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starshipsofstarlord · 6 months

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not yet corpses. still, we rot.

summary. you were surviving after the prison fell, whilst you felt lost deep inside of yourself. without daryl, and the others that you had lost and yet to find, everything only seemed to get worse. and all was proven when the claimers interrupted your futile attempts of avoiding nightmares

warnings. death, gore, violence, angst, fluff, smut, unprotected sex, swearing, mentions of s.a, mentions of death

notes. i changed the specification of the timeline a tiny bit, i moved the timeline of the smut into a flash back as in my head y/n and daryl would be too on guard to fuck after all that trauma. i hope you enjoy my attempt at writing your request, i’d love to know your thoughts 🖤

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

The crickets sung as aspiring performers in the midst of the fire’s crackling, you were cold, tired and hungry, and all that you wanted to hear was the epiphany of silence. Each limb in your body ached sourly from the endless trekking that you had participated within, the chance to close your eyes and rest sounded spectacular.

But you refrained from succumbing to a fuelling slumber, for you would only be haunted by the reality of the situation that you had no home, and members of your found family were lost to the land that crawled with ravenous walkers… or dead.

The warmth provided from the flames was greatly appreciated by your bumpy flesh, and you stared distantly into the licking of sunset coloured mirage of the makeshift campfire. It dried the whites of your eyes to an irritating texture, however it was better than facing the truth behind the pitiful glances that the three survivors that you had structured the prison alongside donated in your direction.

You weren’t looking for sorrowful attention, you just wanted to find as many of your group as you could, selfishly Daryl more than others. The plain silver band on your finger glinted from the source of radiating and manmade light, flickering your memory back to you and Daryl tying the knot in a place that you had hoped would remain secure.

If it wasn’t for the Governor and his manipulated army, then it would have. You were glad they had their fates, or at least you assumed they all had considering the destruction that had been waged in the graveyard like grounds. There were countless lives that you had ensured were ended as you did your best to ensure that they would regret their life ruining choices.

The clouds grew agitatedly darker within the midnight sky above you, and to the dismay of your body’s survivalist needs, your shoulders shrunk from the bitter air as Rick extinguished the source of warmth. As you idly sat by, remaining in your shroud of speechless presence, Rick escorted Carl to the immobile vehicle, allowing him to sleep on the backseats for extra protection from the horrors that could possibly creep up on you in the night.

Michonne moved closer to you, placing her hand which rarely not held her executing samurai on your jacket clothed bicep, the moment was tender considering that she was doing her utmost to comfort you. “He’s out there,” she spoke with confidence, believing each word that left her mouth. “He’s a survivor, and he knows what he’s doing out there.”

“We were all survivors.” It was a statement, one that caused you great misery to say. “But in the end nobody survives, we’re all going to die one day, and some of the people out there are worse than the walkers. There’s no saying what has happened to the others… to Daryl…” You shook your head, trailing off into a weight of what one would describe as tranquility.

For you however, it was a reminder that in your future everything would be mute. The outbreak would demolish the remaining population of every single species, tainting them with transformative virus until the new and ‘improved’, infinite flock of homo sapiens lay ruin and feast to anything that breathed. The world now belonged to the dead, they were suitably adapted to the unforgiving nature of the world.

Their past minds had been erased, the concepts of a once modern life vanquished as society was. There was nought memories of waiting in endless queues in supermarkets, or eating a buttered bucket of popcorn in a movie theatre. All that corrupted the simple minds of the corpses was necessity to devour anything that they envisioned as food - your mindsets were now of similar values in that slim respect.

Just thinking of your mouth being bitterly tainted with a murderous wash of irony blood revolted you; it was something that you would never swallow, literally. Ripping into human flesh with your very teeth was a repulsive reminder that one bite, or a death without a deadly pressure to the brain, would turn you into one of those monsters. You had to remain alert, despite your body’s almost hypnotic drowsiness to fall asleep.

At least Rick and Michonne had each other, even if they did not acknowledge the true depth of their reciprocated support. You could tell that through their reunion something had changed within their dynamic, and you missed the deep likeness of companionship that you had shared with Daryl. Often times than not, you and the southern blooded archer would be among the seemingly endless forestation that surrounded the safe homestead of the prison, tracking and hunting critters that could surpass as an edible hors d'oeuvres.

There would be bashful conversations drifting between the two of you, whether that be a suave competition of whom could catch the most lustre of nut harbouring squirrels, or- well, in simpler terms, a concoction of unholy words that would prevail when he was erratically buried inside of your cunt. You’d go at it like rabbits in prosperous heat whilst present in the woods; the prison had no privilege of privacy since the residents of Woodbury had adjoined with the residing numbers.

And that was the thing you missed the absolute most, having your man close, in any which way. That cramped bunk within your sheet concealed cell was something you’d die for currently, you adored being pressed up against Daryl’s chest, listening to his tame heart beat, as you fell tentatively asleep.

Watch was more exhausting than it appeared, with a traipse dignifying each of your steps, you rubbed your heavy eyelids, hoping to excuse the tiredness that was overwhelming your body. In your dominant hand you used your shotgun as a walking cane, forcing yourself to return to your cell that you missed dearly. It was better than falling into a shrouding slumber in the middle of the hall; that almost sounded tempting, considering you wouldn’t have to move any further through the large prison, but you had more reason than a cot to sleep on calling your name.

And you saw it as you achingly slid past the hanging drape of a sheet that allowed some privacy in the individual cell that you always returned to and housed your random array of nicknacks that you had picked up on runs into permanently closed stores. Daryl’s body was strewn across the thin mattress, his hand laid across his face covering his depth-full eyes, as his chest rose and fell in an irregular accordance - he was still conscious, unable to doze off into plentiful rest.

Your lips tugged in an endearing smile that he couldn’t see, and you couldn’t resist from creeping closer. That was all you required, to be close to him. There were only a handful of steps remaining until you got to your desired destination, and without so much of a thought, you persevered. “Hey.” The tone that radiated from you was weak, throughout the daytime, your schedule had been filled with condemning tasks which were necessary to keep the smooth run of the prison a constant. Whilst you were doing your maintenance, there had been a not so big, yet not so small, hoard of walkers appear from over the horizon.

Michonne had joined you with handling their swift executions, but your shoulders ached from the striking violence, and the dragging of water caskets; the council, of which you were a part of, had decided to move them out of the sun so their contents would be of a hydrating temperature.

“Ya okay sunshine?” Daryl rolled around so that he was on his side, and sat up on the edge of the bed with a crouching back so that he could view your approach of him. You came to stand between his legs, enjoying the sensation of his hands running around your hips, their warmth filling you with comfort. To lull into the atmosphere which was turning sensual, your fingers coiled in his hair, running through the locks that had grown over the months.

His nose ran softly up your stomach, as he buried his face into your form, having reciprocated your yearning for his company. With a smooth drag from his strong arms, you fell delightedly into his lap, your faces meeting in a staring match as he brushed the side of your face with his hand. “Love ya, so fuckin’ much, my stunnin’ girl.” He mumbled, leading your lips to his in a slow and meaningful collision. The moment was tender, doused in every word that you were too exhausted to say aloud. You were communicating via your actions, discarding the apparel that concealed your bottom halves, giving you the opportunity to slide your cunt down on his erect cock.

You felt blissfully full, the qualms that had bent you to their will through the day slipping instantaneously away. The cupping of your palms positioned themselves on his exposed shoulders, and you ground your hips together, feeling his tip prod deep within you. Daryl shuffled back, kicking his legs out as he wrapped his arms around your frame, treating you so delicately as he fucked you from below. His lips cascaded along every inch of skin that your tank left bare, expressing his adoration for you with his lips and the little circles he drew along your hips. He could never get enough of being close to you, since the first time the two of you had shared together, he had gained more confidence with his role in the sexual situations you shared.

The breaths that huffed past your lips in attempts of being quiet were addictive to his ears, he was desperate to get an audible sound to fester out of you, but the pleasured expression that was imposed on your face was enough; he knew that he was making you feel amazing, and in these lovemaking events, that was all that mattered to him. He groaned at the thought of being somewhere private, where you could make a sound without disturbing anybody, or risking walkers stumbling upon you.

You were close, Daryl could feel it, your walls clenched uncontrollably around his length, which drove him wild, and cautiously he bucked his hips upwards a little faster, careful not to cause the bed to squeak to badly as there were people sleeping in both cells either side your own. He sat further up, his back straighter so that he could brush his teeth gently along your jaw, driving you wild as your hands drove beneath the sleeveless sides of his shirt, caressing his scarred flesh with tentativeness.

You were snapped out of your daydream in the omnipotent dark as you felt the scuffing of crinkling leaves, and before you could adjust into defensive action, there was a cold metal muzzle pressed into your muzzle, by a man with silver locks and a denim vest suited to his greedy physique. Without a doubt, these were the same men that had traipsed upon the house that you and Rick had been inhabiting whilst Michonne and Carl were strolling the streets.

They were claimers to objects they valued as things that their greed thirsted for, and you shuddered a breath as the man threatening your life steadied his grotesque arm upon your shoulder all the whilst he opened his mouth to converse impolitely. “Maybe we’ll keep this one alive, she’s a looker.” It felt as though he was bragging about the possibility to his hungry followers that you could be his property.

He recognised Rick that was for sure. You’d been a witness to the man that had taken it upon himself to cozy his fat ass on the toilet, and the way in which his throat was denied oxygen to passage through it. You and Rick had been huddled under the bed that dipped from their pocket heavy weights as you had ran to awaken him as you were certain you’d heard something before they bustled into the once home to a stranger that was no doubt long dead. And in your escape, you had put a deadly pressure on the invader’s throat… until he permanently passed out.

To exasperate your distaste for his misogynistic idea, you spat upon the ground, your nostrils flaring as you dared to spin your head back so that his gun was resting upon your forehead. If he was going to shoot, he might as well make it quick, considering you didn’t intend to be alive if they had the intentions of taking sick advantage of your body.

As you prepared to retort an insult that foully would cause further trouble for you and your friends, they momentarily became distracted but still alert as a figure slunk onto the clearing. You had to allow your vision to focus, and when it did, you were shocked in the best possible way. It was Daryl, and he was certainly alive. He seemed to be acquainted with this pack of scavengers, and you realised that the ordeal in which he had went through was the only way in which he could have survived.

He didn’t liken association with low lives that threatened those he cared about, however he hadn’t seen their full nature until now. Daryl felt at a crossroads as he took complete acknowledgment of the weapon that was frozen against your skull; he couldn’t be rash, they were a lousy, impulsive group, and he was lit with elation in every cell of his body to see that you were still breathing.

“Jus’ hold up.” His gentle footsteps were slowly approaching in a careful regard as his voice strained with caution. He couldn’t help but eye Joe up - he had a gun to your damn head! If he pulled that trigger… he wouldn’t allow that bullet to be released. You were far too great a risk to have on the line, he had to settle this, like a man. Rick was squinting up at him, determining the reason for the unsurprising reaction the claimers had given his presence.

“One of these two is the one that killed Lou so we got nothing to talk about.” The rugged, richly certain statement fled from one of the thieving men, as he had his long barrel raised, Rick being the focus on the end of his gun that had most likely been stolen in the crossfires of their apocalyptic journey. Anything was loot to them, even with their rules, they were scoundrels no doubt before the end of the world had began, and they would leave it no different. But Daryl wasn’t willingly going to allow them to either kill or claim you, your worth was insanely precious, and he wouldn’t allow all you had been through to be for nothing.

“The thing about nowadays is we got nothin’ but time.” Joe said from behind you, realising that finally, Daryl had proven himself despite the cautionary warnings and delivered punishments that the archer had bore witness to, but he was just to be a loss to them if he didn’t get behind the way, then he would just be an obstacle in the way. “Say your piece Daryl.” This was his final chance, but he had been given an opportunity. Joe liked to think of himself as an understanding man, there was always a reason as to why a swine didn’t want to roll in the mud; his gaze noticed that your eyes didn’t deter away from the redneck that was new to his ranks. There was an expression that he didn’t recognise upon upon your face, but he was willing to use it for his own purposes if it came to such a crossroads.

“These people…” Daryl cast his eyes momentarily at you again, as though he was pleading for you to remain still and allow him to be the peacemaker. And you subtly nodded, brows drawing together as you concentrated on the group members who had taken up space in your surroundings. “You gon let em go. These are good people.” He was attempting to find some humanity in this man who was leaning like a shadow over you, if there was any. It was the same careful traipse of dialogue that he would use with Merle when he was being inconsiderate before the outbreak, it hardly worked, his brother would laugh and call him a pussy, but Daryl had learned how to use his heart.

It was there to love, and whilst it still felt new, to be loved. These were his people, you were his person, and it was his responsibility to save you. He had tried to protect Beth, and whilst she had gotten out of that mortuary house with her life in tact despite the wave of walkers that had invaded through the front door, she still had to be alive. And so did the others, wherever in the country they were, no one was weak, each of you had your own strengths and that would get you somewhere. It had to.

“Now I-I-I think Lou would disagree with yer on that.” The grey haired man stuttered, and you weren’t sure whether it was due to the lack of respect he felt from Daryl whom he had taken in as one of his own - a stray, or if he felt inferior. You supposed it was the latter, there was a continual pattern with each man that fought for power that you had noticed after your encounters. They feared any soul opposing them, it made them appear frail and insecure, just like the Governor had been with the instances involving Andrea and Michonne. “I’ll of course have to speak for him an’ all because your friends here strangled him in a bathroom.”

Guilt overflowed like a faucet in your throat; you didn’t regret killing ‘Lou’. Rick had been your supporting witness, but there were no longer court trials condemned to determine the punishments for living, instead those that thought they were in control of the passers-by that they encountered - and to them, what fit every crime was death. There was now nought reason for you to brood in your squalor, you could see Daryl’s face, and if that was the last image that you had earned before the end of your life, you were glad. Though you were stubborn to go out fighting, otherwise your entire life after the prison; the tears, the passiveness, and the little amount of blood that had spilt from you would all have been for nothing.

“You want blood, I get it.” Daryl read them, Joe had already killed one of his own men, he wouldn’t hesitate when it came to a found family of strangers. They weren’t good people, they were miscreants that had given him the choice to either join them on their sin induced travelling, or die. And he had been broken, lost and alone, there had been no other choice if he had the intent of surviving in order to drains you. With disregard, he threw his arms in a stance, disarming himself as his crossbow flew out of his hands, falling on the ground, showcasing that he had an offer that Joe would not justify with a refusal “Take it from me man. Come on.”

Your heart swelled, Daryl was putting his own life on the line so that he could save you and your friends. A glaze of emotion was cast over your eyes, as you tried to slow your heartbeat, if you panicked, none of you would get out of this. “This man and woman killed our friend. You say their good people.” It was ironic, if you weren’t so shocked you would have stifled a laugh. These people weren’t friends, there weren’t any tears for their dear Lou, no, they craved any excuse to take and take and take. The revenge they were stubborn with pursuing was only a reason to get their hands bloody, and feel powerful as they got further away from the concept of being a human. “Now that right there i-i-is a lie. It’s a lie!”

Daryl couldn’t bargain through this, they were set in stone when it came to their perception of inflicting both emotional and physical pain. With disappointed defeat, his arms flopped haplessly at his sides, as he continued to stand straight. He had to get through to them! They could budge just a little, he just had to encourage them, make them believe that letting you live was the wrong thing to do. “C’mo-” Before he could continue his pleads to be the centre of violent attention, one of the lowlife claimers wretched their foot into his stomach, causing him to wheeze uncontrollably from the harsh impact.

At the sight alone of him getting hurt, it was on instinct that you prepared to swerve into action. You had to stop this, you had to save him. Your hands scratched against the golden leaves that were all over the ground as you tried to scramble up on your feet, attempting to prevent further bruising or blood withdrawal from Daryl’s body, however a sharp pain flew through your scalp. Joe had grabbed you, maintaining you as his hostage as his fingers weaved aggressively through your hair, forcing you to jut your chin out from the painful discomfort.

“Teach him fellas.” His tone was strong as he beckoned his orders, his deep, soulless eyes twitching from the agitation that had pent up within him. “Teach him all the way.” He ensured that they were aware of what he wanted, and the rest of the claimers were gratified to comply with his protocol of brutality, shoving Daryl up against the frozen vehicle, the clash of his body against it being audible from where you knelt. They threw punch after hateful punch, and Daryl struggled to maintain his stance against them; it was two against one.

“C’mere boy.” The words were growled out through the open car door, as Carl was dragged away from the hiding space. He couldn’t escape, and the claimers were getting the best of your group, and they were in afraid to draw blood. A knife was held firmly against the boy’s throat, and your eyes bulged from the petrifying suspense. Tears slipped from Carl’s blue eyes that had witnessed far too much for his age, and Rick began to panic. Lori had lost her life when she was birthing Judith, who now was also somewhere in the unknown, probably dead. He wouldn’t fail as a father a second time and allow his remaining child to die. “You leave him be!” Rick bellowed, which only made the sick men chuckle at his despair as they held him down from writhing towards an escape to rescue his son.

“Listen it was me! It was just me!” The words shrieked from your lips, as you felt a pool of despair puddle in your eyes. This was all because of you, perhaps if you hadn’t panicked within the moment of entrapment, and you hadn’t forlorn Lou to whichever afterlife lay after the present, then the claimers would have spared you, envisioning you as stragglers that had done no harm. There was a debt to be paid; a score that Joe felt he had to settle, and it was all because of your pathological actions. If anyone had to own up and pay the cost of taking the life of their adjoined associate, it should be you.

They wanted a permanent justice of a life, and you were happy enough to allow them to take it, as long as you were deemed the victim. That said however, if there was a route away from a pledged sentence, you would take it so that your entire family, including you would be spared. You just had to wait for the opportunity to present itself, and then there would be no hesitation on your part. “See now that’s right.” Joe’s words saturated your spine with a discerning flavour of fright, as he pushed the threatening metal harsher against the shell of your brain.

Rick’s eyes drifted in a frantic debauch between his sobbing son, who was thrashing under the weight of the gruesome man who conveyed him as nothing more than an activity; he’d enjoy watching him die; and you, whom was rigid from head to toe. His mind tried its damndest to calculate a way to save you both, you’d become like a sister to him despite the arrogance that you’d greeted him with back at the Atlanta camp, blaming him dreadfully for Merle’s captivity on that rooftop, rather than Merle and his big, loud and agonising mouth that tended to land him in a swarm of trouble. You had always been on Daryl’s side, but now you shared a connection after the fleeting experiences that had doubtlessly backed you against a wall.

“That’s not some damn lie. Look we can settle this, we’re reasonable men.” Joe reasoned with self interest and vengeance, his stone irises scouring languidly down your tense body from above, a little impressed that a woman had managed to withdraw the life of one of his boisterous comrades. His breath heaved down on you, making your skin crawl with distaste. And so he continued, making you all the more seasoned with spite. “First we’re gonna beat Daryl to death. Then your friend next to you. Then the other girl. Then the boy. And then we shoot you and then we’ll be square.” His maniacal laugh retorted in an echo, as his words truly sunk in. There had been enough devastation, and you viewed each of those you cared for with compassion.

Carl was writhing across the golden leaves that appeared gray beneath the silver moon, leaking from his tear ducts with agonising fear. Rick was stern with his demanding pleas that did nothing but resort humour into the audience that had you at gun point. Michonne was wide eyes and prepared for any intrusion that could occur, silently realising that you would be the culprit to begin a ravenous fight. And Daryl, god Daryl was swinging his arm back as much as he was able, losing against the two men that had the delight of using him as a punching bag. You couldn’t wait any longer, no one was on their way to save you, there was no other choice but try again, planning on a physical tactic this time.

“Let them go.” You hissed dangerously thro the your teeth, flickering your eyes around one last time, managing to make eye contact with Michonne, the gun against her braided head remind you that it was now or never. Joe felt hilarity from your demand, and you repeated it in an increased volume, distracting him with the sound of your voice before you threw your head back, whacking the man behind you with a mind numbing force. The bang of a bullet stirred a hazy cast across your field of vision, spiring a high pitched scream of white noise in your ears, but it was worth it. Joe had stumbled aback, the impact having arose a newfound course of adrenaline to fluster through your pumping veins.

With the rush that jolted you into a spiralling spree of sudden action, you span around, standing upon your two feet as you threw a heavy punch to your enemy’s tired face, a concerned look transpiring upon Rick’s face, as Daryl failed with unfortunate consequences to prevail in his hand to hand combat hustle. In return, you had earned a blow to the face, the force of Joe’s fist causing you to be upon the floor once again. “Oh it’s gonna be so much worse now.” To support his promise, his foot met with your ribs, causing a holler and a pained gasp to escape you; there would no doubt be a bruise left if you survived this assault.

Another slap brandished your face with a stinging hue, as you stumbled up, staggering slightly as you did your best to focus on winning this physical battle. “Come on, get up! Come on, let’s see whatcha got.” He was teasing you, drowning you with anger from the mockery he betrothed you with, as a red line ran pleasantly from his nose. “C’mere!” He growled, prompting you for more, and to see his blood spill was a divine gift, even as he breathed disgustedly against you as he grabbed you by the waist, holding you in front of his body. “What the hell you gonna do now slut?”

There was no possibility of escaping his grip with your form alone, he was a sturdy man, albeit an evil one, but he had you in his monstrous clutch. Your brain racked with a free flow of a matching immoral high ground, and thus you thought of the walkers, and how they took life. Your noggin tossed back in a flurry of monstrosity, your teeth gnashing until they pried formlessly upon his throat, the flesh running between each porcelain tooth as you found purchase in the skin, tugging with animosity, until the torn fragment of his body was pulled away, blood spattering in a revolted spray from your mouth.

The claimer gradually fell, pausing his team from their desolate nature of commanding death as their leader met his end, laying in a lifeless pile on the ground. Michonne and Rick pursued their captor’s, sweeping their lives away in a more sophisticated fashion than you had, and Daryl gained the upper hand from your repulsive distraction. As Rick fled from where he had knelt, he sprinted to pursue Carl’s release, as you remained still, shocked with your own tactile second nature. Your face was half covered in blood, like you were a young child whom had gotten into their mother’s makeup bag, but that wasn’t the reality. You shook, astounded with trauma.

Arms coiled around you, as Daryl held your crimson chin in his hand, looking lovingly at you despite the circumstances that had lead to your freedom. “Sunshine.” The term was distinctly ironic, but the cigarette husk that adorned his throat remained full of love. Since the outbreak you had all had to complete extensive steps to remain breathing, and your breath stuttered as you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in your archer’s chest, but he held your head up, as he dragged the red rag from his pocket, swiping across the stain that made the rag even redder. As you looked around yourself, you saw past the massacre and felt relief.

This was home; these people, especially the one right in front of you. His hand stroked roughly against your cheek as a long, heartfelt peck was planted upon your forehead. He had found you, in this sick world that had all of you lost. You smiled at him, resting your forehead against his as you shared a harmonious breath. “I’m just happy your alive Dixie.” You tried to uplift the mood, as did Rick and Michonne, as they fussed with care over Carl. Daryl couldn’t care less for the state that you were displayed in, he pulled you closer, unable to resist your lips. You shared a kiss, it was passionate and filled with circumstantial desperation, your hands pulled at his neck as you tried to get his face closer.

You could only move on from this happening, there was no dwelling. There was no guilt bore in your chest, those that tried ripping you apart deserved a worse fate, and you had only been fair since considering the consequences they had imposed on forcing you to experience. The Governor was the same, and so would the next foolish soul that failed the lengths that you would all go through to protect each other. You felt sick from the vehemence that had concurred from your body, but you had found more pieces of your familial puzzle, and you had every intention of finding the rest.

#daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon oneshot #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon angst #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon fic

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astralis-ortus · 4 months

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weighted blankets and projector

✱ a bang chan headcanon

— as long as you're happy, then chan is happy too.

w.count → 0.6k genre → fluff. very soft fluff. warning → none! a.n → originally wanted this to be a single post with streetlights and warm nights, but the fluff would be out of control (and i got too delirious to actually continue writing lol) sooo here's the second part! ⋆ see masterlist

although chan loves adventures, he also doesn’t mind spending your date nights inside.

foods and games would be the most important factor chan takes into consideration. your pool of dinner choices might be a little more limited when you’re bound to a certain location, but that’s what his little games are for.

you’re feeling like having some fried chicken? of course he’ll get them for you, but make sure you win the rounds of truth or dare or you might not be able to get even a single bite of those golden goodness (who are you kidding—he’ll definitely cave once you put on your puppy eyes, just like how seungmin taught you). hot pot night? no worries, his uno cards will help you two determine whether your dinner of the night follows his mild tastebuds or your daring ones. chan will get your every dinner requests, and put a fun twist on them just to see your smile.

when all the food is gone, chan would then pull out the weighted blanket he bought and kept especially for your date nights, all under the pretense of ‘i heard it’s good for you’ (when in actuality, he just needed wanted a tiny extra help in keeping you glued to his side).

what you’ll be doing from then on is a free arena—there are days where you’d just talk for hours on end, laughing at whatever silly things each other would say. on other days, you’d spin a wheel and let fate choose which of your all time favorite movies will you be rewatching that night (which, oddly enough, mostly fell to either the deadpool series or a few ghibli movies). there are also days where both of you decided to just melt next to each other while doing your own thing—chan with his laptop, while you, on the other hand, finishes the book you’ve been dying to read all throughout the week.

just as you’re about to feel drowsy after all fully digesting your dinner, chan would then draw a warm bath for you to relax in, bath bombs and all. he’d always tell you to take your time when you’re having your bath; he needed the extra time to pick out your set of matching pajamas set (yes, he wears one too), as well as setting up the candles and the new galaxy light projector he just bought a couple days ago. you once told him it looked pretty, and being the good boyfriend and devoted astrophile he is, of course he remembered it.

if your bath was chan’s way of taking care of you, then you doing his skin and hair care routine is your way of taking care of chan. you always treasure every opportunities you have to be so up close with him, taking note of his features while he’s surrendered under your gentle touch. you’d note every single speck of his freckles, every stray curls on his forehead, every faint smile lines he had etched over the years on the surface of his skin, which only grew in definition after he met you.

and you fall in love again.

maybe a little bit harder,

maybe a lot deeper.

now all warm and cuddled up under the layer of comfy duvet, you finally snuggled close to chan, allowing his body heat to entirely encapsulate you. the echo of his heartbeat is loud and clear, turning you all blush and giggly while sleep gently knocks on your eyelids. chan would say a couple things—noting how nice your new shampoo smelled, or how soft the layer of pajama is over your skin, but when he noticed your absence of reply, his smile would soften as he watches your sleeping face. chan would place a kiss on your forehead and held you tighter, wishing that even in his dream, the only person he would see is you.

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

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springsylph · 12 days

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+18, mdni. uhhh tiny gaz x f! reader thing?? i don’t know. wrote this on my phone and she’s unedited. also. the ending is getting cut short because i said so.

mentions of alcohol, fingering, pussy slapping (1)

thinking about introverted reader showing up to a college party with every intention of leaving once that stupid hello kitty clock on the shelf hits 11:30.

it helps that you enter the apartment with your headphones already on; most people weren’t willing to put in the extra work to talk to someone so obviously prepped to leave.

you get there at 11:15—no earlier—because you’ve got a 15 minute routine when it comes to shit like this. show your face, hide, and leave before the drinking games get rowdy enough to warrant having the police bust their knuckles open on the front door.

granted, you really did try to stick this one out. your closest friend—who, apparently, was much closer to the organizer of this thing than she was to you—had dragged you along with her after as a show of goodwill. something about getting you out of the apartment long enough for people to know that you have tits.

which, in hindsight, should have been a warning. the split of a train whistle just before it veers off the tracks.

the living room, painted with bits of a fiery orange from some dodgy led lights, has begun to sting your eyes. you’re plastered to the corner in a top that isn’t yours, trying (and failing) to breathe air that’s too hot, too sticky, drenched in a mix of sweat and some idiot’s cheap cologne. the cup you hold only catches glimpses of the music, pulsating in time with the wall. it’s basically empty, but you hold it like it’s heavy. most of the people around you are already too inebriated to know the difference.

the crash comes when someone taps two fingers on your elbow.

“headphones at a party?”

your reaction is slow. when you turn, your first thought is that you’ve seen his face on a pack of men’s underwear somewhere. he must be thinking something similar, because he leans up against the wall like he’s in it for the long haul before sizing you up.

“i’ve seen you somewhere before, haven’t i? ‘round campus?”

you shrug to ward off the urge to shrink. “maybe,” you reply. “i don’t think my face is that memorable, but i appreciate the attempt at a pickup line.”

he smiles, then, like he does know you. brown eyes glowing like hot coals.

“not quite what i meant,” he says, “but i think you look plenty memorable.”

a squirmy feeling in your throat you thought you’d flattened a lifetime ago resurfaces. fuck—fuck. of course that isn’t what he meant. embarrassment is what begins to peel your sweaty back off the wall. you’ll have to apologize to your friend later, but the empty hallway is calling your name.

just as you’re about to excuse yourself, he slides a warm hand up to your shoulder, just a little too close to where it meets your neck. you shoot him a look, and he beams.

“loud in here, isn’t it?” he taps his ears. leans a little closer, even though the music isn’t that loud, and lowers his voice as if confessing some dirty secret. “truth is, i hate showing up to these things.”

your brows furrow. “…you do?”

he scoots a little closer, crowding you into the corner. “too many people i have to play nice with. the only reason i’m here is to make sure my roommates stay out of trouble.”

“oh. you—you live here?”

“unfortunately. but,” he divulges, “that also means i know the best hiding spots.” a decision is made—one final spark that sets the train ablaze. he slides an arm over your shoulders, thumb tracing absentmindedly over the strap of your top as his weight settles over you. “looking for some peace and quiet, right?”

you can’t tell if he’s being nice, or if he’s just a little weird. weird, only because he seems a little too perfect.

you have a tendency to resonate with weirdos. mostly to your detriment.

but—you’re not quite sure how you’d categorize this.

he’s got you sitting on his bed, back pressed to his chest with a hand shoved down the front of your underwear—no outside clothes on the bed, love—before you know what’s happening.

you gasp when the elbow he’s got hooked around your neck tips your chin up.

“kyle—”

“shh, shh. what’d i tell you, sweetheart?”

“f-focus, i—hck—know, but—”

he slaps a wet hand over your cunt, and your vision goes spotty. you’re not sure how long he’s been knuckle deep inside of you. between the grunting in the shell of your ear and the sound of your own arousal filling the small room, you’ve lost track of time.

kyle presses a firm kiss to the crown of your head before sliding two fingers back in.

“not so bad, is it?” he coos, allowing himself another kiss to your temple. “just needed a firm hand to keep you company, that’s all.”

he grinds the heel of his palm up against your clit, interrupting the lazy pace he’s set when you writhe against him. it doesn’t deter him like you thought it would, evident by the way his hand seems to pull your pelvis closer to where his cock has hardened in his boxers.

your hips jump when he curls his fingers over that spongy spot inside of you. mind fuzzy, ears ringing, you watch with him. entranced by the languid push and pull of his hand, the sight now blurry from the tears clumping your eyelashes together.

“no reason a pretty girl like you should be out here by herself,” he mutters. half to himself, maybe to you. he slides his sticky hand out, pulls the mess up to your bellybutton before plunging his fingers into your folds again. “fuck—and you feel divine—”

your walls tremble around him when the arm around your neck tightens ever so slightly.

“kyle, i—”

you what?

go on, tell him. he’s listening. there’s nobody here, except for the two of you.

“please let me cum, please please p-please—”

but kyle is in his own world, moves on his own time, with his own rules, and you’re under his jurisdiction.

you should know this by now.

he yanks his fingers out just as that cord in your belly has become nothing more than a thread before stuffing his digits into your open mouth.

he doesn’t have to tell you what to do. suck. but, as your tongue lolls out to swipe around his fingers, you catch his eye from over your shoulder.

you’re not too sure you know what you’re looking at.

#gaz-attack #gaz x female reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod fic #gaz x you #idk what happened

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a060403 · 10 months

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𝐀 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: R18, smutt, afab!reader, established relationship, unprotected p in v, office sex, explicit language, long story ahead, not proofread, grammatical errors, oneshot

✒ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐀/𝐍: Hello, I hope you enjoy this piece. I'm sorry for the grammatical errors ahead, English is not my first language but I do try to fix it.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈!!!

The office was bustling with activity as usual, but today, there seemed to be an extra layer of tension in the air. Miguel had been working on a particularly difficult project for weeks now, and it looked like things were finally coming to a head. His client had set an unrealistic deadline, and Miguel was starting to feel the pressure.

He sat hunched over his desk, eyes fixed on the computer screen as he typed furiously. The coffee cup beside him was empty, forgotten. His stomach growled audibly, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He tried to push the hunger pangs aside and focus on the task at hand. As the hours ticked by, Miguel felt his stress levels rising. His mind was racing, trying to find a solution to the problem that seemed insurmountable.

Sweat began to bead on his forehead despite the cold air conditioning in the room. He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear his head, but it only made the world around him blurrier. Finally, when it felt like time had stopped moving altogether, Miguel's phone vibrated on his desk. He glanced at the screen, half-expecting it to be another email from his client, but instead, it was a text from you.

“Hey, just checking in on you,” you wrote. “It's been a while since I've heard from you. Are you okay?” He took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up straight. His shoulders were tight with tension, and he realized how much stress he had been holding onto. He typed out a quick reply.

“I'm fine, just swamped with work. I promise I'll make it up to you tonight.” As he hit send, he felt a tiny bit of the weight lift off his chest. Maybe you could help him unwind after all this was over. Or maybe they could take a break together tomorrow—something to look forward to amidst all the chaos. For now, though, Miguel turned back to his computer screen and redoubled his efforts to meet that impossible deadline.

A knock brought him out of focus and he dragged his eyes away from his laptop screen and towards the office door. He blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision, and looked up at the clock. 7 PM. “Hey baby,” you gleamed and entered his office.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice sounding rougher than he expected. He stood up and stretched, trying to work out the kinks in his back. “I didn't realize it was so late.”

You closed the door behind you and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. You rested your head on his chest, and Miguel felt a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “How's your day so far?” you asked softly. Miguel looked down at you, feeling a pang of guilt for neglecting you all day. “Tiring, I might have to stay late again for tonight,” he sighed. “What brings you here?”

“Well, I was thinking of giving you a hand… seems like you need it.” You said, kissing his jawline. His body tensed in contact. A shaky breath escaped his mouth when he felt your lips travel down his neck. “Mmm,” He murmured softly, closing his eyes as you continued to trail gentle kisses along his jawline and up toward his earlobe.

“You know, I can't tell if you're trying to distract me or help me focus right now,” he chuckled, leaning back against the desk with a sigh. You smiled up at him, your hands resting on his chest. “Maybe both?” Miguel shook his head, smiling. “I don't know how you do it,” he said, running a finger through your hair. “But I appreciate it.” He pulled you closer, your bodies pressing together in an intimate embrace. “Now let's go get some food so we can actually talk about something other than work for once.”

He grabbed your hand and led you towards the door. As soon as you were outside, he pulled you into a tight embrace. “I missed you today,” he whispered against your ear. Miguel wrapped his arms around you, feeling the tension from earlier start to melt away. “I missed you too,” you replied, nuzzling his neck. “But you're always so busy.”

“I know,” he sighed, pulling back to look at you. “But I promise we'll make up for it tomorrow.” He leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips, his hands running soothingly up and down your back. You could feel the heat between them building once again as he pressed his body against yours.

“Come on,” he murmured after a moment, breaking the kiss reluctantly. “Maybe we can find somewhere more comfortable to continue this conversation.” He winked at you playfully, tugging gently on your hand as they walked towards the parking lot together.

You found a small, cozy restaurant tucked away in the corner of their neighborhood. The atmosphere was dimly lit, with soft music playing in the background, creating an intimate ambiance that felt miles away from the hustle and bustle of their office building.

Miguel ordered some wine to share and spent the next hour or so just talking about anything but work—your favorite movies, your dream vacation spots, and even some silly childhood memories. As you both sipped on your drinks and savored each bite of food, you couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment with him.

When you finally finished eating, Miguel took out his phone to check the time again (a habit he couldn't seem to shake), only to find that it was much later than he thought. “Wow,” he said, looking up at you with a sheepish grin. “I guess we really got caught up.”

“Don't worry about it,” you replied with a smile. “We both needed this.” He reached across the table and took your hand in his. “Come on,” he continued. “Let's head back.” You left the restaurant hand in hand, feeling more relaxed and connected than you had all day.

As you walked down the street together, Miguel's arm brushed against your shoulder every now and then, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine. When you finally reached his office, he took your hand and led you inside. The room was dimly lit as well, casting long shadows across the floor as you made your way to his desk. He loosened his tie before turning around to face you.

“So,” he began softly, running a finger along your jawline. “What was it you said earlier, hmm? Giving me a hand?” You bit your lower lip nervously as he stepped closer, bringing his body flush against yours. His breath was warm against your ear as he whispered, “How about we make use of that right now?”

Miguel lifted you onto his desk, he couldn't help but feel a surge of desire course through him. Your legs were spread wide, offering yourself to him in an unmistakable invitation. With trembling hands, he reached down and cupped your soft mound, feeling the heat radiating off it as he began to massage gently.

“Miguel,” you whispered hoarsely, arching your back as his touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. He teased at the sensitive folds between your legs before pressing slowly inside. You cried out softly at the sensation, hips jerking involuntarily. His other hand found its way to one of your breasts, squeezing and pinching the nipple as he took control of your body with both hands.

You whimpered, leaning into his touch. “Oh God, Miguel...I need you.” He looked into your eyes, his own filled with desire. “Estoy aquí, mi vida. Voy a cuidar de ti bien.” He murmured before leaning in to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Miguel positioned himself between your legs, his cock at the entrance of your wet and eager pussy. He rubbed the head against your sensitive folds, teasing you with the promise of pleasure to come. “You're so beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you softly on the lips. His fingers traced gentle circles around your entrance, spreading your folds wider apart as he prepared to enter you.

With a deep breath, he pushed forward, slowly inserting his thick cock into your tight heat. You gasped as he filled you up, feeling every inch of him stretching you out. His hands moved to your hips, holding you still as he began to thrust in and out. The sensation was exquisite—the fullness, the depth, the feeling of being completely claimed by him. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and you arched your back, pressing your breast against his chest. Your hips undulated in time with his rhythm, begging for more.

His tongue danced with yours, exploring every inch of your mouth as he began to thrust harder inside you. You moaned loudly against his lips, needing more of him. With one last glance at you, Miguel allowed himself to give in to the passion that had been building between them. As his pace quickened, his free hand slid down your body until it found its way to your clit. He started rubbing it in circles, adding another layer of pleasure to an already intense experience.

You continued to moan his name, and his own pleasure intensified. His hips bucked against yours in time with the thrusts of his cock as he reached for your clit again. He rubbed it harder, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The desk beneath you creaked under the force of your movements. You could feel the heat between your legs building up, ready to explode at any moment.

“That's it,” Miguel whispered hoarsely against your lips. “Let go for me.” With one final thrust, he plunged deep inside you, filling you completely. And then you both did—you screamed out his name as your orgasm crashed over you in a wave of blissful release.

His hot seed filled you up, and together you panted and shook from the intensity of their shared experience. As your heart rate slowed and the world around you started to fade back into focus, Miguel leaned in for another kiss, this one tender and full of love.

𝐀/𝐍: I do not own any of the pictures and are solely from Pinterest.

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solefae · 6 months

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THE NEW DIVA. jimmy uso

SUMMARY ── jimmy can’t keep his eyes off the new diva

It was 2014 and Monday Night RAW was electric as always in the Allstate Arena near Chicago. Backstage, Zahra was buzzing with nerves in her debut match against AJ Lee later on. As the newest signee to WWE's roster of Divas, she was determined to show all the haters doubting the biracial beauty.

Of course, having the entire locker room behind her certainly helped calm the jitters. Well, almost the entire room - as Zahra stretched in the corner warming up, she couldn't help notice a certain blue chipper Samoan's lingering gaze from across the way.

Jimmy Uso had been in the company for a couple years now tearing it up alongside his brother Jey, and Zahra had admired him from afar since her FCW days. But this was the first time they were really interacting beyond friendly hellos in passing.

Her heart fluttered when he finally sauntered over, checking out her toned physique on display in her tiny wrestling gear unabashedly. "Aye girl you look ready to kill it out there. Mind if I spot ya?" Jimmy offered in that addictive baritone, already leading her over to the weights.

"Appreciate it, could always use an extra set of eyes. Especially from a pro like you," Zahra replied coyly, laying back on the bench to start pumping out reps under his watchful gaze. His large hands guided the bar smoothly, lingering a few extra beats each time she brought it down to brush her ample chest teasingly.

"Damn you strong too, know you gon hold that gold belt one day for sure ma. And definitely got them looks to match, bet all the fellas tryna holla," Jimmy flirted smoothly in return, leaning down to murmur the compliment lowly in her ear. Zahra shivered despite the sweltering heat coursing through her veins, equal parts nerves and want now.

"Maybe. But only got eyes for one man out here if he's interested too," she shot back playfully once he helped sit her up, unable to resist brushing her fingers along his bulging arm tantalizingly. The look Jimmy gave her in return had Zahra practically melting like putty in his strong hands already.

"Guess we'll have to continue this conversation after your match shawty. Break a leg out there - I'll be watchin extra close," he promised darkly, punctuating the offer with a lingering kiss to the back of her hand that had her head spinning the rest of prep. This match was about to be way more fun than anticipated now.

Sure enough, Zahra felt Jimmy's intense gaze burning into her the entire time in the ring against AJ. She flew around that canvas like the veteran she was training to be, putting on a clinic and thrillng the packed stadium. When she locked AJ into thesubmission for the clean pin, the roar was deafening as confetti rained down celebrating the new princess of WWE officially.

After a crushing hug from all her girls backstage in congratulations, Zahra began searching the crowded hallway eagerly for Jimmy, needing that follow up chat more than ever buzzing off her high. Spotting his towering frame leaned casually outside the showers, she sauntered over confidently, heart bursting.

"So you liked what you saw out there big boy?" Zahra purred brazenly, fisting her tiny hands in his open shirt to drag him into the empty locker room teasingly. Jimmy couldn't resist cupping her supple cheeks, eyes already lidded and dark like a starving man shown an endless buffet.

"Goddamn ma you know you take my breath away. Can't stop thinkin bout gettin my hands all over that sexy lil body," he groaned hungrily, backing her into the locker to hike her leg high around his muscular hips. Zahra whimpered helplessly feeling his thick manhood straining against her throbbing core through their thin barriers, lips locking desperately.

"Then take me already daddy, been wanting you forever," she urged breathlessly, tugging his jersey over his head eagerly. Their clothing disappeared in a flurry, lips and tongues mapping out every new inch of glistening skin fervently. Jimmy lifted her with ease, sinking home between her folds in one smooth glide that had them both crying out at the sensation.

"You feel so damn good n tight on this dick, fuck!" he grunted already, setting a blissful punishing pace in and out of her quivering heat. Zahra could only sob and beg shamelessly for more, hands clawing down his sculpted back as her first orgasm approached fast and mercilessly under his skilled ministrations.

Jimmy was determined to test her stamina after that electrifying showing, pounding into her greedy pussy relentlessly against the metallic lockers. Zahra came again and again, gushing around his thick member each time with increasing intensity until Jimmy finally spilled deep inside her with an animalistic growl of completion.

Collapsing in a sweaty euphoric tangle afterwards, neither could find it in themselves to regret giving into temptation so thoroughly. "Damn ma was worth the wait," Jimmy eventually mumbled against her hair softly, pressing sweet kisses along her heaving collarbones adoringly.

Zahra only smiled dreamily, tracing the lines of his handsome face tenderly as her heart swelled bursting with joy and belonging. "This is just the beginning for us. Who knows what we'll accomplish together," she whispered back confidently, knowing in her soul their story had only just begun unfolding...

taglist aka my loves! ⇩

@kumapassion @truefant4sy

@yeaiamme2 @cody-uso

@riverina69 @shantinextdoor

@christinabae @empressdede

(lemme know if you want to be added/removed!) 🤍✨

©solefae.

#jimmy uso #jimmy uso smut #jey uso x fem reader #jimmy uso imagine #jimmy uso x reader #jimmy uso x oc

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lesuccube · 11 months

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➚ 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 : ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇɴ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ — ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘꜱ

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — just a little lip scrub magic .

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 — fluff infection

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 — not beta'd , constructive criticism is welcomed . reblogs and comments are appreciated .

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 — 1.2k

it's another friday night for you and steven and as per usual, the brit finds himself within the comforts of your home dressed in his comfiest pajamas he's long since left in your place, smelling much like your fabric softener, cherries and vanilla.

he's got his wild and untamed curls pushed back by a fluffy headband, a blue one to match your pink headband, and sporting a facemask that's about to hit the 15 minute mark. you were still in the bathroom, washing your face and applying oils to your skin, only halfway into your routine.

the door's been left slightly ajar, with him occasionally peeking in to keep you company or to ask how far along you were, too excited to help you put on the remaining bits of your skincare to wait for you patiently. you don't mind it, though more than half the time you'd end up splashing him with some water out of surprise. he's got pretty silent footsteps for someone as clumsy as him.

he sits on your living room couch, surfing through channels for something to watch (which definitely becomes white noise after a while since none of you pay attention to whatever's showing anyways) and settles for a 90's slasher film. he doesn't know the title but it's either that or a rom-com, something he's surprisingly not in the mood for.

he's got a nervous energy about him that he can't place, thrumming in his veins as if he's been injected an additional dose of antsiness. he fidgets in his seat and plays with the hem of his loose sweater, trying to watch but his mind pulls his focus somewhere else. you.

it's almost as if he's suddenly hyper aware of your presence, as if he hasn't been doing this with you for months now. how close you two can get and how touchy he gets anytime you're within arms length from him.

only when he feels the couch dip with another person's weight does he snap out of his daze, cheeks flushed under the sheet mask that you gingerly peel away with expert ease. steven's staring at you now, there's an emotion in his eyes you can't exactly name, or maybe you're just a little too scared to admit to yourself he's looking at you a little love-drunk.

you crumple up the used mask and place it on your coffee table next to a few items you had brought with you. unlike steven, you weren't putting on a facemask today, you had another thing in mind to cover up: your lips.

it's been cracking and drying up recently even with a thick layer of lip gloss or lip oil and you weren't about to have any of that (not when you've started catching steven stare at your lips for a while now). you rip open a new sheet, placing the too big lip mask over your own, rubbing the essence to ensure all of it gets absorbed. all the while steven's just been staring at you, watching you with rapt attention.

you struggled to laugh as you poked his nose, breaking him out of his trance as he blubbers out a string of apologies you shushed by placing a finger on his lips, being unable to speak and all, but your eyes squint with a hint of a smile. the next fifteen minutes were spent in silence, you scrolling through your phone while waiting for the time and steven finishing up the last of his own skincare routine.

once your timer goes off, you peel off the lip mask and smack your lips for extra measure. piling it on top of steven's crumpled up face sheet, you grab a tiny pink jar next for the last steo of your routine for the night: your lip scrub.

twisting the cap off, a faint scent of strawberry filling your nose. but before you can dip a finger in, steven covers the jar with a palm and a shy smile. "d'you mind if i do that for you, love?"

surprised and a little flustered, you wordlessly hand it over to steven, watching him scoot closer to you on the tiny loveseat. with a shaky gentleness, he dips his middle finger into the sugar scrub and takes a good amount, swiping the slightly rough formula over your moisturized lips.

the scrub was sticky and the scent of fruits and vanilla filled your nose, the close proximity of steven to you causes your heart to stutter and your cheeks to heat up. he looked even prettier up close.

untamed curls swept back by the headband, his usually relaxed brows knit together in absolute focus. steven's bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he concentrates on the way his finger swipes over the plushness of your own lips and his eyes, gods, his eyes.

clouded with a slight haze, a mix of emotions you can't all quite place swirling between earthy hues and in the harsh light of the tv, looks like warm chocolate

the way he looked at your lips sent a heat to your belly intensified by the way he massages the scrub over your lips with such gentleness. steven won't show the same attitude when he does his own lip scrub. the contrast has butterflies fluttering in your stomach because he's being gentle for you.

after a long, painstaking three and a half minutes (you were counting in your head to distract yourself from thinking thoughts that don't belong to your friendship), he rubs your lips clean off the sugar with a hand towel. you released a breath you didn't know you were holding, unconsciously licking your lips and tasting the sweet taste of sugar and strawberries lingering on your lips.

"thanks." you whispered, almost breathlessly, lashes fluttering as you look at steven. steven who hasn't taken his eyes off your lips not once since he asked to do your scrub. he's been staring at them with such intensity it almost knocks the breath out of your lungs.

and when he finally does look up, he looks at you with a darkened gaze, heavy with a want and desire you've never seen before. your breath hitches yet steven doesn't falter, his own breathing heavy with restraint. like he's trying not jump on your bones.

voice strained, like the act of asking his question hurt, "may i?" and aside from the clear arousal brewing within those beautiful warm eyes, lies a hint of desperation. deep down, you had a hunch saying no would crush him. he's inching closer and closer, your breaths mingling with each other, noses brushing. he looks hopeful as he is desperate.

you nod twice and steven does not hesitate to press his lips on your lips, palm on your cheek as he tilts your head like he's about devour you whole.

steven kisses like a man starved and you were the first meal he's had in a really long time. he tasted like mint toothpaste and lychee and something inherently steven, it makes you moan softly against his lips.

you pull away first to catch your breath, willing air back to your lungs but steven, sweet steven, chases after you. he can't get enough of it, the feel of your lips on his, the aftertaste of your lip scrub hanging on to your lips and he's addicted. within the first touch, he's completely and utterly addicted to you and steven thinks to himself that he may never recover from you.

"taste so sweet…" he mumbles against you, "so good, love. wanna taste more, can i? please, can i kiss you again?"

#👤 — user : kira #📂 — file : steven grant #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight fanfiction #moon knight imagine #moon knight fluff #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant fanfiction #steven grant imagine #steven grant fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Waiting

Sequel to Stress Relief and Right Through Me

Warnings: noncon, housewife kink, fear, mommy kink if you squint.

Even though it’s a drabble, I do appreciate any comments and feedback you have. Thanks for reading!

👗👗👗

"Honey," Clark's voice draws your hooded eyes open.

You groan and sit forward with effort, gripping your aching hip as you push yourself forward. You slip your hand over your bump as you use the arm rest to stand, your back racking with the extra weight. You rub the top of your stomach as your skirt flutters at the top of your thighs.

"All done," he steps back as you peek into bedroom, the crip set up against the wall, "you like it?"

It's real. As if the changes in your body didn't confirm that. Yet seeing the wooden bars and tiny mattress makes your chest sink.

"Yes," you waddle over to touch the rail, "thanks. It must've been a lot of work."

He swipes back a damp curl down his forehead and smiles, "baby will be here soon, so…"

You peek over the top and down into the bed. As you do, you sense him shift, coming up behind you and placing his hands beside yours on the rail. He pens you in so your stomach touches the wood. He bends and nuzzles your neck.

"You're glowing," he purrs as his hand wanders to yours and trails down your arm.

"Am I?" You quiver.

He feels along your side, stretching his hand over your round stomach. The baby kicks and he hums in response. He breathes across your scalp and kisses the top of your head, dipping low to the hem of your skirt. The clothes that you can fit into are noticeably smaller but he doesn't mind.

"Mmm, yeah," he frames your hip with his other hand and guides you back. You cling to the rail as he angles you before him. "I need you, mommy."

He caresses your ass and lifts the bottom of your skirt, tapping your ass as he growls. You close your eyes and squeeze the side of the crib. Earlier, you couldn't finish breakfast without him grabbing at you. Likely, little better than the child that was coming due.

He pushes his hand down to feel your cunt, spreading you as he jostles behind you. The soft whisper of his zipper and a rustle before you feel his turgid tip prodding at you. He bends his knees and lines himself up, wrapping his finger over yours on the rail.

He slides into you and you grunt, trying to soften it to a moan. He sighs as he impales you to his limit and slips his hand to feel your ring with his thumb. He grips your shoulder with his other as you sling your arm under your stomach, trying to ease the strain on your spine.

He snaps his hip as his impatience breaks through and you whimper, closing your eyes as the crip creaks with the force of his thrust.

"Fuck, mommy," his fingers curl into your shoulder as he ruts again, "you take daddy so good."

#clark kent #dark clark kent #dark!clark kent #clark kent x reader #dark drabble #drabble #dark!drabble #dcu #dc #superman

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moodymelanist · 1 year

Note

Professor cassian and student nesta smut?

hope you don't mind that it's just ~roleplay~

accepting kinktober prompts all october long! any acotar couples i've written for are fair game (not just nessian, although I certainly love wrting those freaks getting freaky)

Cassian had asked Nesta to give him a few minutes to set their office up for today’s game, which mostly involved putting one of their dining room chairs in front of his desk and making sure the curtains were firmly shut.

The neighbors certainly didn’t need to catch a glimpse of whatever was going to happen in here.

There wasn’t really much else for him to do other than twiddle his thumbs, so Cassian took a seat behind his desk. Just as he got comfortable, a knock sounded on the door, and he didn’t fight his smile at Nesta’s punctuality. He’d said ten minutes, and that was exactly what she’d given him.

"Come in," Cassian called. He pretended to shuffle some papers around just for something to do with his hands as his girlfriend opened the door, and then he was gripping the pages so tightly he half-worried he was going to rip something.

Nesta had gone for the stereotypical schoolgirl outfit, complete with a white buttoned-up shirt, tiny plaid skirt, and even a little matching plaid tie. Her legs looked long and muscular and Cassian wanted them wrapped around him even more than usual, which was saying something.

"Professor," Nesta greeted him after a moment, leaning against the doorframe with an innocent look on her face. Her skirt was so short it was a miracle he couldn't see her underwear. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Cassian took a deep breath so he wouldn't lose it right there. "Yes, I did. Have a seat, Miss Archeron."

"Okay." Nesta closed the door behind her and slid into the chair facing his desk. "Did I do something wrong, sir?"

"You failed your last test," he told her, running with the first thing that popped into his brain. She'd graduated summa cum laude from both undergrad and law school, so it was probably the first time she'd ever heard the words before. "At the rate you're going, you won't pass my class."

"Oh no," she replied with overexaggerated concern. To really sell it, she gave him a little frown and added, "Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?"

"At this point?” he answered, pretending to think about it for a few seconds before releasing a heavy sigh. “I’m not sure there’s anything to be done.”

"I need this class to graduate, sir,” Nesta said pleadingly. She leaned forward and shifted her weight onto her elbows, the motion stretching her already-tight shirt nearly to the point of no return. “Is there really nothing I can do?”

“Well…” he trailed off with another sigh. “I suppose there might be an opportunity for extra credit.”

“I’ll do anything,” she told him, her eyes going big and pleading. He loved her when she was all sharp edges, but he wouldn’t lie — this was really doing it for him, too. “Please?”

“This has to stay between us, Miss Archeron,” he responded. “I can’t have the other students finding out about any… preferential treatment. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” she agreed quickly. “I’m good at keeping my mouth full — I mean, shut.”

“Is that so?” Cassian asked, smirking. He’d mostly been thinking about bending her over the desk and fucking her until she cried, but he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity she’d handed him. “Why don’t you come over here and prove it?”

Nesta got out of her chair and slowly walked around the corner of the desk, giving Cassian more than enough time to appreciate how beautiful she was. She’d left her hair down for once instead of her usual coronet, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was so he could dig his hands in while he fucked her face.

She was thoughtful like that. It was one of the many reasons why he loved her.

“How do you want me, sir?” Nesta asked, coming to a stop right next to him.

Cassian turned in his chair so he was facing her, pressing one of his hands to her bare thigh. Her skin was soft and a little cool as usual, and right on cue, she shivered at the heat pouring off him. “On your knees.”

He inhaled sharply as she sunk to her knees, somehow managing not to break eye contact as she reached for the zipper on his pants. He couldn’t help his groan as she took him out of his pants and gave him a quick stroke, and when she ran her thumb across the head he couldn’t help another, louder groan.

“How bad do you want to pass, sweetheart?” Cassian asked, his cock hard and hot in her hand.

“A lot, sir,” Nesta answered. She blinked up at him before letting go of his cock so she could unbutton her shirt, revealing a dark red bra that emphasized the perfect size of her breasts. “Can I show you?”

“Yeah,” he agreed, reaching out to gather her hair into a messy ponytail. “If you do a good enough job… maybe you’ll pass my class after all.”

“Anything for an A,” she replied. She pulled his pants down lower for better access and returned her hand to his cock with a smirk of her own. “Sir.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he retorted, pulling her head closer to his cock. “Why don’t you focus on getting a D, yeah? That’s a passing grade, isn’t it?”

Nesta rolled her eyes at his joke but opened her mouth to suck Cassian down anyway. She gave him a few tentative bobs of her head before she took more of him, and he groaned at the feeling of all that wet heat surrounding his cock. “Fuck, that’s it.”

“So fucking gorgeous,” Cassian murmured, enraptured. He couldn’t look away from the obscene stretch of Nesta’s lips around his cock, and he sank back into his chair as she worked him like the pro that she was. “Love watching you, sweetheart.”

Nesta could take most of him, but what she couldn’t reach with her mouth and throat, she was more than happy to make up for with her hands. She wrapped one around the base of her cock and timed her strokes to the bob of her head, and it didn’t take long before Cassian was practically putty in her hands.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” Cassian panted, tightening his grip on Nesta’s hair. “So beautiful with my cock in your mouth.”

Nesta couldn’t speak, but that didn’t stop her from showing her approval. She moaned around his cock and the vibration made him buck into her mouth.

“Yeah? You like hearing how good you look sucking my cock?” he said, groaning when she whined as best she could with most of her mouth full. “Course you do. Pretty thing like you needs her mouth stuffed, doesn’t she?”

“Mhmm,” she moaned. Her eyes flicked up to meet his as she reached up to fondle his balls with her free hand, and the simmering heat in his gut went supernova.

Cassian abandoned any semblance of control as he widened his stance and started fucking into her mouth. Her eyes went a little wide and started watering, but she didn’t dare look away from him. If anything, she gave him the green light when he felt her other hand creep down to join the one already playing with his balls.

“God, Nesta, don’t stop,” Cassian grunted, a little crazed with the way his cock looked going in and out of her mouth. “Fuck, that’s a good girl, gonna fill up that perfect little throat—”

Cassian held Nesta’s head in place as he came down her throat, thrusting into her mouth with a few short, jerky pumps of his hips as pleasure rocked through him. He didn’t let up until she smacked his thigh three times in a row, their signal for when she needed to breathe, and then she was pulling herself off his cock with a slightly dazed look on her face.

“Jesus, that was hot,” Cassian said once he could think straight again. He released his tight grip on Nesta’s hair and gently ran his hands through it, trying to sort out some of the tangles he’d caused without hurting her. “You’re an A+ student in my book, sweetheart. Was that okay for you?”

Nesta nuzzled her cheek into his thigh and looked up at him with a sweet smile. She was floating a little bit, and it made him melt that she trusted him enough to let go like this. “Mhmm. Better than okay.”

“Okay,” he replied with a smile of his own. He reached down and hauled her into his lap, ignoring the way his cock twitched at having her so close. “Come on. Let’s get you all cleaned up.”

#acotar #acosf #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar kinktober #kinktober #nessian prompts #anon asks #moodymelanistwrites

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blackbat05 · 1 year

Text

Know you better

Adam Warlock x Reader

Plot: It’s moving day and you meet a handsome stranger due to unexpected circumstances. Shenanigans occur that ultimately get the two of you closer.

Genre: PG-13 (Neighbor, Modern Day AU)

A/N: I did not write this till 2am😂 Might as well capitalize on these influx of ideas while I can right? I intended for this to be a meet cute kind of thing, so hopefully it looks that way to you readers?😅 Reblogs and feedback always appreciated!💜

Shamelessly tagging my partner in crime for Adam🤡: @tom-whore-dleston

Finally.

You had your very own living space. Amidst skyrocketing rentals and weird landlords, you managed to get a decent space beside the train station. That will earn you a few minutes of extra sleep in your battle of commuting to work. You set the last of your box in the room.

Making sure that everything was accounted for, you went back down to settle the bill with the moving company.

Heading back up, you see a shadow at the entrance of your door. You shouldn’t have cursed your luck. You spot the communal potted plant beside the lift and decide that would have to settle as your weapon of choice.

As you control your breathing, you take tiny steps forward, hoping to get a glimpse of which idiot was dumb enough to commit a house burglary at two in the afternoon. The shadow starts to move and you prepare for the worst…

“Excuse me?” Someone pipes up from behind, nearly sending you into cardiac arrest. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” You turn around to see a male with curly brown hair, listening to a cassette tape. “I was wondering if you saw a friend of mine? He’s about 6’3, golden hair and eyes if you stare hard enough.” The male chuckles at his own description.

“Quill?” The supposed burglar steps out of your house, looking at the two of you in confusion.

“Adam, what the hell? You can’t just enter a stranger’s house?” The male frowns, rushing to pull his friend out of your residence. “I’m so sorry, I think he must have gotten the numbers mixed up. We’re having a party today for one of our friends.” He extends a hand. “The name’s Peter Quill.”

You can’t help but to feel relieved, any easy smile etched on your face. “Thank goodness. For a minute there I thought I would have to call the cops. It’s nice to see you neighbor.” You move towards the other man, extending your hand for a shake. “Sorry for wanting to throw a plant on you.” You apologized sheepishly. “Nice to meet you, Adam..?”

“Adam. Adam Warlock.”

***

Six months later,

Each day was the same, familiar routine. Work, home or the resident gym that you probably frequented the most out of all the residents. Except for Peter who would occasionally engage with you in small talk. Then one day, you stopped seeing Peter.

You don’t blame the guy. Gym routines are notoriously hard to keep up with while trying to survive in this bustling city. It was a Friday evening and you were glad to be able to leave the office on time. Walking to the gym, you see that the lights are on. Curious, you push the doors open to see who else has decided to work out a sweat along with you.

You see a familiar muscular back lifting weights at the corner, oblivious to your entrance. He breathes out once more, earning a well deserved water break.

“Adam?”

The man turns around, initially alarmed but happy when he finds out who it is.

“Evening. Working out?” He sets the weights neatly back to their original position. Grabbing his bottle, Adam walks over to you, taking big gulps. You find yourself looking at how his sleeveless shirt had accentuated his arms. Focus. You harshly reprimanded yourself.

“Yeah. Was cramped up in office all day. Thought it’ll be good to sweat it out.” Your tone was a little higher than usual. “Hey, do you where Peter is? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He’s moved out. Found a place nearer to his grandfather. Peter didn’t want to sell this place to just anyone and I needed a place.” Adam tells you. You couldn’t deny but a part of you was delighted at the news.

“So… we’re neighbors now?”

“Neighbors.” He confirms with a boyish smile. “Oh, if you don’t mind, I think I should return back to my weights. Shouldn’t rest for too long.”

“Of course. I should get going too.” You make your way to the treadmill, not before giving one last quick glance at his shaped rear as he started to perform a series of squats.

***

“That hot guy you tried to take out with a plant?” Your best friend and colleague in crime squeals. “Girl, you have to tell me more!”

You sighed. “I wish I could Liz, but I barely see him except when he’s in the gym! Not that I’m complaining though, you should see him at pull ups.” Your brain goes into overdrive, thinking about last Friday’s gym session.

As usual, it was only the two of you. It was kind of an unspoken agreement, going around quietly to get the endorphins going. Instead of the boring treadmill, you opted for the dynamic rower machine, having a first hand view of Adam’s behind in full glory. It certainly did not help that the gym was surrounded by mirrors, giving you a sneak preview of his toned stomach.

“I need the photos.” Your friend insists. “All this talk and I would think you’re talking about a Greek god!”

You open your mouth only to close it shut. She did have a point. If you knew better, Adam was probably sculpted in the museum before being gifted to mankind. Room suddenly feeling much warmer, you decide to move out to the small balcony, still holding up the phone in front of you.

“He is! Too bad I can’t say anything else but ‘hi’ and ‘bye’ because I almost took him out with a plant! I know he thinks I must be crazy.” You groaned. “I guess I can still continue to dream about my unattainable, utterly sexy, Greek god right?”

You notice that Liz has went silent on the other end, eyes widened. You whip around to find that Adam was also at his balcony, reading a novel that was now abandoned at the side as he stares at you curiously.

Oh. My. God.

Your new and very hot neighbor had just overheard your entire conversation with Liz. About him.

Kill me now. Your brain freezes and time has paused. Instead of walking back like a dignified woman your mother always trained you to be, you scramble back in, knocking over your plastic yellow IKEA stool in the process.

Locking the sliding door, you draw the curtains before landing flat on the sofa, shocked into silence. Liz breaks the silence first, as she burst out into raucous laughter.

“Girl! You did not just did what I think you did!” She’s out of breath and you can almost see the tears threatening to spill from the corner of her eyes.

“Is there anyway to be wiped from Earth? At least until he forgets.” You whined, resulting in a cackle from your friend. How wonderful. Within a span of six months, you’ve managed to colossally embarrass yourself twice.

“It ain’t too bad.” You frown at Liz’s attempt to be serious. “Personally, I would be flattered. Maybe a little creeped out but flattered nonetheless.” She gives a mischievous grin. “Especially when you tried to bonk him with a pot on your first meeting.”

“Liz! Not helping!”

***

Thankfully, the next couple of days weren’t as bad as you expected. You didn’t run into Adam in the hallway or the lift while going to work, and you found yourself staying in the office to complete last minute tasks.

Friday came around and you took longer than usual to change into your gym gear. As much as you prayed for Adam to magically not be there, you were sure that a guy like Adam would not skip his regime unless he had a very good reason. Rounding the corner, you see the lights on, confirming his presence.

Here goes nothing.

The gush of cool air greets you as the door opens and you thank your lucky stars. Adam is on the treadmill this time, and with wired headphones plugged into an iPod. You were remotely amazed that people still had such an old device. Then again, you weren’t too surprised seeing that Peter had a cassette on your first meeting.

You decide that trying to avoid him wasn’t going to help you. Instead, you chose to play it cool. Catching his sight from the reflection, you give a small wave that he returned, indicating that you were going to start your workout.

Pressing the play button on your phone, you started your own routine, pushing out the thoughts of your embarrassing encounters with Adam to get the most out of your exercise.

The continuous feminist anthems that you prepared for times like these worked its magic, as you were engrossed in completing your abdominal exercises on the reclining bench. Finishing your final set, you slowly lie back down, hoping to catch your breath before taking a quick break.

You certainly did not expect yourself to be upside down, facing Adam’s crotch in close proximity. Giving a loud gasp, you fall on to the mat, landing ungracefully.

Why did the universe conspire against you? You see Adam’s mouth moving, a concerned look on his face and you realized you’re still wearing your headphones . “Hi!” You squeak, once you removed them.

“That’s fine. Are you alright?” Adam asks. “Sorry I scared you. That was a pretty hard fall there.”

“Yes, I’m fine! Do you want to use this? I’m sorry I took so long.” You rattled off, not giving him a chance to speak. You stumble from standing up a little too quickly. Adam rushes forward to help you but you reassure him while dusting yourself off. You don’t need another accident today.

“Go ahead! It’s all yours.” You bend down and fumbled for your things, deciding that maybe you had enough exercise for today and that it was time to retreat when Adam holds you by the wrist, hesitant to start. “Have I offended you in anyway?”

You blink at the sudden question. “No. Of course not.”

“Then why do I feel like you’re avoiding me?”

You wince at the sharp question, hearing your heart crack a little at the sight of Adam looking like a puppy who had just been disciplined. That’s the thing, he didn’t do anything wrong.

How do you tell him without revealing your growing crush on him and not look any more weirder than you made yourself out to be?

“Well…” You start, suddenly finding your trainers to be very interesting. “I thought you would have been freaked out by what I said the other time.” Adam cocks his head slightly in confusion and you mentally kick yourself. “You know, about how you look like a Greek god.” You mumble the last couple of words.

“I’m sorry?”

Was that deliberate? You could feel your face turning redder than they already were from your workout. You gathered your courage to stare at him straight in the eye, desperately trying to ignore the faint freckles across his cheeks.

“I said, you would have been weirded out by your neighbor lusting over you because of your stupid good looks!” You raised your voice, not realizing the damage you just caused yourself until the words had spilled out of your mouth.

It was Adam’s turn to digest what you had just said. That did not stop him from breaking out into a dopey grin that only caused your heart to beat faster.

“Thank god for that. I was starting to think otherwise.”

What did he mean by that?

Adam appears to have read your mind and chuckles, the deep vibration creating butterflies in your stomach. He scratches the back of his head and if you weren’t mistaken, he was… nervous?

“I was hoping I could get to know you better, outside of this gym that is. You see, I couldn’t forget about you since our first meeting.” He laughs sheepishly at the thought of almost being charged for breaking and entering. “I never seen someone look absolutely threatening yet adorable while holding a plant as a weapon.”

You can’t tell if he’s being serious but you let him continue. “I wanted to talk to you, but I figured after that first meeting it probably wasn’t wise to suddenly appear at your doorstep without any reason. So when Peter was going to move out, I jumped at the opportunity.”

At Adam’s revelation, you can’t help but to smile. He takes this as a sign of encouragement and goes on. “I was waiting for the right time to ask you out and I must admit, I had cold feet on certain days. So when I heard that conversation with your friend, I was… glad.”

If Liz saw you now, she would have been gleaming with pride at her accurate assessment of Adam’s reaction to your feelings towards him.

“Maybe, we both got on the wrong foot. A shaky start. How about we try again? My name’s Adam.” He offers a hand and you giggle at the familiar scene. You extend yours to meet his. “My name’s Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you.”

You can’t believe how fast the night changes, how lucky you got with the move six months ago. You swore that he held onto your hand for a few more seconds before letting go. Adam grins.

“It’s nice to meet you too. Would you like to join me for dinner tonight? Say, to get to know each other better.”

“I would love that.”

#adam warlock #adam warlock x reader #gotg vol 3 #guardians of the galaxy #neighbor au #modern au

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bbyquokka · 2 years

Note

Hiii 💞 hope you're having a good day/night/evening

Just wanted to say that I stumbled upon your fics and I loved them sm I finished reading them all 😭 I'm obsessed, I specially love the way you write about Jisung I think he's so close to how I always imagine him 🥺 so I was wondering if you could write something about him, where he and reader are a new couple and he's spending the night at her place for the first time and he's all cute and nervous 💖 thank you sm 💖

hiii! i hope you're having a good day/night/evening also! thank you for reading my fics! dont be afraid to give me feedback on them! thank you for also requesting and i hope this is what you expected. lemme know your thoughts and opinions – i welcome all feedback!

⌢ : ⤹ 💤 sleepover

→ PAIRING: Han Jisung x gn!reader

→ GENRE: fluff | suggestive.

→ SYNOPSIS: you and Jisung have a sleepover

→ WARNINGS: pet name (baby) | established relationship | some suggestive themes, nothing too extreme though

→ WORDS: 1.2k

→ have a request? send it to me here. read my rules to learn about my guidelines before submitting requests!

Feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

→ m.list — → ao3

"So, you're staying over at y/n's tonight? Minho asks your current boyfriend, Jisung, who is packing an overnight bag.

"Yeah, I am."

"First time?" Jisung nods slowly, packing some clean underwear and clothing before zipping up his bag. Minho disappears for a second before reappearing, slipping something in Jisung's pocket.

Jisung frowns, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the item Minho slipped in. He sighs softly and rolls his eyes as Minho belly chuckles, clearly amused by his little ‘gift’

“Seriously, lino?” Jisung sighs, hand outstretched as a condom is lay flat on the palm of his hand.

“Hey! You never know. Better to be safe than sorry.” Minho shrugs, speaking in a sing-song tone of voice.

“You’re a menace.” Jisung mutters before putting the condom back in his pocket. He doesn't have any plans on doing anything tonight with you, but as Minho said; better to be safe than sorry.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A soft knock on your door brings you out of your train of thoughts. You've been worried, anxious but also excited about Jisung sleeping over for the first time. You're a fresh couple so you’re still learning about each other. You both agreed to take things slow, deciding it was best for the relationship; neither of you wanted to rush things.

You open the door, smiling lovingly at Jisung. Dressed in standard jeans and t-shirt with a beanie on his head. His overnight bag over his shoulder.

"Sungie!" You grin. Jisung blushes at the nickname, looking at his feet in a shy manner.

"Hi baby." You grin, excitement and nerves bubbling in your stomach. You step to the side to allow him in, closing the door behind you. He takes his shoes and coat off, placing them to the side neatly before taking off his beanie. He ruffles his hair, trying to fix the static state his beanie hat has caused before giving up.

You take his hand gently in yours, your action catching Jisung off guard. You giggle at his flustered state, his nerves getting the better of him.

"My hand is sweaty!" He mumbles, trying to escape your grip.

"I don't mind. Plus, mine is too, so–" You shrug, grinning. Jisung softly chuckles, bringing your hand to his lips and kissing it gently.

"Have I ever told you how beautiful you look?" You flush pink, butterflies exploding in your stomach and filling up every cell in your body.

"All the time, Sungie."

"Mhm. Then, I shall keep doing so." You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your heart doing tiny skips.

"Let me show you to my room." You whisper before dragging Jisung through your apartment. Jisung looks around, taking in every small detail of your apartment. From the house plants to the picture frames hanging on the walls; he makes a mental note at how the decoration is so you.

You open the door to your bedroom. You spent that extra hour to make sure your bedroom is clean as a whistle. Fresh sheets on the bed, your plushies neatly situated in their place. Fairy lights on the wall to give it that cosy vibe. The smell of flowers from your perfume you put on earlier is still hanging in the air around you both.

Jisung hums, looking around. It's cute and simple. It's you and that's what he loves about it.

"You can place your bag down on the bed if you want." Jisung snaps out off his thoughts, nodding before placing his bag down. He looks around again, noticing there isn't a spare mattress for him.

"Sorry to ask but, where will I be sleeping?" You flush a deep shade of red, your palms getting sweaty as you chew your bottom lip.

"Uhm. I thought– I thought we could sleep together." You paused, before your eyes widen, noticing how that sounded, "Not in that way! I mean, we could if you wanted to but, i mean like – We sleep! In the same bed!"

Your arms flay around as you stumble over your words, desperate to not make it sound sexual or that you're implying anything. Jisung laughs, cupping your cheeks in his hands gently.

"Hey, I understand." You breathe a sigh of relief, Jisung's lips pressing gently against yours.

"Sorry." You mumble against his lips.

"Don't be. You're cute." You hum, pulling away slowly.

"I'll go make some food or something."

"Sure! I'll unpack then."

After Jisung unpacked his bag, he made his way to the kitchen. You're humming a soft tune, cutting up some veggies. Jisung wraps his arms around you gently, kissing your shoulder blade.

"Can I help?" He asks, stroking your sides gently. You hum, handing him a knife and a cutting board. He takes it off you before getting to work.

Making some delicious food and eating it caused you both to become tired all of a sudden. You both agree on getting ready for the night, deciding on settling in bed with a classic movie; Howl's Moving Castle.

Jisung is in the bedroom, stripping himself of his clothing whilst you finish the last of your skincare routine. You walk out off the bathroom, making your way inside your bedroom as Jisung strips himself from his t-shirt and jeans.

You swallow, stopping in your tracks as your half naked boyfriend is standing in your bedroom. Jisung looks at you flustered, trying his best to cover himself up with his hands, feeling semi-naked.

The tips of his ears red, your gaze taking in every detail of his skin. You take in his body proportions. His broad shoulders, his tiny waist and toned skin. He works out occasionally but he takes care of his body by eating and drinking healthily and it shows.

"You're so–" You breathe out, unable to tear your eyes away from him. A sense of shyness explodes in Jisung's stomach, washing over him in waves. You pull his arms away from his body, taking in every detail of his firm chest and abs.

"Perfect." You finish your sentence off, causing Jisung to blush a deep red.

"Thank you." He whispers. You stroke his rosy red cheeks, giggling softly. You strip yourself of your clothing, changing into your nightwear as Jisung does the same.

He picks up his jeans to fold them and puts them to the side neatly, the condom that Minho gave him falling out of his pocket. Jisungs eyes widen as you pick it up, looking at him with a raised brow.

"I– It's not what you think!"

"No?" You question, slowly walking to him. He gulps.

"No! Minho, my roommate, gave it to me! I didn't plan anything, especially when it's our first night together! I'm not like that, please don't think I am."

You laugh at his flustered state, his words spewing out of his mouth at lightning speed. You wrap one arm around his neck pressing your body flush against his. You look at the condom that's held between your fingers before looking at Jisung in a suggestive manner.

"I mean, we could."

Jisung holds your waist gently, biting his bottom lip gently. He swallows, feeling heat rush down south at your implication.

"We could..?" He carefully questions. You hum, nodding.

"We could and I think, we should."

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queenofbaws · 4 months

Note

Heyyyy Queenie! I hope you're having a lovely weekend 💕 You *know* I can't resist the chance to ask for some LauraMax writing from you, so here I am 😁 (If you're in the mood, may I request some 50s-style LauraMax? I might be working on a piece in that vein, so that'd be extra appreciated - but I'm happy with anything you choose to bless us with :)

catch me catching up on some prompts! ;)c (...and check out the BEAUTIFUL art this fill was inspired by!!!!!! 😍)

"Betcha...betcha I can make five."

The water was cool against her toes as she dangled her legs off the edge of the pier, her eyes following the line Max drew with his finger. "Five, you say?" Laura teased, dousing her tone with good-natured doubt. "That's a pretty handsome guess, there..."

"I'm telling you, I can do it." As if reassuring himself, Max leaned over, picking a rock out from the pile they'd gone through such pains to collect earlier. He gave it a light toss, hefting its weight in his palm...then shook his head and started digging through the pile anew, making Laura laugh. "Uh huh, get those chuckles out now, cuz I'm telling you, with the right stone? I can get five skips. Five skips, easy. I'm so sure, I'll bet you for it."

"Ooh, well that sweetens the pot now, doesn't it?" Watching him pick through the pile of smooth, flat stones, Laura couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "What'll you bet me, then?"

"I...oh, good question. I think we already went and spent what little pocket change we had at lunch...so...what about a kiss?"

Her smile broadened, the afternoon sun no longer the only thing warming her cheeks. "A kiss it is!" she agreed, sticking her hand out to shake.

Max took it, grinning himself, and then fixed his eyes on the horizon. He tested the weight of his new skipping stone, turning it gently in his fingers as he wound his arm back, and Laura watched him, intently, listening to the gentle lapping of the pond's water against the dock.

Without warning, he let it fly. The two of them watched, captivated, as the rock's broad side hit the water and skipped once...twice...

And promptly sank.

"Nuts," she heard him mutter under his breath, his posture slouching with disappointment. "I was so sure I had that in the bag!"

"Well," Laura interrupted, never one to throw in the towel when a kiss was on the line, "seems to me, a bet usually goes both ways." She didn't bother testing the stone she picked from the pile, instead focusing on how she held her hand, how she flicked her wrist as she shot out across the water.

It didn't just skip - it bounced! One, two, three, four, five, six...and then it was gone, not sinking to the mossy bottom but simply flying towards the horizon, its tiny little splashes marking its path.

"I believe I'm owed," she said haughtily, turning towards him with a coy, self-assured smile. "And I'll warn you now, I intend to collect my prize."

#theartofdreaming1 #six sentence weekend #the quarry #lauramax #queenie writes supermassive #vickyyyyyyy!!! im sorry that this took me so long to get to that you've already finished your piece!!!! sldkjflskdjf hehehe #idk how 50s style this is exactly but your BEAUTIFUL art put this idea in my head so i hope it's close enough ^_^ <333

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icecreambeach · 1 year

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Moto. Moto all I wish for is that you would write a Bobadinnec fic in which Fennec makes fun of Boba for mooning over Din and battlefield marrying him, as if Fennec didn’t take one look at him and think “hmmm I think I’d like the shiny model too.”

Hfjskfjd I, too, wish I would write a Bobadinnec fic! Here's a slice anyway.

Fennec Shand hasn’t observed greater krayt dragons enough to know about their mating habits, but watching Boba Fett now, she can’t imagine it’s much different.

Apex predators courting other apex predators need to be careful. Boba’s demeanor with Din Djarin is polite, bordering on tentative. But there’s an underlying urge that penetrates the polite veneer in ways only she would notice. Boba reveals his hunger in the way he fluctuates between taking up as much space as possible and donating some; if he were a loth-wolf, he'd be circling. The way he cradles his blaster but occasionally tilts his helmet or spaulders towards Djarin like reaching hands. The way he can’t seem to take anything other than a wide stance, like he’s showing off the goods.

He and Djarin have been talking for over ten minutes. Fennec can’t lip read through the helmets, but she can read Boba—she’s been reading Boba ever since he grew his first chin hair—and the Mandalorian isn’t half as mysterious as he believes.

It’s cute. It doesn’t look like either of them are fully aware of what’s happening. Or if they are, they’re both hiding it out of a hunter’s common sense; unwise to make assumptions in unfamiliar territory. They may wear similar armor but the men underneath are different breeds. Djarin is from a world out of time, and Boba’s uniqueness is a point he’s constantly making.

She hopes they’re not totally clueless, because Boba especially could use the… comfort, she supposes? Djarin would offer more than mere distraction. Especially after he rallied so valiantly for their cause—for Boba specifically. She knows the boss appreciates it as deeply as he appreciates her and everyone else who showed up to fight the Pykes. After the kind of reputation Boba earned, to try to accumulate allies and build an organization now, in Jabba’s old territory no less—it was never going to be less than impossible. Din has no idea just how much of a knight in shining armor he really is.

And Boba has to appreciate the whole “good dad” thing. She knows all about Jango Fett. He sounds like a prick, but Boba talks about him like he personally carved out the galaxy. Djarin, as far as Fennec can tell, is as good a father as they come. He and the kid make quite the picture: tiny claws wrapped around one gloved finger, Djarin’s thumb occasionally stroking the kid’s hand. She can see those big ears swivel between Boba and Din as if he, too, has noticed what’s going on between them. And he’s getting antsy, wiggling in Din’s arm.

It’s the perfect excuse for Boba to, yep—there he goes, stepping into Djarin’s space to press a finger into the kid’s reach, letting him take his glove and babble excitedly. Djarin shifts his weight from one hip to the other, looking from Boba to Grogu to Boba and back. Boba’s attention is all on Grogu and the affection seems mutual; he’s good with kids. Or at least he likes them a lot more than Fennec does. He’s already practically adopted the Mods.

Now the kid is laughing and Djarin’s helmet is tilting and, yeah—he’s utterly endeared. The Fett charisma is taking effect. Djarin’s even shifting again, like he wants to get closer. Those hips sure are expressive. Maybe they’re just extra-showy because they’re offset by those wide, wide shoulders.

Fennec tilts her head. Huh.

Regardless—Djarin may be a tall drink of spotchka, but he’s responsive to Boba’s presence. Bending like a thirsty plant. She can sympathize; Boba’s power spans far beyond his physical form. He’s been like that even before he packed on the muscle. She wasn’t into his posturing coldness back when they were both running bounties. Now he’s—

Now Boba has taken his hand back but hasn’t moved away. She’s never seen Djarin allow someone to stand so close to him. Usually the man’s personal bubble is like a second set of beskar. But he seems so relaxed and—

She widens her eyes. He’s laughing.

It’s short but unmistakable. The shaking chest, the sway of his helmet—an almost bashful chuckle. Suddenly it’s ten years ago and Fennec is watching Boba work his charm on several working girls at once in the smoky tunnels of the palace.

If she were betting, she’d put money on Boba going for the flirtatious touch next. Something simple for Djarin: a shoulder clasp, or a pat on his arm that lingers too long. She doesn’t know much about the Mandalorian’s religious beliefs, but she’d wager that if Boba did something like take the chin of that gleaming helmet, Djarin would have a meltdown. Maybe drop the kid.

She watches.

Any second now.

Suddenly, Boba looks her way.

She doesn’t move. She’d only been glancing sidelong at them, and is wearing her own helmet besides. No way Boba can tell where her eyes are pointed.

He turns back to Djarin. She smiles.

Then frowns—Boba is walking away.

She almost throws up her hands. Boba is coming towards her and Djarin is focused on the kid, who’s cooing animatedly at him, no doubt proclaiming the same thing that’s running through Fennec’s head now: just what in the hell was that?

Boba’s face is as unreadable as ever when he takes off his helmet. “The Mandalorian is going to see the medic droid.”

Fennec falls in beside him, removing her own helmet. She says nothing.

“He took some bad hits.”

Nothing.

“Might be able to convince him to rest at the palace for a night. He’s stubborn.”

Still nothing.

Without looking at her, Boba sighs and narrows his eyes. “What.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

He sounds tired beyond his years. “When you don’t say anything, it usually means you have something to say.”

Fennec inwardly balks—since when has Boba started knowing her? “I have no comment regarding Din Djarin’s health and wellbeing.”

“Hmph.”

They walk in silence for at least five seconds. She prides herself on her timing.

“But if you want him to stay—”

“There it is,” Boba mutters to himself.

“—Then you’d have more luck asking for his help."

He looks at her. “Again? He’s already done enough. And he’s injured.”

Fennec shrugs, casting her gaze like she has any reason to scan the wreckage so attentively. “Just an idea, boss.”

Silence again.

She almost feels pity for Boba when he sighs again. “Why should I ask his help?”

“If you try to convince him he needs help, he’ll just take offense. Better to ask him to assist with something. Stars know there’s plenty to do, and not all of it strenuous. There are things he could do while he’s sporting some bacta patches. And it’d get him to stick around long enough for the prospect of staying the night to sound more practical.”

Fennec looks at Boba expecting to see exasperated suspicion, but instead she gets the tooka who caught the keedee.

Now it’s her turn to narrow her eyes. “What.”

“You’ve thought about this.”

“Yeah, just now. You’re not the only one who can think before he speaks.”

“No, you’ve thought about it. You’ve strategized.”

“It comes naturally to some of us.”

“You were watching us, weren’t you?”

Fennec gives Boba a look that’s meant to be a warning, but Boba is fearless. And wily—it’s one of the reasons she likes him so much. He only grins at her, and lets his eyes run down her body before cooly turning back to the horizon. She’d be lying if she said it had no effect. They’ve spent enough nights together for her to admit: Boba’s found his way under her skin.

“I don’t know why you’re smiling,” she says, “You put on a terrible performance.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you weren’t trying to work him like a Cloud City stripper?”

“One time—”

“That I witnessed. Come on, Boba. You played with his kid. From you, that’s practically a marriage proposal.”

This time, Boba's silence is loud.

Fennec looks at him. “What’s that face for?”

Boba turns even further away from her, brows raising at the sky.

“What did you do?"

“Nothing,” he mutters. Then, remembering he’s the daimyo of Mos Espa and not a fourteen-year-old boy, he lowers his chin and clears his throat. “Mandalorians are fond of vows. Especially when there’s a battle involved. He… it probably meant nothing.”

“What meant nothing?”

“We thought we were cornered. He said…” Boba scoffs. “It’s his creed. He said, ‘I’m with you until we both fall.’”

“Boba.”

“He said, ‘we’ll both die in the name of honor.’”

“Boba.”

Boba lets out a sigh like a discontented gundark. “It’s just his creed.”

Fennec shakes her head. If they weren’t in public, she might be laughing. “You’re so fucked.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Boba. Let’s say he didn’t just pledge to you his eternal loyalty—which, he did. You love that honor bantha shit. I’m surprised I didn’t hear your heart beating all the way in Mos Eisley.”

Still no response.

“And the way he is, you probably had him swooning all the way back on Tython. No wonder he said it was on the house.”

Boba suddenly looks at her. “He turned down the money?”

Fennec snickers, unable to help herself. “You’re so fucked.”

Boba turns away and growls.

Fennec lets him boil for a moment. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle it.”

“Handle what?”

“If we leave it up to you, he’ll be back on that ship before sunsdown and you’ll never see him again.”

“I don’t need your help, Shand,” Boba mutters warningly.

“'We.' You think you can keep that shiny stack of muscle all to yourself?” Fennec smirks at him. “I thought you agreed to cut me in on all the profits.”

Boba glares. “After all that, you—”

“At least I have dignity.”

“Spying from the shadows is dignified, is it?”

She ignores him. “I think you’ll find my methods effective. You’re just not used to hunting big game.”

“Am I not? He’s a man, not a krayt dragon.”

“Like there’s a difference.”

Boba sighs for the eightieth time that day and, as they get closer to the speeders, puts his helmet back on. His vocoder rasps, “Just go easy on him, Shand.”

“Don’t worry, boss.” Fennec puts her own helmet on, grinning. “You’re both in good hands.”

#asks #my fanfic #bobadinnec #boba fett #din djarin #fennec shand #the book of boba fett #star wars

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