.

You agreed to take the ride and while he paid for the drinks you texted the group:

Y/n: got a ride home ;) I'll talk to you bitches tomorrow.

They gassed you up for any potential activity tonight and hoped that you'd get home safely. Spooky got off first and held his hand out to help you down, he didn't let go as he led you through the crowd, he met up with the boys you assumed he came with and dapped them up with his free hand, his other one never letting go of yours.

Soon, you two were out the door, you lowkey stumbled through the parking lot, alcohol and heels were never a good combo. He helped you though. And you two arrived in front a Red Impala, your mouth twitched with fascination. "Nice car." You blurted out. "Thanks ma, worked on it myself."

"Damn, he's cute and a mechanic? You sure no one is crazy over you?"

He opened the door for you. "No, just you."

"I'm not crazy, yet." You pointed before sliding inside. He closed your door and headed over to his side. Your body was full of tingles, the feeling reaching your toes but you didn't know if it was the buzz from your drink or if it was him. Either way, you were enjoying this.

Spooky pulled off. You sighed and smiled lazily throwing your head back, you were floating— your body felt like it was flying through space. "You smoke?" He asked, you heard a lighter flicker and you shook your head. "I do, but I can't take anything else right now."

He shrugged and inhaled the THC, he reached for the dial on his stereo and turned up the volume, the music he was playing earlier resuming its beat. Sierra Leone by Frank Ocean serenaded your ears. "I love this song."

You hummed along to the slow tune. Spooky caught you in the corner of his eye, he smiled. He enjoyed the show and the company until he pulled up to your neighbourhood and into your driveway. You groaned, did he really have to go?

You notice him turn the car off. "You're not coming inside you know."

He smirked. "Don't worry, I'm just taking you to the door at least."

You slightly frowned, he left you for a few seconds before your door opened and he offered his hand once again. You successfully landed on your feet, your hand moulded with his and now it was your turn to lead him. Up the steps. You fumbled with your keys until you found the correct one, you felt nervous under his gaze. Those low eyelids undressing you, you just knew it. Your key slid into the slot and turned it unlocking your door. "Thanks... for the ride."

"No problem, ma." You looked up as he towered over you. His energy pulled you in, you were drunk but you weren't that drunk. Maybe he could come in for a little bit.

— — Clothes spread across your bedroom floor, the sheets sliding off the bed like melted cheese. You two were in a tangle of limbs, naked bodies pressed against each other, his nose brushed yours as he planted the softest kiss on your lips. Your hands flew to his flushed cheeks pulling him in with eagerness and at the same time, his slender finger running over your blue panties. You smiled against his lips. His kisses were so warm and passionate. 

He used his fingers to tug at your panties, hauling them to the side. You whined feeling him run them between your wet folds, collecting and salivating your juices. He toyed with your clit, slowly and steadily, your hips bucking up to chase his touch. Ending your short misery a finger entered your heat, you gasped in the middle of your kiss and your eyebrows knitted together, your face reading 'finally.' You smiled hazily against his lips once he pulled it out and plunged back in with an additional finger. "Fuuuuck."

He skillfully curled his fingers up hitting that spongey spot, that sweet spot. You squirmed under him with pleasure and anticipation... desperation, for more. You sat up on your elbows looking down and seeing his fingers work their magic on you, your mouth fell open, pushing your hips forward once again. You just wanted more.

You looked back up at him. "You're so pretty when you make that face, cariño." He complimented. The heel of his hand brushed against your pulsing clit, you clenched around his fingers causing a smirk to appear on his face. "S-shit, please."

"Please what mi amor?"

For once, you were in no mood for foreplay, you were very slick and sticky with arousal. "Just fuck me, please."

He smiled shaking his head at your earnest request, he continued his teasing assault on your sweet spot, his lips connecting to your neck, your eyes rolling at the immense pleasure you were receiving. Your hand on the back of his neck holding him in place. "Yes... oh... yes!" He was pulling your orgasm closer and closer, your hips raised off the mattress. "I thought you just said you wanted me to fuck you?"

"I-I do."

"Doesn't seem like it now." He evilly chuckled. The sound of your pussy juice and your frantic whimpers went straight to his dick, his growing erection poking at your leg. "I'm gonna cum." You wept. Spooky slowly pulled out his fingers leaving you on the brink of an orgasm, you groaned glaring at him. He winked wrapping his lips around the fingers that were just inside you, he licked off your essence until his fingers were clean. You giggled dropping your head on the pillow.

Spooky pulled off his boxers and his dick sprung out with a wet thud once the tip hit his lower abdomen, fuck he was so hard, you drooled at the sight spreading your legs further apart. He wrapped his hand around his girth sliding his tip between your soaked folds before carefully pushing his length inside you. Your voice broke at the feeling of him against your gummy walls, enveloping every inch he had to give you. Your bottom lip finds comfort between your teeth, your head tipped back and your toes curled. His sack hits your ass as he bottomed out. Filled you to the brim.

Spooky held his position, enjoying the feeling of you wrapped around him. His warm hands find solace on the back of your thighs, sliding up to the crook of your knee. You felt as he pushed your legs back, your knees touching your chest. He pulled his hips back and pushed them forward flush against your pelvis his coarse curly hair at the base of his shaft brushing against your clit, an additional sensation. 

Your hands wrapped around his wrists as he rocked into you, giving you strokes you've never felt in your life. Your mouth fell open, breathless whispers leaving your throat, egging him on about how well he stretched you, how full you felt with him inside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! That feels so-o good." 

Spooky smirked looking down at you, your various love faces so beautiful being contorted with pleasure. He leaned down, your legs now planted on his shoulders, he kissed your nose and then forehead before pressing his against it. There was a mix of sounds-- his grunting, your erotic moans and the sound of skin on skin bounced off the walls, if you lived in an apartment they'd probably knock on the wall to complain. 

You could feel yourself leaking, dripping, onto the sheets and coating his dick in your desire. "You're so fucking pretty when you're taking me, princesa. Eres muy guapa." He groaned, your head fell back, your high carefully approaching once again. Your nails left crescent shapes on his skin. "Shit! I like being inside you, you're so fucking wet, bebita." 

Your walls constantly fluttered around him. He hissed and you smirked. "I know you feel that, fuck, I'm gonna cum for you." 

His hand slipped between sweaty bodies, his fingers finding your clit once again. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, his teeth nibble at your jaw. "Right there! Uh-huh, right fucking there!" Spooky pounded into you, hard yet maintaining rhythm. Your eyes are glossy with incoming tears, the overstimulation of it all. "Fucking squeeze me, mamita. I got you, cum on this dick." 

His words tip you over and your body tenses up and your eyes fall into the pit of your skull. He felt every pulsation of your orgasm, his tip constantly hitting your spot. He held up his weight, his hands rested on your lower back fingers gripping your ass cheeks. His thrusts became sloppier as he helped your ride out your orgasm and his quickly approaching. "Oh my god," You hazily giggle. "Fuck! Yeah, use me to get yourself off, please. Cum wherever you want, baby, give it to me." 

Spooky pushed in one more time, you faintly smiled at the feeling of his warm spend squirting inside of you. You were both out of breath, Spooky leaned back and sat on his knees with his softening dick still buried inside you. He helped take your legs off his shoulder and you mumbled in pain. "Shit... I mean I didn't expect you to actually fold me." 

He laughed. "I said I was gonna do it." He spoke in reference to his warning earlier when you lured him into your house. He leaned down once again to give you an affectionate kiss. "You feeling okay?" 

"More than okay." You confessed. "Good," He kissed your nose before pulling out, you almost pouted at the loss. "You're okay if I grab some water?" 

You nodded telling him there were bottles in the fridge, he shot you a thumbs up and put on his boxers before he left, once he was out of your sight you let out a big sigh of relief and a very bright smile was sure to follow. You felt so giddy, butterflies were making their home in your nervous system. What the fuck was this feeling? 

Spooky grabbed two bottles and made his way back upstairs, offering you one. You thanked him and sat up as carefully as you could. You caught a prideful smirk on his face. "Don't start." You warned him, he put his hands up in defence. 

"What are you doing tomorrow?" He asked out of the blue. "Not much, why?" 

"Uh, I'm not one to overstep my boundaries and it's up to you,  really, but do you want to get something to eat?" 

You nodded. "Of course. Any places in mind?" 

"There's a... breakfast bar... downtown." He sounded more nervous with that statement. You blushed. "Breakfast? Oh, so you want to spend the night with me, Spooky?" 

He suddenly felt like an idiot, he was very much a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits person but with you, he kind of wanted to see if this could go somewhere. "If that's cool with you." 

You set your bottle down on the nightstand, you smiled propping yourself up on your hands and knees. You crawl over to him and kiss his temple, you go down to nibble his ear and whisper; "If you keep fucking me like that, I just might have to keep you." 

He shivered, his dick jumped at the thought alone. Quickly the roles were reversed back his fingers intertwined with yours as he put you on your back. 

"I better get to work then."

If you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

peace and love, see you in the next one.

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit

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[gutsby]

Nighthawk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: After your lusty, short-lived relationship with a certain archer goes south, you decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off things. Daryl isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v, semi-public fucking on Daryl’s bike and hints of exhibitionism, generally rough, jealous sex. Age gap. Assplay. Angst.

One swig of the witches’ cocktail brew, a couple candy corn jell-o shots, and several spiked seltzers in, and you were starting to have serious doubts about your decision to come out tonight.

You clutched your stomach in one hand and Spencer’s arm in the other. The man guiding you inside tried his best to stifle a chuckle.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you with his elbow.

“Great,” you lied through your teeth.

The two of you were weaving through a swarm of partygoers in the entryway now. A sea of masked faces and shredded costumes came dimly into view, and with the sight of the first goblin ensemble drenched in fake blood, you wanted to vomit. You’d think a community of people plagued with nightmarish walkers year-round would lay off the theatrics when it came to Halloween attire as gruesome and grisly as that, but no. Spencer laughed and clapped the ghoul on the shoulder.

“Abraham, my man!” he greeted, “You’re a vision in red.”

Abraham lifted his mask just slightly to heave a sigh.

“It’s hotter’n H-E-double hockey sticks in this sick contraption. I’m sweatin’ like a hog,” he scowled.

When his eyes had adjusted to the light and he caught a glimpse of you, practically green in hue, his face softened considerably.

“You alright, darlin’? You look ready to blow chunks.”

He wasn’t far off the mark. Your stomach was busy doing somersaults up and down your body, and your brain was on the fritz with a new wave of nausea.

“Need a little water is all,” you managed meekly.

Your red-haired companion nodded and started off down the hallway without another word, beckoning you and Spencer to follow. You passed through the rest of the house with relative ease, amazed at how much Alexandria appeared to have grown and how many of those people were here, in Deanna’s house, for some seemingly inconsequential Halloween celebration. You barely recognized half the faces.

Spencer grinned as he sensed those same people were all turning their heads to follow your path. It was his first time parading Officer Friendly’s daughter around a public gathering—the first time you’d agreed to make it known you two were a tentative “thing” since the messy conclusion of your last relationship—and he was pleasantly surprised to see the effect you had on others.

Never mind the fact you were wearing a white lacy bodice, miniskirt, garter belt and stockings. Paired with the makeshift halo and wings, breasts practically bursting at the seams of your costume, it seemed you garnered more attention than you knew what to do with. You were hot, and you were his, Spencer thought with a superficial sense of pride. He squeezed your hand a little tighter and secretly hoped you’d cross paths with everyone he knew in town, so he’d get his chance to prove it.

The three of you descended the few short steps into the garage, where it seemed most of the music, booze, and bodies had congregated. A smoke machine supplied a thick white mist about the room, and alongside the near-blinding white and purple strobe lights, you had only to cling to Spencer’s side and hope he was still following Abraham.

Suddenly, a red solo cup was thrust in your direction, and you smiled at the sight of water spilling over its edges.

“You’re an angel,” you beamed, standing on tip-toes to place a quick kiss on Abraham’s cheek.

Abraham opened his mouth to speak but was presently cut off by a louder, shouting voice:

“Quit your loose-lipped lolly-gaggin’ with the lady and get your ass over here!”

Eugene was drunk. So very, very drunk. You could tell by the sound of his voice alone.

“Kiss my freckled ass,” Abraham yelled back, baring a toothy smile at his friend as he started to make his way over. Tugging you and Spencer to follow suit.

You shot a worried look over your shoulder.

“Spence, I don’t think I—”

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” Spencer interrupted, already eyeing the white table at the center of the room, “Just drink your water, and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

You doubted you would but downed the liquid nonetheless. With each step ahead, it seemed you were only growing sicker, so you got to guzzling the water fast and just hoped you would be able to keep it together.

Unsurprisingly, the folding table was already crowded with plastic cups. Eugene and Aaron making sloppy pours across the tops with cans of Busch Light cradled in their arms and cracking up at every spill they made. You quickly scanned the group for any unknown, or unwanted, faces and felt relieved not to see Rick, your father, or Daryl, his best friend—and your ex-boyfriend.

That last part your dad still didn’t know about. You wanted to keep it that way.

Today marked six months since you and Daryl had started your ill-conceived affair and two weeks since you decided to call it quits—you know, after one too many occasions where Rick had almost caught you two boning on the sofa and Daryl swore left and right he was going to tell your dad everything, while you begged him not to. You sensed any such admission would be guaranteed to destroy your dad and Daryl’s friendship, so you made him promise not to tell.

Begrudgingly, Daryl had agreed, but he’d hated every minute of it. You knew it was only a matter of time before the whole thing blew up in your face, and eventually, it did.

Fourteen days after you’d broken the man’s heart, here you were, waltzing into a party on Spencer Monroe’s arm. Six long months after you’d kept Daryl your dirty secret, you were flaunting this fabrication of a relationship for all to see.

You knew he’d hate you for it. You needed him to. There was just no other way you could shake his affections—and consequently protect his friendship with your father, along with any last shred of unity in your group—unless Daryl despised you. You knew no surer bet than Deanna’s shitbrained son to accomplish that goal.

At present, Spencer pressed a beer-sodden pair of lips to yours, and you almost recoiled.

“You in, baby?” Nodding toward the drinking game still being set up before you.

You shook your head no.

“She’s in!” Spencer announced anyway. Then, quietly, he leaned in closer to you and said, “Quit bein’ a pussy.”

Defying all logic, he kissed you again. Harder. You reluctantly accepted his tongue in your mouth and feigned a smile when the rest of your group cheered their drunken, congratulatory encouragement around you.

When you pulled apart, you felt you wanted to puke again, this time for reasons unrelated to the alcohol. Then, as if on cue, your eyes fell on a previously undetected member of your party.

Daryl stood across the table now, gaze locked on yours with a look that could’ve killed you twenty times over.

To your horror, Spencer extended his arm across the way to shake his hand. Clearly trying too hard to ingratiate himself with a man who looked like he wanted him dead.

“Daryl Dixon!” he cried, smiling too wide for anyone even half as happy.

Your archer shook his hand and hardly seemed to see him. Disinterest painted plain across his features.

Spencer turned to you next, and you wanted to melt into the floor as he gestured toward Daryl, stupidly:

“Have you two met—”

“Your girl’s too young to play.”

Daryl didn’t even deign to grace you with a look. Spencer forced a laugh.

“You kidding? She’s practically a pro at rage cage,” he returned, pinching you playfully.

Somehow, you sensed Daryl wanted Spencer to shut up even more than you did. The stoic, tight-lipped frown with a set of deadened eyes sealed it for you.

At length, he chanced a look in your direction, and his expression didn’t change.

“Doubt it,” Daryl scoffed, “Better let her sit this one out before her daddy comes and gets her.”

He sure had been singing a different tune when he’d had his cock crammed down your throat a couple weeks ago. Didn’t seem too worried about Rick’s intrusion back then, you thought to yourself.

Before Spencer could respond, the whole table shook beneath you. Eugene was beating his fists against the surface, sending solo cups shaking every which way.

“Hear ye, hear ye—”

“Someone please cut him off,” Rosita grumbled behind you.

“This is the last—I repeat last—chance any one of you gets to join this game of rage cage right here,” Eugene declared, the end of his sentence punctuated by a hiccup.

One of Deanna’s goodie bags went sliding across the table to you. You looked at Daryl, confused.

“This one’s already itchin’ to pull trig,” he said to Eugene, “She better sit this out.”

Daryl then nodded toward the plastic baggie as if to suggest you go ahead and puke, but you flung the thing back at him fast.

“I am not,” you countered defiantly.

“Prove it,” Spencer interjected, useless as a screen door on a submarine.

You turned and saw him smiling ear to ear, oblivious to just how badly you wanted to rock his shit.

“Leave her be, chucklefuck.” Abraham boomed overhead.

“Well now, nobody has to prove—” Eugene paused to hiccup again, “—anything.”

In spite of your friends’ words of support, you felt a twist in your stomach and a familiar heat rise to your cheeks. You were blushing, you knew it, but you simply couldn’t lose out in the face of such a challenge. No matter how drunk and disoriented you were, you wouldn’t let Daryl, much less Daryl and Spencer, make a fool of you now.

You glanced at the handle of Everclear in Maggie’s hands just as she started to mix herself a drink.

“I can take a pull to prove it,” you said, motioning to the bottle.

Everyone who’d heard your suggestion and spared a look to the bottom shelf bottle of liquor made a face. Though piss-poor spirits were certainly no anomaly for your group, it was hardly anyone’s inclination to start chugging stuff close to 190 proof—least of all for folks who didn’t have a death wish or a liver made of steel.

“Fuck no,” Maggie and Daryl said in unison.

“Hell yes,” Spencer supplied just as fast.

So the matter was settled.

Maggie eyed you with an incredulous look when you reached for the bottle but knew better than to stop you after you’d made up your mind. Before you knew it, you were holding the thing by the neck and struggling, at length, to ignore Rosita and Abraham’s pleas over your shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’d be better off swallowing a bag of dicks dipped in Drano, darlin’.”

Even Daryl was watching you with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading with you not to take the pull.

You would’ve gladly relented then, dropped the handle back on the table and stepped away without another word, but there was something in your brain telling you you needed to see this through. Whether it was self-sabotage or simple, drunken stupidity, you couldn’t be sure, but you probably wouldn’t care much longer.

You tipped your head back and flooded your mouth full of the grain alcohol.

Shortly after, a spasm in your stomach told you, without a shadow of a doubt, you wouldn’t be swallowing any of it.

You dropped the bottle and bolted out the door. Before you’d made it one step outside, you were already spraying a cloud of Everclear in the air, along with every food content and bodily fluid residing in your stomach. You dropped to your hands and knees in the grass and hurled like you never had before.

You closed your eyes and dug your fingers deep into the dirt below, desperately wishing you weren't wearing white. Convulsed in your tight corset and hoped this process wouldn’t be too painful to endure.

When you felt someone’s hands start to gather your hair in a ponytail behind you, you surmised you might not be so lucky. You spit on the ground and tried to shake them off.

“Get fucked, Spence,” you hissed.

The hands didn’t flinch from your hair and instead pulled it tighter between them.

“I said, get—” you struggled at the last, trying in vain to buck off whoever was above you. You cursed under your breath when it seemed clear they weren’t planning on budging.

“If this is how ye treat yer boyfriend, I’m glad ye dumped me,” a voice said with some amusement.

You groaned into the grass below you, eyes squeezing shut in disbelief,

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Daryl loosened one hand from your hair to start rubbing circles in your back. When you retched again, he moved his palm even more softly.

“I think I know ye well enough to say ya shouldn’t be chugging Everclear to prove a point,” Daryl said.

You didn’t have anything to say to that. He was right.

After one more pitiful heave, you started to struggle to get upright and eventually onto your feet. Daryl looped an arm around your waist and helped you up.

Your mind was reeling and your stomach was steeling itself against another potential onslaught of convulsions. When Daryl turned you around and steadied you in front of him, though, all concern for your current predicament ebbed gently from your mind. His blue eyes seemed to study every inch of you.

“Do you hate me now?” you asked abruptly.

You felt stupid for asking as soon as you said it. But then, to your surprise, Daryl smiled. He placed a hand on either side of your head and tilted it up to his.

“Do I look like I hate ye?” he asked.

Perhaps owing to your state of intoxication or the way Daryl made you feel when there was little more between you than a few inches and ample opportunity, you actually looked him up and down. Trying to detect any trace of hatred or the least bit of annoyance there but coming up with nothing. He started stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

The memories and the feelings all came flooding back faster than you would’ve liked, but there they were, and there he was, standing tall and tame and perfectly blameless in this situation you wished you hadn’t shot to shit two weeks ago. You suspected if he’d been looking at you any differently that night, it was simply an act of self-preservation on his part; no number of dirty looks or disparaging jabs could mask the fact that he couldn’t hate you if he tried. One warm look from those wide, placid eyes turned your stomach inside out and made you ashamed you ever left him in the first place.

You weren’t sure who started it, but your lips were back together in seconds, placing hot, frantic kisses all over the other.

“Did you miss me?” you mumbled against his mouth, in between a barrage of kisses.

Daryl’s hands traveled down your back and squeezed your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

“More than you fuckin' know,” he groaned as he slid his tongue between your lips.

Quick came the mind-numbing rush of intimacy in secret, that lovely, electrifying feeling of doing something you shouldn’t. It took no time at all to get reacquainted with that addictive sensation—you felt yourself lean into it even more this time around. You slipped out of his arms and back onto your feet, ready for more of him.

“We can’t—” Daryl started, out of breath already, “—keep doin’ this, honey.”

“Yes, we can,” you returned quickly. Reaching for his belt while your pupils widened with lust.

You made the few familiar maneuvers to undo his buckle, button, and fly, and when you palmed him over his boxers, he moaned.

“What happens when your daddy finds out, hm?” Daryl managed through gritted teeth.

“If he does,” you corrected him.

“When he does.”

You sighed, frustrated. Daryl sure wasn’t making things easier on you.

“What do you want me to say, D? That I—I can just come clean and tell him his best friend’s been bangin’ me for the past six months? You know he’d skin you alive,” you said, your voice a little less kind than you intended.

It was the truth, though.

Like clockwork, Daryl took you back in his arms and carried you clear across Deanna’s yard, toward a tiny shed in the back. You snuck a look over your shoulder and saw his old, trusted motorcycle propped up against its siding.

When he placed you on the wide leather seat, you knew this fight was far from over. You kissed again, anyway.

“I’ll tell him myself then.” Daryl pulled off of you and ran his hands up your stocking-covered legs.

He rubbed them up and down and up again until his fingers faltered at the edge of your garter belt, secured snugly across the tops of your thighs.

“Or we can tell him. Together,” he rejoined, calmly dropping a hand between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat. You were already so sensitive, soaked through your panties and ready to take him whole. You whined when he swept his thumb over your clothed heat and clamped your thighs in defiance when he started to rub you up and down.

“I need you now,” you moaned.

Daryl didn’t bother concealing his smirk and just reached back to readjust himself—toying with your attention while you waited for him to take his cock out fully.

“No foreplay, huh?” he mused aloud as he eased his boxers down, “Must’ve been missin’ this cock somethin’ awful.”

You nodded without a second thought.

You were physically salivating at the sight of him. Watching him pump himself firm in one hand and brush your cheek with the knuckles of his other in a gentle touch.

“My baby won’t mind gettin’ stretched out again?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Promise not to cry?”

“Uh-huh.”

He was teasing you now. He’d seen your wide, listless eyes drink in the sight of him and couldn’t resist.

When he told you to bend over the seat of his bike, you obeyed in an instant. You planted your palms on the cushion, stuck your ass in the air, and practically wiggled it for him there.

“Like a bitch in heat,” Daryl growled just loud enough for you to hear.

He took your ass in both hands and spread yourself just wide enough so he could see the leaking, dripping mess along the slit of your panties. You sighed when he pried your underwear off a second later.

Daryl’s idea of “skipping” foreplay still wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t tease you to the point of orgasm at least once or twice.

True to form, he leaned in and placed a kiss over your unclothed core, and your knees almost buckled. He pushed his tongue up your slit, circled your clit, and dragged it all the way down past your pussy to the point he was nearly veering into uncharted territory for you both.

You gripped the bike below you and moaned out loud.

“Daryl, baby,” you pleaded with no motive in particular. You didn’t know what he was doing, you just wanted him to keep doing it.

“Want me here?” Daryl asked, his thumb sliding to that same delicate spot.

You pushed your hips back into him in a wordless but enthusiastic answer in the affirmative. Daryl grew even harder.

He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, knew he wanted to make that first-time experience in your other hole a little more sentimental than taking you over his bike with little to no lubrication—but the thought of the future endeavor excited him nonetheless. He peppered a couple more gentle kisses between your legs before standing up.

You whimpered at the loss of contact and almost turned around to say as much when he reappeared behind you, this time pressing the head of his cock between your folds.

“How bou’ here, honey? Can I fuck ya here?” he asked, all sweet words and civility when it came time to fuck you stupid.

“Y-yes, Daryl, yes,” you supplied your consent in a second.

“Then be good for me while ye take it, okay, doll?”

Before you could answer, Daryl’s cock was already starting to split you open. Soft, slow, and tender, with a stretch that made it feel like your first all over again, you both moaned at the feeling and rolled your bodies into one another.

Two weeks apart and you were all but fiending for an orgasm like he hadn’t been inside you for a year or more. Judging by the sounds Daryl made when he bottomed out, he was right there with you.

He dragged himself out to the tip and plunged back in, gripping your hips like they were the last thing holding him to earth. Then dropped his head back and groaned when you pushed yourself back to start meeting his thrusts.

“Ye feel too fuckin’ good,” he grunted, relishing the sounds of his balls slapping your ass with each bounce.

Your nose was buried somewhere between the seat and your own trembling fingers, scarcely breathing more than you could manage between each moan of his name. He loved you like this, all bent out of shape with your brain devoid of any other thought but his cock. He ran a finger over the pale, feathered wings of your costume—the ones that mirrored those emblazoned on the back of his vest—and couldn’t help but smile.

Just when you clenched and sensed you were dangerously close, Daryl hoisted you back onto your feet. Pulling out for a moment to switch positions and take you in his lap, now straddling him over his bike.

You sighed at the new sensation and smiled now that you could see him face-to-face. Daryl grinned right back and took your lips in his for a couple quick kisses.

“M’perfect girl,” he hummed, sponging kiss after kiss across your skin in sloppy, haphazard fashion.

You tipped your chin back and reveled in his gentle affections, moving your hips over him a little faster now.

“Gonna cum f’me? Show me just how good I’m making ye feel?” Daryl prodded, eyes alight with lust.

You pressed your forehead to his and nodded. Breaths coming out more ragged and strained than ever, you felt Daryl lift his hips and start fucking into you a little sharper, grip your sides a little less gently and just start giving it to you hard and fast and senseless so you’d be spilling over him in no time at all.

You were a mystery to him in many ways, but this realm was not one of them. Daryl knew just the right angle to take your soft, sensitive spot—strike it over and over and over again so you were clenching tight around him, begging him not to stop—and in a matter of seconds, you both got what you desperately wanted.

With one final squeeze around his member, you reached your peak and screamed his name, fucking him back with every vicious thrust he gave you. Then, try as he might to hold it in, Daryl grew just as oversexed and sensitive, shooting his load in you moments later.

The two of you rutted and moaned and clutched each other tight as you trembled through your highs. With Daryl’s warmth spreading deep inside you, you would’ve liked to stay this way forever—maybe rest in each other’s arms long enough to rally for rounds two, three, and four, if not more. But at present, you were content just to hold him.

A dull thump of music echoed from Deanna’s house. Daryl eyed you up and down, seemed set on asking if you’d like to go again, but took you by surprise with another question entirely.

He pulled you tight in his lap so his lips were close to yours. Sank his fingers into the flesh of your sides and said, ever casually:

“Ready to tell Rick?”