#i write these boys as kiss monsters huh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aluciahaz · 7 months

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God. First off, I adore your writing so much!! Can never get enough tbh.

Secondly, Adam with a mommy kink?? And he doesn't even tell you until he accidentally lets it slip outside of the bedroom during a normal conversation. At first, he tries to deny it or cover it up by saying he totally said a different word, but after a bit of prodding he's putty in your hands and now you most certainly have an issue to deal with later today. Poor baby can berely even focus on his daily tasks with how embarrassed and eager he is.

And don't even get me started on when you actually get him in bed. He's such a brat, but his hard on immediately gives him away. Whisper a few sweet words in his ear, and suddenly, he's mommy's good little boy.

ah TYSM for the compliment!! i try my best🙏 and you're SO REAL abt adam😭

this is a bit ooc and yes i skimmed over his daily tasks because i couldn’t think of anything sorry 😭😭 hope you enjoy though!

what a mess

—adam x gn!reader

—includes : mommy kink, sub!adam, dom!reader, crying

“adam, for fuck’s sake just be normal for once and put your dishes in the sink—“

“c’mon, babes! there’s a lot!”

“there’s only four! god, you were doing so good the past week too! even rinsing your plates! what happened—?”

“mommy plea—,”

“…”

“say that again?”

“i said—uh, i said MONSTER. cause you’re a heartless fuckin’ monster making me put all these plates away in the sink—”

a start to a new revelation bloomed right in front of you, just like adam’s increasing blush. you laugh in glee, this news bringing so many questions to your mind.

“don’t be coy. c’mon, baby boy. what did you really call me?”

“wh—cough—HUH?” his startled face said it all as he looked at you, dumbfounded. sure, you’ve called him a few names before, but they were more on the line of ‘idiot’ and ‘dumbass’ rather than something endearing like ‘baby boy.’

and he liked it.

it was clear he did. from the way he gulped nervously, to how his eyes dilated like a cat’s, you knew.

you cackle at his dramatic reaction before opening your mouth, about to brush over the topic for your lover’s sanity before something truly miraculous happened.

“…mommy.”

his eyes divert to the floor, clearly nervous about your reaction. he wasn't one to share his more vulnerable side. it took months alone to have him admit that he even had flaws for goodness sake, but this was a big step for him. an act of trust.

and you sure as hell weren’t going to reject it.

“good boy,” you coo, lifting his head up with your hand, a gentle smile on your face. you feel him hesitantly rub his cheek into you palm, looking up at you with a dazed expression of shock. it was evident he didn't expect you to react this way.

when you plant a kiss on his lips, he’s practically melting into your touch. usually, he’d try to dominate every action, fighting for control to support his unhealthy ego, yet this time, he gave it all to you; a blessing.

he moans into your mouth weakly as you push him back into the kitchen counter, making him lean his back over it as you deepen the kiss. you can feel his breath quicken, the increasing warmth from his cheeks, and his desperate hands clawing at your waist.

all signs for you to keep going. an invitation to ravage him and leave him breathless.

but you pull back.

he whines in annoyance, grabbing your shoulder in order to make you come back, but you click your tongue, flicking his hand off you.

“you still have to go shopping, baby. later, i’ll deal with you, alright?”

he groans in frustration, glaring straight at you. but, you stay firm in your decision. he needs to be responsible. knowing that you won’t budge, he sighs, grumbling as he leaves to do his monotonous work.

“so good for me!”

that makes him leave real quick, hurriedly slamming the door behind him. goodness, he was so easy to fluster.

finally, the day passes, and he’s back home, clearly still embarrassed yet excited for what would come next. not to mention, impatient.

“shit, babes! you have no idea how fuckin’ hard it was to shop with you on my mind! couldn’t even focus on my goddamn lunch—mmpfh!”

but you can’t blame him. you are too.

he’s quickly shut up with your lips and pushed down to the bed with a firm hand as you climb on top of him. you remove his clothes hastily, not caring where it lands as you practically manhandle him.

“turn around for me, baby,” you huff out, the both of you gasping for air from your rushed kiss.

he frowns, glaring at you with defiance.

“why the hell would i do that? i wanna see your face when i fuck you,” adam smirks, running his hands up your sides. the fool.

you roll your eyes, raising an eyebrow at him.

“who said you would be the one fucking me?”

his expression was almost comical. his eyes blew up, and his mouth dropped in astonishment at your forwardness. but, with you over his body, pressed flushed against every inch of skin, you could feel he was into it. really into it, in fact.

you chuckle at his reaction before flipping his body around, a surprised grunt leaving his lips before you kiss his nape, trailing your tongue across it.

the shiver up his spine was delightful, and you feel him relax under your body as you continued pressing kisses down his spine like you were following a path. although it was quite a sweet action, it was obvious that adam wasn’t one to wait for the main course.

“c’mon, babes! the fuck is the hold-up?” he gripes, turning his face to the side to scowl at you.

“is that any way to talk to me? i thought you wanted to be good,” you move up until your lips are right beside his ear, your hands slipping underneath his chest, inching higher and higher.

“you were so polite this morning, and so adorable too with your blush covering your face, your eyes unable to meet mine,” your tone is hushed as you speak, and for once, adam is quiet, only focused on listening to you.

with a grin, you feel the buds on his chest as you roam your hands under his torso, and you can’t help but pinch them ever so slightly, eliciting a gasp from the gruff man below you.

“i know you can be good for me, pretty boy,” you kiss the corner of his jawline as you keep teasing his chest, making him shudder and moan from your fingers.

“so why don’t you try again and ask nicely this time, alright?” you say, nipping his ear ever so slightly.

his breath is shaky, and although known to be the most egotistical angel in heaven, his pride crumbles underneath your sweet words, melting his brain like chocolate over a warm fireplace.

“please—please, touch me more,” he manages to say, stumbling over his words as he surrenders himself to you.

“please, who?”

“please… m-mommy—AH! ha—,” he keens as you twist your fingers, making him jolt in both pleasure and pain, digging his face into the pillow.

“good boy!”

the whine that leaves his throat is full of joy, pleased at your praise.

and you never let it up as the night goes on.

“taking me so well, baby boy,” you say, thrusting into him slowly as you let him get used to it. it was the first time he’s done this, yet it was like he’s done it for years considering how his back arches in a crescent-like shape as he pleads for more, his hands and knees staying somewhat strong as he keeps himself up.

“f-fuck, ngh! how are you so—good at th-THIS!” he cries out, gasping like forgot how to breathe as a particularly deep thrust hits that foreign spot inside him, making his knees buckle in response.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you tease, holding him by the hips as you pick him up from his faltering position.

your pace starts to pick up, and he seems to absolutely love it, his eyes closing in bliss as he moans wantonly. how has he not done this sooner? this felt fucking amazing!

so amazing in fact, he didn’t notice how he kept babbling on how it was—

“so good! y-yes, ugh, FUCK! yeah—mommy, keep—going, m-mommy!”

shortly, his head hits the pillow as his arms give up, a loud wail escaping as you keep driving into him, making him feel like his whole world was flipping upside down. his voice was breaking, and the rasp rolling off his tongue was starting to sound a bit painful.

but it was absolutely delightful to see him fall into pieces like this. to deteriorate into a whining, begging mess for you. for him to run his voice dry just to have you to touch him.

“m-mommy! ah! gonna cum, oh fuck—! don’t stop!”he shouts, his glossy eyes opening slowly as he turns his head to the side, panting as he looks up at you.

a mess, really. he was a beautiful, desperate, mess of an angel. so lovely, he was. the thin layer of sweat reflecting the lamp in the room made him truly look heavenly, and the tears that had started to run down his cheeks seemed to make him even more divine.

the state of him was perfect, and you can’t help but take a mental picture of him in your head for later before fucking him relentlessly, your hand making its way to his cock slowly.

“wouldn’t dream of it.”

and only with a few touches, he seems to unravel instantly, a broken scream filling the room as he finishes, his fingers gripping the sheets like his life depends on it.

you let go of his hips, letting him collapse onto the bed as he shudders in brief aftershocks, panting heavily with his hair splayed wildly on the pillows.

you wrap your arms around him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he keeps whimpering for your love, your care. he’s just his needy self now, his persona gone, leaving only his affection-craving, tender self in your hands.

“thank…thank you, mommy.”

adam has always been a messy man. and although it was usually quite irritating, you don’t mind cleaning up after him this time…

he still has to do the dishes tomorrow though.

tags : @luciferspetduck @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @drlucichen @mvskedxrtist

how the fuck do i forget to add tags to every post

#hazbin hotel #dom reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel dom reader #sub hazbin hotel #adam x reader #bottom adam #sub adam #hazbin hotel adam

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sweet-honey-tears · 2 years

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↠ Their Hair ↞

Plot: What happens when you touch their hair? How do they react?

Characters: Kirishima, Denki, Bakugou, Mina, Shinso, Todoroki X GENDER NEUTRAL READER

Setting: Pretty much final year of UA.

Thank you all so much for your support. I don’t think y’all understand how much your comments or hashtags make my day. Not joking when I say they give me motivation- I hope you like this!🤍 Also this is my first time writing for Mina, so I hope you like it! 🤍🌸

🪨 Kirishima 🪨

Kirishima never really let anyone touch his hair. He’s the one who spikes it or puts a bandana in it- which in itself doesn’t allow people to touch it. It’s not like he’s protective of his hair, it was just how it happened. Kirishima was also responsible for dying his hair. He figured it would just be cheaper and easier than going to a salon. A train ticket, payment, and tip were a bit too pricey. Plus it was a time-consuming process already and leaving campus to go to a salon would only add to this. Time was precious when training to be a hero, and Kiri couldn’t seem to fit it into his day. And regrettably, it’s what led him to his current situation, his black roots now almost an inch and a half grown.

“Hey Kiri, you okay? Ya, look a bit distracted.” Your chipper voice brought him out of his thoughts. He was scrolling through his phone looking at different hair dye brands. The last one dried out his hair and quickly faded.

“Huh, oh yeah, just looking at hair dye. Gotta re-do this soon.” He airily laughed. His hand rubbed the back of his head.

“Oh, I can help if you want.”

Kirishima never knew he had a sensitive skull till that day. But when you brushed your fingers through his wet hair, he got sparks going down his spine. He watched you calmly help wash out the remaining red, your finger brushing through the strands. He remembers watching a movie with Eri, where monsters felt a ZING when they found love. He’s pretty sure he just felt that.

“Almost done Kiri!”

“A-alright!”

Kirishimas just closes his eyes and relaxes against the tub at the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair carefully.

⚡Denki ⚡

Denki knew he didn’t have a sensitive skull. Bakugou likes to say it's a wonder Denki even has feelings in his head at all. But he does, and sometimes he wishes he didn’t. Like when Eri accidentally ripped a knot from his long hair while brushing it. But that doesn’t stop him from allowing people to play with it. Eri does his and Shinsos hair quite a bit, putting little cat clips in it while quietly talking about her day. All that said, Denki just likes the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, not even touching his skull - just hair. He’s found you mindlessly do it a lot when zoning out with him. So sometimes he'll sit between your legs on the ground. His back is against the couch you sit on and your legs are on either side of him. There are times there just wasn't enough sitting room in the common area. And as always, your fingers mindlessly comb through his golden hair. Brushing out any small knot there.

You look down at him at the feeling of his head shifting. His chin pointed up and his eyes looked into yours. You know that look, heaving a sigh

you lean down to kiss his forehead.

“Tch”

“Right back at you boom boom boy.”

💥 Bakugou 💥

Bakugou likes the feeling of your nails on the back of his neck. Moving through the short hair that’s there to the soft blonde spikes.

Only you get to touch his hair. No one else. Not one.

But when you koala hug him, he sees starts. You are sitting on his lap as he works on his homework. Your face is in the crook of his neck, your legs off his to the side and barely touching the floor due to how high the chair is. You have one arm around his torso and the other one over his shoulder.

“Kit, are you almost done?”

“Not yet, Teddy, I have one more problem.”

You grumble, the pads of your fingers going to his neck and rubbing the short hair there. Bakugou sighs, his body relaxing. He mindlessly brings his hand up to your back rubbing it up and down. He can feel your body relax, lightly sighing as your fingers pause. Bakugou continues rubbing your back, but after a minute of your stilled movement, he stops.

“Hm Bakugou-“ you grumble angrily.

“What?”

“You're so mean” you groan, your fingers starting again and ‘coincidentally’ his hand starts rubbing your back till you eventually doze off.

💤 Shinso 💤

Shinso had to cut his hair after it got stuck in his voice changer. His hair also constantly was getting knotted due to his capture weapon. The fabric kept rubbing against the base of his neck, causing knots and mess. How Azawia did it was beyond him. Long hair and a scarf? Annoying.

Shinso was nervous the day he cut it, somewhat worried about what you would say. But he also figured if this was the defining factor in your relationship, then it wasn't worth it. If his necessary haircut caused a ripple in your relationship, then it wasn't as strong as he thought. The thought shook him.

He kept the length and had the sides buzzed, giving him an undercut.

“Shin!” Your voice called, you were always so happy to see him.

“Hey there Kitten” he speaks lowly, opening his arms to welcome your smaller form. He smiles down at you as you look up at him, your arms wrapped around him. And then he watches it click.

“Holy shit.” You say almost airily. And all Shinso can think is ‘Oh fuck.’ “You look so fucking hot.”

Shinso’s cheeks heat up instantly, his ears tinting red as his mouth hangs open a bit at your reaction. Your hands snake up his neck, and he unconsciously shrinks down a bit. A pleasant sigh leaves his lips at the feeling of your fingers on his newly buzzed hair.

“Feel good Shin?” you coo in his ear, your hand sliding to his cheek and resting on his jawline. Your thumb lightly rubbed his cheek.

“You have no idea, Kitten.” He grumbles, leaning down to kiss you.

🌸 Mina 🌸

Mina generally just loves physical affection. Her form of affection is physical touch. Any form of touch, even if it’s just slightly grazing your fingertips. But it’s always more than that, Mina comes behind you and squeezes you. She jumps on your back someday. She’ll run up to you just for a hug. Grab your hand or arm and lead you anywhere. On calmer days though, she’ll lay in between your legs. Against you, chest to chest. She’ll press her face into your chest or under your chin, and rest her arms around your middle. Mina will put music on, having the both of you share an airpod. Even though you don’t need the AirPods, they make the moment more intimate. Like you’re in your own world.

Your hand rest on the back of Mina's neck. Careful to not tug one of her tight pink curls and cause it to frizz. You know better than to brush through her curly hair, and instead, settle on just smoothing your thumb over the small hair there. Mina just hums, happy at your consideration and for the quiet moment you two share.

🧊 Todoroki 🔥

Shoto has a bit longer hair in his final years of UA, starting to unintentionally grow it out. Another break away from his childhood. Shoto wasn't used to physical touch until he came to UA, so every little touch is more comfortable than anything. It’s a feeling of safety whenever you run your hands through its hair. Whenever you comb back the longer strands or move them from his eyes as the wind pushes them around. How your fingers delicately touch the strands to ensure you accidentally hit him.

He smiles so softly and will close his eyes as your finger brushes up his bangs, allowing you to kiss his forehead. You have to lower back down from your tippy toes to look back up at him.

“Tell her I say hi Sho.” You smile up at him, your hand in his as you squeeze them. Shoto was going with his siblings to visit his mother.

Shoto stares down at you like he’s holding the world. So much comfort and love packaged in you.

“I will baby” he sighs, his smile still on his lips. Your hands go up to cup his face, your thumbs rubbing his cheek.

“I love you.” you sigh, pulling him down to kiss him goodbye. Knowing today would be emotional for him, and his siblings as well.

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herefortheships · 6 days

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Why would you say people ship Beetlejuice and Lydia? I’ve been a fan for so long I’m just like “huh…why do we ship it?”

Suddenly remembered I hadn’t answered this, and since I can’t sleep right now I’ll answer it! I meant to earlier and forgot.

I personally ship it because I love the concept of monster x human relationships, and especially when one character (usually the male part of the ship when it’s m/f) in this case this character is Betelgeuse, is dark, powerful, often immortal and even terrifying, (in Betelgeuse’s case also unhinged and absolutely crazy lol), and definitely the least you would expect to EVER fall in love, and yet he does fall in love with this other character who happens to be human, mortal, often quiet and also unlikely to fall in love. These two are the least likely to fall for each other, but they do! Then he starts to show a softer, completely unexpectedly romantic side to him that is reserved only for this woman he loves and no one else. She is both his strength and his weakness all at the same time. He is willing to do everything and anything for her.

Often these two characters are complete opposites and at odds with each other (or even enemies!) and yet they find each other in the middle. There is something they find in the other which cannot be replaced or found in anyone else in the world, and as unexpected and unusual and crazy at it is, before they even know it, their connection is forged in a way where they cannot and will not ever belong or fit in with anyone else. They’ve become a part of each other, even when the odds were against them or might be against them forever because they are intrinsically worlds apart. But love just finds them, and they meet in the middle.

I also love this kind of couple a lot when one of the two realizes their connection before the other, like Beetlejuice just knowing Lydia is *the one*, even if he can’t explain to her how he knows or why. This same scenario happens with Spike in Buffy the Vampire Slayer. At some point he realized she was the one, and she just got under his skin and became an inseparable part of his being.

Although not always, I believe this type of couple also follows the female gaze, since the male character (as I mentioned above it’s often the male character) shows an interest in the emotions of the female part. This is true in Beetlebabes. He isn’t interested only in her body, but also in honoring her emotions and desires (like Betelgeuse honoring Lydia’s wishes to have a more private wedding and respecting her boundaries by not forcing her to kiss him or something like that, plus making an effort at being romantic by serenading her and giving her an absolutely romantic wedding with a magical dance in the air). These interactions that are more romantic than sexual speak to the female gaze.

I think also that Beetlejuice Beetlejuice had several “Universal fantasies” entwined in the Betelgeuse x Lydia relationship that are just irresistible for many romance lovers and when those are present, our minds just inevitably grab on to those fantasies and identity them whether we are aware of them or not. Our mind just goes yep this is a romance and oh boy what a romance this is and before you know it you are obsessed. If you haven’t read about Universal Fantasies in writing, these are basically just more specific tropes that really speak to audiences in a way that hooks them powerfully to a story, and more specifically to romantic stories. This concept is introduced by Theodora Taylor in her book 7 Figure Fiction (which I’m sure many writers know about since it’s pretty popular but I mention it just in case it’s new to someone reading this).

Another reason lots of people love this ship is just aesthetics as well which is also valid. For me this for sure became one of my top three Burton couples.

#Beetlebabes #Beetlejuice x Lydia #Betelgeuse x Lydia #Beetlejuice Beetlejuice #Beetlejuice

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eldritch-spouse · 5 months

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I want to know how many monsters spend their paychecks at Gallon's bar crying because they developed feelings for Santi 💀

" I just... He's so amazing man. I don't even know why I'm crying, I don't deserve him. "

The latest sad sap cries onto his precious counter. Gallon circumvents them to give Fasma a shot of plain whiskey.

" You really don't. " He mumbles.

" H- Huh? "

" Nothing. Say champ, why not have another night with the hunk if you like him so much? " The bartender tilts his head, trying to cheer up the loser, or get them off his metaphorical nuts.

The monster sniffles, looking into the distance, where none other than the incubus is seen on his knees, hands on his thighs and tongue out as he apparently waits for a woman to squirt in his mouth while her hammered friends cheer her on. Gallon follows their gaze. Yeah, seems like a standard night for the resident manwhore.

" Just look at him, so radiant, so perfect. I don't want sex, dude- I want to love him! "

Fasma grimaces, definitely not because of the alcohol. He's seen Santi effortlessly do some of the dirtiest shit he could ever imagine, the thought of kissing those lips could send the old geezer into an early grave.

Gallon continues to work. " Oh boy. " He hopes this one makes a scene. It's a bit fun when they break down and throw a tantrum because the incubus won't give them the light of day unless they're putting out.

The depressed sod sniffles. " Do you think I have a chance? I... I have his phone number. "

Everyone and their mother has Santi's phone number. Maybe their father too.

Gallon grins creepily wide. " Suuure buddy, give it an honest shot. The worst he can say is no, right? " Fasma wordlessly shakes his head in disapproval of the slime's cruelty.

His client starts clumsily tip-tapping at their phone, likely typing something extensive and heartfelt, and now Gallon has to admit he's invested. If only because he knows how it'll end, and he likes to see the light fade from a hopeless romantic's eyes.

A phone eventually pings on the opposite corner of the counter, Santi's. It prompts the incubus to come over, still sucking the cuntjuice out of his fingers, some coating his chin. He doesn't bother to look around as he unlocks his device and squints at the notification. Gallon, Fasma and the client are eerily silent while he opens the text.

The incubus reads about the first three lines, frowns, then looks up. " Gallon, are you busy? "

" Uhh... Not any more than usual, why? "

The phone is slid his way. " Write me a rejection message here, please. I don't want this one coming back. "

And just like that, he turns back around, likely to see if any of the other girls can play with him too.

Gallon has to contain a maddening bark of laughter that is slowly turning him orange. He didn't even recognize the mess of a monster looking so hopefully at him from just across the counter. Oh that has got to sting!

He absolutely loses his cool and has to muffle his cackling when the monster in question wails brokenly and buries their head in their arms, sobbing like a dejected baby.

Fasma pats their back twice. They need that whiskey more than him.

#Gallon oc #Santi oc #Fasma oc #tce rp ask #pov: Santi rejects you

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rainylana · 1 year

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favorite little boy<3

@vol2eddie

“You know he’s very poetic.” You smiled widely, stirring the spoon in your coffee.

“He used to write it, actually.” Wayne stifled a yawn. “Well, not…poetry, I guess, but words and things. Boys always had a knack for it. Got that creative gene from his momma.”

You were an early bed, so you got up extra early to make breakfast for Wayne before he went to work. It was you and Eddie’s summer break so you stayed the night there several nights. The both of you had empty plates in front of you, yellow yoke from eggs and a few pieces of crust from toast. It wasn’t even light out yet, just a small orange glow from the oven light across the room.

“He doesn’t like to talk about her much.” You cradled your coffee cup, still clad in your cookie monster pjs and Eddie’s Van Halen shirt. “I wish he would.”

“She’s a sore subject.” The old man nodded. “You’ve got to let him bring it up, otherwise he won’t talk.”

You stared off at the floor, thinking of the woman you were never able to meet. “Is he like her?”

Wayne’s smile lit up the room. “In more ways than one.”

You smiled back, taking a sip of coffee. “I’m crazy in love with your nephew, you know? You gonna let me marry him one day?”

Wayne chuckled, sinking back into his sit at the kitchen top. “Hmm, if I get breakfast like this everyday then sure.”

You stood, grabbing the empty plates and putting them in the sink. “You know, Eddie only turned out so good because of you. That’s what parents do. He’s a lot like you, also. You should give yourself some credit.”

Wayne’s face turned a warm shade. “Thanks, kid. Glad I could do good by em’.”

“Guess I’m just everybody’s favorite little boy then, huh?” Eddie made his grand entrance, bare chested in his blue checkered boxers, hair wild and eyes red from sleep. He held his arms up like he was walking into his kingdom.

“And cocky.” You smirked with a raised brow.

“Up a little early aren’t ya’ son?” Wayne adjusted his hat, sitting up straight.

Eddie ignored his uncle, pulling your arms to him so he could messily kiss your lips, your giggles making him smile. He hummed like a tiger against your mouth.

“Children.” Wayne warned. “Save it for the bedroom, please.”

#lana’s shit post #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

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It's Okay To Be Scared [EoH]

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader feat. Teddy Dixon

Summary: A 'slumber party' ends in a distaster for you and your son. Can Daryl save you two?

Warnings: usual twd stuff, walkers, weapons, angst, panic? fluff! Daryl being an amazing dad, age gap

Set in Season 4!

Word Count: 2,5k

a/n: Here we go! 😄 This just randomly popped up in my head, when I watched this scene (I think you'll know which scene I mean.). I had to write it, hehe. ��️ Also, Teddy's the cutest. I love him. 😍

Divider by my lovely friend @fictive-sl0th <3

Tagging: @km-ffluv @stitchintimefan @sweetpeapod @loz-3 @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @bookofsecretjourneys @azanoni @fuseburner @hotgirlsshareaccounts @in-this-minute

Masterlist

"Mommy?" You turned your head at the sound of your five-year-old son's quiet, hesitant voice urging to your ears. "Hey, bud, what's up?" You smiled at the young boy, squatting down to be on an eye-level with him. The bright sun of Georgia shone through the barred windows of the C-Block, dipping the grey hallway in a soft yellow light. The sunrays got caught in the little boy's brown curls, causing them to shimmer. He may have inherited Daryl's hair colour, but not his actual hair. The kid definitely had your soft curls. Your eyes scanned your son's face and body. From his blue-grey eyes, which resembled his father's, over his little snub nose and rosy cheeks, all the way down his slightly too big clothes. His black t-shirt fitted him perfectly, but the jeans vest was definitely too big, just like his tattered and ripped jeans. You had to smile. He looked so much like his dad. Speaking of... "Where did you leave your daddy, huh? I thought you wanted to help him outside, checking the fences?" You wouldn't have let him join his dad, if you weren't aware that the boy was in the safest hands possible. He nodded, but looked at you with a sad and angsty expression. "Y-Yes, but... There were so many m-monsters, I-I got scared." Your expression softened, before you pulled the boy into a hug, "Oh baby..." and kissed his head.

It hadn't been easy for Teddy to understand, that the world was suddenly different now. Dangerous. Scary. He had been still a toddler when the world went to shit, but that didn't make it easier to explain. Why there was so much blood and death. Why there were suddenly scary looking people, who wanted to literally eat him. You and Daryl had a hard time adjusting Teddy to all of this. He had already seen so much. Things a kid should never see, but you couldn't change it. It wasn't in your hands. You never wanted this life for him, but it was how it was now.

Teddy looked up to his dad, of course, saw how Daryl helped the group, got food on the table and so on. His dad was his hero, without a doubt - and he wanted to be just like him. Be just as brave and fearless. The problem? Teddy was, after all still a child - and got scared very easily. Something he inherited from you. You were just the same, especially as a child and quite often even today. Some might say Teddy was a bit all bark and no bite - what you thought was quite cute. It was okay for him to be a child. He had to grow up into a man soon enough...

"You know that it's okay to be scared, yes? Always remember that, because being scared helps us sometimes. It's important." Teddy cuddled closer against your chest, both little arms wrapped tightly around you. "I-I know, but daddy's never scared..." You backed up from the hug, shaking your head. "Oh he is, Teddy. He's very good at hiding it." You said, running your hand through his long hair. It reached almost his shoulders by now. You could've cut it, of course, but Teddy looked way too sweet with longer hair. The boy nodded, although visibly not entirely convinced by your words and shuffled his feet nervously. "What was it you wanted to ask me, sweetie?" You decided to change the topic, distracting your son's mind from the walkers. It seemed to do the trick. Teddy smiled softly. "Can I stay at Nick's cell tonight?" Nick - one of the Woodbury kids and now Teddy's best friend. "Of course, bud. Does Nick's mama know?" Again, the boy nodded. "Uh.Huh... Nick said he's goin' to tell her." "Perfect." You smiled at him and stood up again. "Now go out play, while the sun's still out. I saw Patrick and Carl playing soccer outside. Maybe you can join, huh?" Teddy nodded, but tugged nervously on the red bandana around his neck, which his daddy had gifted him. There was something else occupying his mind. You could tell. "Is there something else, sweetie?" Once more he nodded, blue-grey eyes meeting yours again. "Can you, uh, stay with me tonight, mommy?" "At Nick's?" "Uh.Huh..." You smiled softly, tucking a few wild curls behind his ear. "I thought you are such a big boy already?" "Y-Yes, but... Please mommy..." Teddy looked at you with big, pleading eyes - and suddenly, you had a guess. "Are you having nightmares again?" The little boy nodded, grimacing, in order to suppress his tears. He tried so hard to be strong. "Oh no, I'm so sorry. Come here, baby." You opened your arms for Teddy again. An offer he took gladly. You lifted him up in your arms, not caring that he got pretty heavy for you to lift meanwhile. A few silent tears wetted your t-shirt. Teddy was plagued by nightmares almost regularly. He always had a hard time sleeping peacefully, but since the death took over the world, it became even harder for him - which was understandably. And whenever he woke up at night, afraid and crying from another nightmare, the only way to help Teddy was his dad. When Daryl wasn't here, you tried to help your son as well, but nobody was as helpful as his daddy.

"I'm coming with you tonight, okay?" Another nod. Teddy wasn't a child of many words - just like another important man in your life was. His small tear-stained cheeks glistened in the sun, causing your heart to ache. You knew exactly what you had to do now. "C'mon." You adjusted him on your arms, before you left the C-Block and made your way through the corridors out on the yard, eyes searching for your husband. Luckily, you found him pretty quick. He was preparing for the run he was about to go on, with Sasha, Glenn, Tyreese, Bob, Zack and Michonne. Daryl saw you approaching him, of course and was immediately alerted, since you were carrying Teddy. He wiped his dirty hands on a rug, stood up and met you on your way. "Hey, babe." Daryl looked at you and his boy, concerned. "Wha' happened?" "Nightmares," you mouthed, which was enough information for Daryl. He didn't need to know more. He placed a hand on the boy's back. "Hey, buddy, c'mere." Teddy didn't let himself tell that twice, unlocked his arms from around your neck and wrapped them around his father's, clinging to him for dear life. You gave Daryl a sorrow look, causing him to lean over to you and place a quick kiss on your cheek, "I got it." before he turned around and walked away with Teddy in his arms. Guess the run had to wait...

"Alright, baby, I'm going now, okay?" Daryl nodded from where he laid in the bed of the cell your small family shared, hands crossed behind his head. "Ya really wanna leave me alone tonight?" He almost pouted, causing you to giggle softly. Teddy wasn't your only child sometimes. "You know that Teddy asked me to, but you can join if you want." He scoffed at your words. "Nah, wouldn't wanna interrupt your girl's night." You giggled again and stepped over to him, in order to kiss him. "Love you." "Love ya, too." "Sleep tight, see you tomorrow." Daryl nodded, pulling you in for another kiss. "See ya." You grabbed your things, blew him a kiss and left the cell, tiptoeing down the dark corridors to cell block D. Little did you know, that staying with Teddy that night in the D-block was going to end in a disaster. A deathly disaster.

That night, you slept way too tight, to hear the soft snarling and growling of the polite and kind young man Patrick had once been, nor the heavy, slurping footsteps which passed the empty cell you were sleeping in, right beside the cell Teddy was sleeping in with Nick and Anne - his mom. You were completely exposed to the threat, lurking in the shadows of the night - but you didn't know it. Nobody knew it.

Daryl had been up quite early that day, just like Rick and Carl. He had just slipped into his beige shirt with the torn off sleeves, as he heard a loud noise ringing through the corridors, causing everyone which was still asleep to wake up - without a doubt. He furrowed his brows. It sounded like a... gunshot! Without hesitation, the archer grabbed his crossbow and stormed out of the cell, just like several others. Carol for example. "What was that?!" "Sounded like a gunshot." "Where from?!" Just after the words had left Carol's mouth, another gunshot was echoing through the walls. The answer of Carol's question was quickly answered, causing the man's eyes to widen and heart to run a hundred miles per hour. The D-Block. It came, without a doubt from the D-Block. "It comes from the D-Block." Daryl breathed out, before he started to run like a mad man, straight towards the block; Carol following him.

The scene he walked into wasn't one he hadn't seen before and yet it scared the shit out of him, because he knew that his wife and son were somewhere in the middle of it... There was blood everywhere. Dead and bitten men and women laid on the floor. The still living people ran around in panic, trying to flee from the walkers, which were trying to get another bite out of the people. There were screams and cries everywhere. "Shit!" The archer cursed, his mind immediately wandering to you and Teddy. He desperately hoped that the both of you were alright. Without wasting another second, he threw himself into the fray, killing every walker on his way. "Teddy! Y/N!" He screamed out, eyes frantically scanning his surroundings. It wasn't easy to overlook this chaos. "Daryl!" He heard Rick shouting at him. "I got it!" Signalling him, that he had the door situation under control. Not that Daryl cared about this in that moment. All he cared about was you and his son. Nevertheless, he gave Rick a short, hasty nod, before he continued his search.

"Teddy! Y/N!" He screamed from the top of his lungs through the loud noise. "Daddy!" Daryl heard a child scream out - his child. He would recognise Teddy's voice everywhere. "Teddy!" He yelled again, looking around to find him and point out where the voice was coming from. To his sheer luck he found him - just in time. The boy sat on the ground, crouched into a corner, crying, with a walker stumbling straight into his direction. Daryl's eyes widened in shock, but nevertheless he reacted fast, ran over and rammed his knife in the back of the walker's head, carelessly throwing the dead body aside. "Teddy!" The archer fell to his knees in front of his son, pulling his small, trembling body immediately close to his. "Are you okay?!" Daryl's eyes scanned Teddy's body for any bites or injuries. The small boy nodded, yes, and clung to his father, still crying. Daryl held him close to his body with his free arm, standing up again. "Teddy, where's your momma?!" "I-I dunno." Cried Teddy. Once again, Daryl looked around frantically, still not able to find you - but he found Carol. "Carol!" His best friend turned to face him. "Can ya take Teddy somewhere safe? I-I gotta find Y/N!" Carol nodded, of course, took the boy immediately in her arms. "You go with aunt Carol, okay? I'll go, find momma." Teddy cried even more, but let himself got carried out of danger from Carol. It broke Daryl's heart to leave his son like that, but he had to find you. "Y/N!" He ran to check the cells, killing another walker on his way. Remembering, that Nick's and Anne's cell was on the second floor, he was quick to run up the stairs, checking the upper cells as well. "Y/N!" "Daryl?!" He heard your voice calling out immediately, causing relief to wash over him. You were alive. He found you locked up in a cell, with a dead walker to your feet and another one in front of the barred door, trying to get its filthy hands on you. Daryl was quick to get disposed of the walker and opening the cell door with shaky hands. "Daryl!" You cried out, running into his arms. You were utterly rattled, covered in blood. "You okay, sunshine?!" Daryl asked you, strong arms keeping you close to his body. "Y-Yes, b-but I lost Teddy. I-I don't know where he is!" You cried, sobbing into your husband's shirt. "W-What if he's dead! Oh g-gods!" You felt how your knees gave in, but Daryl caught you. He immediately shook his head, trying to comfort you. "Hey, hey, hey, Y/N, stay with me, 's alright. I found him. He's alright. He's with Carol." "O-Our baby's o-okay?" "Yes, sunshine. He's safe. Teddy's safe." "O-Oh thank g-god... I-I was so afraid of him, b-but I couldn't leave to search for him. T-This walker had me trapped a-and- oh gods..." "Shh, shhh, it's okay, 'm here." Daryl's calming voice urged to your ears, despite the loud noise. "We gotta get you outta here." He said, before hoisting you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style down the corridor, the stair and past Rick. "You got this?!" Rick nodded. Glenn had joined the chaos as well in the meantime. "We got it! Look after your family!" Daryl gave Rick a thankful nod, before he left the horrendous scene and took you back to the C-Block.

The archer laid you down on the bed in your shared cell, before he called out for his friend. "Carol?" No minute later, she approached with a still shaking Teddy in her arms. "Did you find her?" Daryl nodded, taking Teddy back in his arms. "Thank god. She alright?" "Yeah, jus' quite rattled." Carol nodded in understanding. "I'll go, take care of the other survivors." "Thanks." "No need to thank me," she said, giving Daryl a small smile, before she left.

"Daddy... Where's mommy?" His son asked, voice trembling. "She's here, buddy. She's okay. We are all okay, alright? Everything's goin' ta be fine." His words seemed to calm down the boy a bit, but not as much as being back in his mother's embrace. Daryl stayed with you and Teddy for a long while, even after the boy had passed out from all the exhaustion, sleeping tightly. Hopefully without having nightmares...

Now Daryl sat behind you on the bed, while you leaned against his chest, hands intertwined. "What happened?" The archer asked in a quiet voice, eyes trained on the sleeping Teddy. You shrugged your shoulders. "I don't know, honestly. I was sleeping and suddenly I heard those screams. I got up quickly, looked outside - and there were walkers everywhere. People we knew, suddenly turned. Then everything became chaotic. I tried to react and look for Teddy, but then there were those two walkers..." You said, shaking your head at the vivid memory. "Do you know what happened? What caused this? Did Rick say something?" "Not yet, but we're gonna find out."

#daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon oneshot #twd #twd fan fic #twd oneshot #twd fanfic

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chrisevansonly · 2 years

Text

Chris’s Little Family 🤍

pairing: chris evans x momma evans (little duck au)

summary: chris can’t help but take every little moment to admire his perfect little family

warnings: tooth rotting fluff

a/n: i know i’ve been slacking on little duck and writing, this is short and things are just really tough for me right now and i haven’t been in a writing mood :/

The sun was out in Boston, the air warm for the spring which meant you were already outside just after breakfast, Arlie adamant on riding her bike and jumping on the trampoline. She’d always loved the outdoors and being active, so after a laugh you followed her outside with Wesley strapped to your chest, he was fast asleep after nursing, so you expected a quiet few hours from him. You sat on the outdoor swing on the edge of your patio a soft knitted blanket across your lap, a perfect few of the small barn and pond further down the yard, arguably your favourite view to admire each day. Chris eventually came out after cleaning up after the waffle making that took place in the kitchen that same morning. Chris’s favourite view by far was the one he saw right now, his little girl giggling away as her blonde hair flew around as she jumped on the trampoline. Then his eyes moved to you, cuddled up with his boy, your eyes lighting up in excitement anytime Arlie said something to you, your hands rubbing Wes’s back to keep him sleeping. Of course, he loved the view his home provided, but his family was his favourite, and they were something special that he would always cherish and hold close to his heart

“Daddy see me jumping!!”

You turned to smile at Chris after Arlie yelled to him

“I see you princess, getting higher and higher every time!”

He chuckled making his way over to sit next to you, his heart warming as you lifted the blanket so he could get under it

“Thank you for cleaning up after breakfast my love”

His lips pressed a kiss to your cheek before letting you lean on his shoulder a content hum escaping your lips

“I should be thanking you for wrangling these two monsters every morning, they have the best mother in the world”

“Are you trying to make me cry Christopher?”

He laughed rubbing your arm gently

“No, no, I just want you to know how much I appreciate you, and this life we get to have together, our little family is-it just makes me so happy, and I know I say this to you a lot, but I couldn’t imagine experiencing this with anyone else”

Each time he expressed his feelings, even if he said it to you one hundred times, it was enough to get you teary eyed and emotional, so pressing your lips to his to convey just how much it meant to you, was all you could muster in this moment

“I love you, and I am just and thankful for our family-”

“Momma, Daddy!! Been callin’ you for ages!”

Chris was the first to laugh at his daughter’s sass, she definitely got all of that from you

“Oh you were huh?”

“Mhm.”

She stood in front of him, hands on her hips as if she was getting ready to scold him, you were trying hard not to smile at her antics, especially when she huffed dramatically and climbed up to sit with Chris, her head leaning on his chest

“What were you saying baby, I’m listening now”

“Was gonna ask for help with my bike, but I comfy now, don’t wanna move”

Chris tucked her under the blanket, letting out another quiet laugh as he held her to his chest

“Well, if you’re comfy then you stay right there duck, we can go bike later”

If Chris wasn’t listening closely enough, he would have missed the soft “thank you daddy” that fell from her lips. This was Chris’s favourite view in the whole world, he had his family all bundled under a blanket on the porch swing that already had many memories for you and Chris. He wouldn’t trade this in for anything in the world, he’d be crazy if he said he didn’t want maybe one more little one running around, but there was time for that, he was more than happy with his little family right now and so were you, that was all he could ever ask for.

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alexsoenomel · 2 years

Text

Amorevolous (Sam Winchester x Reader smut and fluff)

Request:

Sammy aftercare one shot? Like him and reader got really down and dirty but once the sex is over, he turns into soft boy, cuddling with reader, stroking her skin and bringing her back down from her high…?

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Warnings: sexy times nothing special and a little bit of a praising kink

Word count: 859

Note: I LOVED WRITING THIS! Like/ reblog or both if you like it :)

“Are you mine, (Y/N)?” Sam whispered in your ear while fucking you senseless.

You pull on his hair feeling every inch of him, not wanting him to stop. “Y-yes.” Was all that came from your mouth.

“I wanna hear you say it!” He ordered.

“I am yours Sam! Only...yours!” Your breathing became heavier and more erratic since he was only making things harder. His pace was getting faster, his trusts stronger and the only thing you couldn’t do was....cum. Not until he tells you to.

“Good girl.” He praised you knowing how much it turned you on.

He loved being in control, making you come undone and watching you not being able to stand up after. He was indeed a perfect pleasure dom. If you obeyed, you would get a reward and what you craved right now was a fucking orgasm.

“Sam! I wanna cum!” You whined not knowing how much you can last. “Please!”

“You really wanna cum, huh?” Sam smirked speeding up the pace a little bit.

“Yes, please!” You moaned. “Fuck!”

He was torturing you and you were a spoiled brat, desperately wanting to orgasm. You could feel your body curling up as the pleasure was building up with his every thrust. He was impossible.

“Please Sammy!”

“Only because you were so good! Cum!” He ordered. Fucking finally.

You could finally let go. Gripping his back on both sides, digging your nails into his flesh you could finally let go. Sam flinched for a second feeling the pressure but didn’t say anything. He wanted you to enjoy every second of your orgasm.

And you did. Arching your back as you screamed his name over and over again. His pace became slower until he finally stopped, kissed your lips and collapsed right next to you.

“But what about you?” You asked him panting, trying to catch your breath.

“Not about me today.” He said as he kissed your shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m.....shaking.” You laughed. “You really like to torture me Sammy.”

“Torturing you is for me, but everything else is for you. I get off on you in that state.” He explained. “Cheeky.”

Sam got off the bed and went to the bathroom. He came back few seconds later with a glass of water. “Here you go!”

“You read my mind. I’m parched.” You said and chugged every drop of water in a matter of seconds.

“I know.” He gave you a smile. “You always are afterwards.”

Sam was big on aftercare, from the very beginning. He would tease the shit out you, make you lose your damn mind BUT always take care of you after. He never did anything you didn’t like and always respected your boundaries. He would play within those boundaries but never cross them.

He laid next to you as you placed your head on his bare chest. You made sure you were both covered since it was pretty chilly in the bunker.

“Was it good?” He asked you as he was stroking your hair.

“Amazing.” You simply said. “It has been a while I really missed you.”

“I know.....4 long weeks.”

Life of a hunter is not easy. Sometimes you would have to split up since monsters never sleep. That’s exactly what happened. Dean went to Lincoln, Nebraska to locate and kill a nasty vampire who was targeting young girls and got himself in trouble. You and Sam figured something wasn’t right when he didn’t pick up his phone for 10 hours, so naturally he had to go to Nebraska and find him. You on the other hand had to find and kill a ghost who was killing people in Lebanon. 4 longest weeks of your life.....

“I love you Sammy.”

“I love you too.” He said and kissed your head. You moved right next to him as he moved on his side facing you before wrapping his hands around your waist and intertwining his legs with yours. He touched your nose with his, feeling like the luckiest guy in the world.

“I love when you do that.” You said and placed a kiss on the tip of his perfect nose.

“Do what?” He asked and kissed your nose returning the same innocent kiss to you.

“I love when you take care of me after sex. It makes me feel safe and loved.”

“I can make you lose your mind, call you my whore and not let you cum but once sex is over and you are satisfied you are my (Y/N) and my (Y/N) deserves love and cuddles.”

His words never seem to be just words. What he said was what he delivered. It made your heart skip a beat like you were a teenager again. “My (Y/N)” - made you blush instantly. Being his... every part of you was Sam’s, forever and always.

“I love being yours.”

“I’m yours too, you know?”

“I know.”

“Do you wanna take a shower and then sleep? It’s kinda late.”

You look at the clock...it was almost 3am.

“Shower together?” You asked giving him puppy dog eyes.

He just smiled and nodded.

“Perfect! I want to wash your hair.”

“It’s all yours (Y/N).”

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a-aexotic · 1 year

Note

🌙 RAFE AND GETAWAY CAR IS AN ABSOLUTELY NEEEEED (love ur writing btw 🫶🏼)

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader requested? yes no

warnings. angst, kinda toxic relationship, usage of coke (its obx, what do u except?)

summary. rafe was the sweetest to you but one day, he changes. you can't look at him the same.

taglist. tbd

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

part 2!!

Rafe had never been more drawn to a person than you. You were the only person to not see him as a narcissistic monster and he was high off of the feeling you gave him. People were convinced he was a monster - a sadist with no regard for people’s feelings or life.

But that wasn’t the least bit true. He might seem like a big scary man but he just a little boy who misses his old parents on the inside. You were the only person in the world who could see that. You could look him in the eyes and see the most wholesome person in the world and Rafe knew that.

At first, it was the best time of your lives. It was like the beginning of every horror movie; sunny days on the beach, drinks with his family every Sunday, perfect kisses and special gifts. It felt like a daydream, every day with Rafe felt the beginning of a perfect love story. The type of love that people sing and write about; hopelessly in love with one another that makes you feel like you couldn’t live with one another.

That all changed one night.

You’d never been scared of Rafe, not even in the slightest. You’ve always seen him through rose-colored lenses. Rafe was not the same person high, he always acted a little out of the ordinary when he was under the influence. He’d done so much stuff that night and you tried to stop him, but it did nothing but add fuel to the party.

Rafe was snorting his third line this night and you were beginning to worry. He was not acting the Rafe you knew since you were kids. You sat on the couch, watching Rafe laying his head back on the couch, the white powder evident under his nose.

"Hey, Rafe?"

He hummed in response, sniffing. His eyes were closed and you were pretty sure he was falling asleep. Before you could finish one of his friends sat on the couch, catching Rafe's attention. He turned to him.

"Okay, let's do one more line." He started taking out the white powder before you spoke up.

"Rafe, haven't you had enough?"

He finally looked back you, his eyes red from everything he was smoking. "I think one more line is good. Unless you wanna try it?"

You shook your head. You didn't wanna try coke with Rafe right now (or ever). You've seen what that white substance could do, especially to Rafe.

"Oh, the Kook princess too good for coke now, huh?" One of Rafe's friends has voiced whilst the others laughed. Rafe's eyes were planted on you, not relenting.

"Come on, Y/N. Just one line, you don't even have to finish it." Rafe put his hand on yours and you felt him shaking and his usually warm hands were cold as ice.

"No, Rafe, I'm good."

"Come on babe, just one line."

"No."

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your head and bringing it down to the table. You immediately pushed him away and your heart was racing. "What the fuck Rafe, I said no."

"Well I-"

You scoffed and got up from the table, walking away. "I'm going home. I'm tired of this shit." You mumbled. The entire table was quiet as Rafe ran after you, his head dizzy.

That was the first night you saw the Rafe Cameron that everyone else sees. He wasn't trying to be violent, you know that. You were still scared shitless, he was acting so reckless. He usually treated you with the utmost care, touching you light as a feather and treating you gently. You didn't know Rafe when he was under the influence, you only knew Rafe when he was sober.

The coke addiction only grew and your patience thinned. It was hard trying to have a conversation with drunk or high Rafe. You tried saving him, you really did. And you knew he loved you, he always showed you it. But you didn't know if you still loved him.

You love sober Rafe and you were starting to see less of him. He loved you wholeheartedly and you knew that, you do too. But nights like those only repeated, him becoming gradually more aggressive. You hated it because you knew that wasn't Rafe.

As soon as you opened the email from your college, you knew. It was time. You didn't want to leave Rafe but you had no choice now. It was either let him ruin both your lives or just his. You were never a selfish person but you had to do this. For yourself.

Maybe in another lifetime, Rafe and you could live happily ever after. But not this one, right?

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katnissmellarkkk · 1 year

Text

Hiiii! I wanted to write a little something simple for Everlark and decided to lowkey mix two requests! “A kiss on the chest” and “Katniss learning what they did to Peeta in MJ and kissing his scars”. It was supposed to be set Post-Mockingjay but I instead made it a sequel to my “Peeta wasn’t hijacked in MJ reunion oneshot AU”. If you haven’t read it, it’s fine, the title right there tells you everything necessary to know 😂.

I hope everyone who reads this likes it! I loved writing it and I would really appreciate anyone who enjoyed this to like/reblog! It makes me so so so happy 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹. Also thank you to all my constant encouragers, you guys make my day with all your sweetness 🥹🥹🥹🥹.

Summary : Katniss learns more about what they did to Peeta in the Capitol and sets out to try and make him better. [Non - Hijacked Peeta Mockingjay AU].

Burned. Check mark.

Whipped. Check mark.

Starved. Check mark.

Shocked. Check mark.

Tortured (with water and [redacted][redacted]). Check mark.

I toss the file back onto the table where it was left by Peeta’s doctors, unable to stare at it any longer. Unable to stomach reading every which way Peeta was harmed while held prisoner in the Capitol. Again. I’ve already read it upwards of ten times tonight.

It never gets easier. Reading the extensive list of his injuries, reading the details they managed to pry out of him, visualizing what horrible acts were done to to him, listening to his doctors confer among themselves in sympathy and disgust, they themselves deeply disturbed by what he experienced at the hand of the president himself.

“Sweetheart, would you make up your mind?” Haymitch snaps. He’s in the worst mood he’s been in a while.

“Huh?” I furrow my brow and glare up at him.

“Either read that thing or stop messing with it.” He indicates toward Peeta’s file. “I’ve sat here and watched you throw it down and pick it back up a dozen times already. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re pathetic, Haymitch,” I say back but there’s little bite in my tone. I’m too preoccupied with the image of Peeta trapped in a freezing cold cell, naked and bloody and alone and terrified, and it’s driving me absolutely insane. It’s suffocating me, from the inside out. It’s taking up all of the space in my head, leaving no room for even bickering with Haymitch.

And Haymitch knows it too.

Of course, he of all people should be able to read me. After all, the same stupid file — and his crippling remorse — is undoubtedly what’s put Haymitch in such an awful mood in the first place.

“Just go see him, Katniss,” he murmurs, giving me a pointed look. “Go. You’re of no use to him just sitting out here, reading about what’s already been done. Get up and go see him.”

He’s right and I know it. As much as I hate to admit it, I know Haymitch has me there.

But still, I stall. It’s not that I don’t want to see Peeta. The opposite, in fact. Since his rescue thirty-seven days ago — not that I’m counting exactly — I’ve spent copious amounts of time with him. I’ve spent every waking moment that I could in his presence and as many of my sleeping ones that I’m allowed.

The doctors aren’t really thrilled about our arrangement there. They want to keep watch on Peeta as he sleeps, to watch and study and take notes and examine him further, but evidently it’s rather hard to analyze his nightmares with me wrapped around his torso all night, like a protective pretzel.

It’s not that I don’t want to see Peeta right now. It’s the fact that I don’t think I can look him in the eye, after reading exactly what those monsters Snow hired did to him, and pretend it isn’t all my fault.

“I don’t think the doctors are done with him…” I mumble, avoiding Haymitch’s eyes now.

“Cut the crap, Sweetheart.”

“Go away, Haymitch.”

“Go see the boy or I’ll find a way for you to spend tomorrow filming a propo.”

I glare at him again. “Would you stop?”

“Coin is getting hungry for some new ones.”

“Okay, fine, you win!” I exclaim, springing up out of my chair. “Congratulations, Haymitch. You blackmailed me into going to see my own boyfriend. Happy?” I hiss, kicking him in the shin as I walk past his chair.

Not hard enough to hurt him apparently. Not even hard enough for him to care. Instead he picks apart my wording with a smirk. “Your boyfriend? How darn cute.”

“Shut up,” I call as I exit the room.

The last thing I hear is him making loud, obnoxious kissing sounds in my wake.

I slip past the doctors, both the head and the medical, and beyond the nurses and supply carts and trays of food, into the room where I’ve spent more hours in the last month than I can count on two hands.

“Hi,” Peeta whispers softly as I close the door behind me. He’s shirtless, in bed and seemingly half-asleep already, laying on his side beneath the sheets. Waiting for me.

He looks so much better than he did the night of his rescue. His bruises are healing nicely, he’s gaining weight and muscle back, his hair is clean and curly again — thanks to me and Thirteen’s strong, medicinal shampoo — and his skin is starting to lose that scary, pale, translucent look.

But he’s still so hurt. He’s still injured — internally far more than externally — and I swear, I can feel my heart swell up and break into pieces just looking at him too long.

“Hi, baby,” I murmur softly, crawling beneath the blankets and folding him into my arms. Even with all the weight lost, he’s much too large for me to hold completely, so I make due wrapping my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist and stroking the back of his head tenderly.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, burying his face where my neck and shoulder meet.

A wave of guilt ripples through me. “Sorry I took so long.”

But he shakes his head, still having no room for spite in his body. Even after everything he’s been through, he’s still so sweet. He’s still so warm and kind and generous.

Well, towards me at least. The same can’t be said for his behavior toward Haymitch, who he blames for leaving us both in the dark about the rebellion.

“You were worth the wait,” he whispers. “You’re worth every wait.”

I feel myself blush and cover it swiftly by kissing his cheek. “How was your tests today?” I ask, smoothing his hair back.

He shoots me a sardonic look now and I giggle like a little kid. Every day when his dry humor peaks through the darkness, I get filled with ridiculous, unparalleled — uncharacteristic — delight.

“Still tedious as ever?” I murmur, rubbing his shoulder with my pointer finger.

“Boring as ever,” he mumbles before closing his eyes again. He’s clearly exhausted from all the probing they did today. And I know I should sleep too.

I usually sleep whenever he sleeps, wake only when the doctors make me leave, spend as much time with him as I can before getting sent away. But tonight I just can’t. I can’t make my brain shut off, despite the fact that at least half the compound is in bed, the other not far behind.

And of course, even tired as he is, even with everything going on in his mind, he still notices my distress.

“What is it?” He whispers, not even opening his eyes.

“Hmm?” I feign oblivion.

“Katniss, I can see something’s wrong.” He opens his baby blues, peaking down at me through his long, tangled up lashes. He has the longest eyelashes I’ve ever seen on a boy.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I reassure him, kissing his upper arm because it’s the closest thing within my reach.

“You saw my file?” He’s fully awake and coherent now, his voice much stronger than before. His tone leaves no room for question, even if I could lie straight to his face.

“Yes,” I whisper, feeling suddenly nervous he’ll be angry. Maybe it was an invasion of privacy to read it, I don’t know. The doctors left it out, I just assumed it was okay. “Are you mad?”

“No.” He chuckles lightly before moving his hand down to my hip, tugging me closer if even possible. “No, I don’t care. Read it as much as you want.”

He really means it too. He really doesn’t care if I invade his privacy, dig into his business and overstep my bounds. I don’t know if I’d be so generous if the situation were reversed.

Then again, going by the things I just read, he’s already been tortured and humiliated beyond belief. I doubt he has any concern for privacy left.

“You can ask me anything, you know,” Peeta says after a minute and I cup his cheek in my hand, shaking my head instinctively. I can’t ask him to talk about what they did. That would be cruel.

Instead I lean up and kiss him on the mouth, slowly and softly. Conveying every feeling I have for him, conveying every ounce of affection and gratitude and longing pent up inside me.

“You don’t have to tell me anything, Peeta,” I whisper against his lips.

I feel his hand cradle the back of my head, massaging my scalp. “I don’t want to keep anything from you,” he finally says, resting his forehead against mine. “Not anything that you want to know.”

My eyes fall, breaking contact with his. I have questions, yes — understatement if I ever heard one — but I refuse to pry and I’m terrified to ask and I don’t even know where to begin after what I read.

But then something catches my attention. A thick, red, angry line, splayed right in the middle of Peeta’s chest. It stands out vividly against his pale skin and blonde chest hair and I can’t look away from it now.

“What’s this?” I murmur, running my finger lightly across the surface, clocking the way Peeta cringes a little at the contact. “Does that hurt?”

He looks at the wall behind my head for a long moment before nodding. “That’s from a whip.” He meets my gaze again before casting his eyes low. “I don’t remember what I did to earn it.”

“Nothing,” I immediately gasp, my head shaking and brows knitting together. The idea that Peeta earned anything that happened in that mansion blasphemous to my ears. “You did nothing, baby.”

“I know,” he agrees, pressing his lips to my forehead lightly. “I just can’t remember why they whipped me that day.”

That day. Because there’s so many days where he was whipped to choose from. Of course.

My eyes land on another mark, this one dark purple and almost circular, high up on his torso, almost on his shoulder. It’s not a bruise, although at first glance it could be mistaken for one. No, it’s definitely a scar. From what, I can’t tell.

I trace it with my thumb, rubbing it back and forth. It’s raised and rough to the touch, a little jagged even, like it never properly healed.

His hand comes up to touch my arm, almost out of reflex, halting my ministrations. “That’s from the early days,” he explains, with almost a touch of humor in his voice. “They were more creative then… and they had a lot of matches on hand.”

It takes me a beat to figure out what he means by matches. “Fire? Fire matches, Peeta?”

“Yeah.” He nods sheepishly. “Snow had a big supply evidently.”

“I will burn him alive,” I say through gritted teeth before I can think better of it.

“Calm down, firecracker,” Peeta laughs but I’m fuming. I’m fuming mad and ready to fight at a moments notice. I probably could even make a half-decent propo right now, the amount of venom coursing through my veins.

I encourage my own anger, feed it, in fact. Because I want to be angry. I want to feel this rage.

Because if I don’t, I’ll start crying. And that’ll only serve to make Peeta feel even worse. Which I can’t let happen.

I’ve already done that too many times.

I don’t tell him any of what I’m thinking. Nothing good could come from that. Instead I search for a way to mask my anger, protect him from seeing it.

I stretch up and press a kiss against the corner of Peeta’s mouth, traveling to his chin, down the side of his neck and over his collarbone.

He responds by letting out a deep sigh, clearly enjoying the attention.

I journey further down his body until my lips land on his chest, exactly where his scar is.

“What are you doing?” He asks breathlessly, peering down at me now. “You don’t have to-“

“Let me,” I whisper, tracing it again with my finger. He shudders a little at the contact. “Let me make it better.”

I hear him swallow hard. “Okay.” He nods a little, quietly inhaling and exhaling.

I lean in slowly and press my lips to the mark, the whip scar, soft and tender.

I can feel him relax beneath me, deflating almost. I don’t sense any sign of discomfort, so I take that as my cue to continue on, kissing the same spot again and again, moving up and down the length of his wound, creating a circuit and following it repeatedly, waiting until he tells me to stop.

“Katniss,” he murmurs, sounding almost pained, like my name hurts.

“Yeah?“

“Thank you.” His voice is almost inaudible, almost a praise or a plea. Tears leak out the corners of his tired eyes.

I have to fight to keep my lip from trembling, to stop myself from crying too. Instead I crawl up his body, keeping my legs wrapped around his waist and fold my arms loosely around his neck.

“Let me kiss them all,” I say into his skin. My mouth travels across the top of his shoulder, my eyes closed, moving by the touch of my lips alone, not stopping until I land on his burn.

I press kiss after kiss into the bumpy, rough scar, until I feel Peeta’s breathing even out against me. I feel his heart beating against me and his chest rise and fall with mine, and an ember of hope that my method may be working grows stronger.

“Roll over for me,” I urge, keeping my voice as gentle as my touch.

“You don’t have to do them all,” he says but I can tell he’s enjoying this immensely. I can tell this helping him more than any treatment the doctors have recommended.

“I want to, Peeta,” I insist, no question in my tone.

Slowly and lethargically, he complies, rolling over so his back is facing me. I keep my hold on him, both my arms and legs wrapped around him like a baby animal clings to their mother.

He has a plethora of scars and wounds on his back. More than I’ve been able to stomach yet. Not once since his rescue have I been able to truly face the sight before me now.

I begin at the top, resting the palms of my hands on his shoulder blades, pressing my mouth to the center of his spine, to the back of his neck, the back of his ribs, anywhere with a painful mark or dark bruise.

I keep going, never tiring, as if I can kiss him better. As if my kiss can take away everything that’s happened, everything that I unintentionally caused and everything I ache to go back and stop. I kiss him like I can make him whole again. Like I can heal his fractured heart.

Eventually he relaxes underneath me, his breathing evens out again and he goes slack.

Even then, I keep kissing him. Even in his sleep, I refuse to stop trying to heal his hurt.

“I love you, Peeta,” I whisper against his arm, knowing full well that he cannot hear me anymore. “I love you and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t save you from this. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

My lips are still on his back when the doctors order me out of the room.

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tiisshu · 2 months

Text

did i ever post this particular j/askier/g/eralt allergy thing on here? its over on my ao3 and i had to read it before i remembered writing it lol.

Of Course

"Geralt! There you are, old boy!". Chirped a vibrant and cheerful Jaskier. He had been traveling down along this road for the better part of the morning, it had started out as a dreary and damp spring but it had dawned bright and warm and Jaskier had began the trek to some of the smaller villages along the western realm of Velen. He couldn't really remember ever coming this way at this time of year before, usually choosing to stay in the larger cities where warm fires and crowds could chase away the gloom of mud and the smell of the decaying leaves along some of the less maintained roads. But here he was delighted to have happened upon the stopped Witcher near a stream refilling his water bags.

The answering groan made the edges of his smile widen, " Ah there he is, knew it was that overwhelming charm I missed. What you up to, huh? On your way to another Adventure? Monsters to kill?". Geralt recapped the final water bag and straightened, looking the bard over and trying to remember how many years had passed this time in blissful silence. He supposed there were worse times to have run into the chatty and opinionated Jaskier.

Still, he knew he'd regret it as he often did, Jaskier just... never seemed to assess the danger in a situation with any real skill and Geralt was left with far more objectives in a fight than necessary. He was hesitant to send the bard away though, something that had remained a touchy subject but mostly left unsaid since what had happened in the Mountains

. . . .

In truth, it really didn't take long. The regret that is. After a couple hours of travel and Jaskier's incessant ramblings of this banquet and that woman, and various other tedious things the pair fell into a sort of rhythm with Jaskier singing various lines to himself and making adjustments to a ballad he was composing and Geralt riding atop Roach at a pace that allowed the Witcher to go over some details in his mind on a contract he was hoping to pick up along the way. Each of them lost in their own task.

Huh.. ihh...

Geralt snapped out of his thoughts instantly, for a moment scanning the countryside- wondering what had broken his concentration when Jaskier suddenly twisted to the side and aimed a trio of sneezes at the ground.

Hih'Isssh! Issshuu! Huh' ih'Shiew! "ah, Bless me. Hitting the ol' dusty road a little too hard perhaps", He joked as he dug through his pockets in search of a handkerchief.

He always seemed to have one or two on him, though he'd start out the night without one. Odd little mementos of a love affair, he had once quipped after a party had gone particularly well and somehow he had arrived back at their inn with three tucked into his lute case. He supposed adding the tears in while he played "Her sweet kiss" had been a bit much, but he had been well rewarded for the efforts. Thrice.

Geralt hummed and tried to regain his momentum with planning when Jaskier slowed in pace and tilted his head back, lips parting slightly as he hitched, searching with half closed eyes to see if he could catch a sun ray to help it along.

"Huh... Hih' ... Ahhk'SSSHU! Eh'Hisshiew! 'Tsuu! Gods, s..s-still?", he turned away from the path and blew his nose, huffing indignantly when he found it did nothing to quell the itch deep in his sinuses and he could already feel his breath catching. Geralt sighed heavily and leaned forward slightly, swinging his leg over Roach as he dismounted. Jaskier cast him a fleeting look before he was burying his nose in the handkerchief again, his shoulders shaking with each hitch.

Hae'esshiew! Hishhah!.. Hngkxxt! "I.. Hih'.. I was kiddig about the dusty ro-ah- road", Jaskier tried to explain, realizing that this sudden sneezing really could only be explained by some sort of allergy. Fuck .

It didn't take a Witcher's senses to see just how miserable the bard was. The area around his nose and eyes was beginning to take on an irritated pink hue that stood out starkly against his natural complexion.

After each volley of sneezes Jaskier would cough dryly as he tried to catch his breath, a wheeze was beginning to be audible as he scraped in each breath before he was off again sneezing helplessly into his handkerchief.

Hng-xsst! 'tsuu Snf ...hih'Tshiew! Huh.. Heh.. F..fuck...

"Jaskier".

Huh' Ehg... W-wud? D'esshiew

The Witcher plucked one of the vibrant red blooms from one of the towering shrubs along the path and unceremoniously shoved it up under Jaskier's nose. The bard only managed to tilt his head quizzically and look up at him with those watery blue eyes before realization and the dawning need to sneeze hit him.

"Fuh..fuck Gera-ah-AhhShiew! Hae'eh hih?... Hih'Isshuu! Hngk'tsuu huh.. Ahh'Sssshhiew!

Despite the growing nagging feeling that he should be more sympathetic, Geralt had to roll his eyes, of course the Bard would be allergic to the hardiest and most abundant plant this side of Midscope.

"Honeysuckle", Geralt said then, answering the bard's cut off question. He tossed the picked flower and turned to gather Roach's reins to keep the horse from wandering off grazing.

Jaskier had distanced himself from the offending flower and was mopping futilely at his face as his body tried to rid itself of the invading threat, great allergic tears running down his cheeks and soaking into the collar of his doublet where an angry red rash could be seen cropping up along the jawline.

Heh.. Oh cuh-come on- uH'Hisshiew!

Jaskier at this point thought death might be preferable.

Leave it to him to cause such a scene so soon after convincing Geralt to allow him to accompany him, it had taken absolutely ages, but here he was being a mess in front of a Witcher.

That Witcher, in particular.

He'll tell me to leave again, he thought glumly, blowing his nose as thoroughly as he could now that the sneezing was dying down and being replaced by a dry itchy feeling beneath the surface of his face and a thick oppressive stuffiness that left him needing to breathe out of his mouth exclusively. Lovely.

The next thing he knew though he was being hoisted to his feet effortlessly by the larger man and hauled over to the horse. Geralt managed to extricate the soiled handkerchief from the bard and toss it into an unused saddlebag with a concerning wet squelch.

"Do you need an invitation?", Geralt growled when Jaskier stared at him uncomprehendingly. His watery gaze ping-ponging between the Witcher and Roach.

Geralt prickled with what he assumed was Jaskier just being a little shit and clarified, " Unless... you'd rather stay here", he gestured to further down the path where another Honeysuckle shrub grew.

The Witcher had planned their route down by Pyke Isle where he had heard talk of a few contracts, but as the season was just beginning it's shift towards warmer weather, they'd be better off heading north...

He narrowed his eyes at the bard and gestured toward Roach. Jaskier cleared his throat and seemed to remember himself and clamored to raise himself into the saddle. As if to remind him of what exactly had led to this sudden shift in plans Jaskier felt that demanding tickle buzz to life along the sensitive walls of his sinuses for one last comment and he raised an arm to bury his face in the crook of an elbow.

Hih' Ih... Snf Hih' Isshiew!

Geralt decided that was enough, he pulled a simple square of fabric out of one of the other saddlebags and handed it up to Jaskier before stepping back and tugging Roach's reins gently to begin the trek back to the crossroads so they could travel north.

"You owe me", Geralt said for good measure, couldn't have the bard thinkin' he had grown soft in his old age.

But Jaskier only sniffled and for once was silent.

#sneezeblr #snzfucker #sickfic #snzfic #allergic!J/askier #The W/itcher snzfics #reblog?

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pieroulette · 2 years

Text

MORE BLOOD

2023 | 13+ | 1.4k | COLLECTION OF SHORT STORIES × ENHYPEN

GENRE reverse harem, vampire! enha

WARNING nothing :3

AUTHOR'S NOTE I know I know don't come at me, it's just a short story to celebrate 600 followers! And partly bcs I'm dying to write one 😭😭 thank you sm for reading all my stories and all those kind words and encouragement it truly matters to me and that I truly appreciate it!! I suck at words LOL ok let's not say such self deprecating words but ily folks :3

"This way, miss." snapped out from your deep thoughts when the maid in their formal attire led you to the deep , dark hallways in which the dark red carpet stood out to you the most; it was red for sure, however as you observed the intricate patterns below your shoes—tiny spots of deeper shade of red splattered all across the long, long hall.

"U-uhm? Hey.." the maid had her head slightly tilted at you, "Where are we going?"

"To the masters." she replied in a serious death tone, a stark contrast to when she greeted you in front of the mansion's porch.

Eerie, you thought—however are you seriously having a second thought after signing up for the maid contract in a suspicious, isolated mansion of who the god knows who they belong to? Probably, an old man with an overstretched moustache with his old suit, or maybe an old maiden who prefers to stay isolated in the mansion given to her by her wealthy parents, or a dozen more reasons your wearied mind couldn't put themselves into.

A large main door spreads open before you and the luminous light peeking from the glass windows hits your line of sight, pulling your hands up to your eyes quickly. Rubbing your eyes, your sight were met with a few strangers—young men scattered all over the place

Something you particularly notice was the main desk with scattered papers on top of them, piles of books on the smooth floor, all round you stood a colossal collections of books—resembling a library however it was akin to being consumed by a man-eating monster.

"Young master, we brought your special dinner for today."

"I'm—huh?" Before you could say anything, the door slammed right to your face.

"Hm? Are you an A+?" A red haired young man suddenly were before your very eyes, you were dead sure he was standing a few metres away from you just now.

Your eyes widening frantically upon the strange question, his fanning breath over your face had goosebumps riled through your skin. "F-fuck what?"

Loosen ties hanging down to their white shirts underneath their black jackets, icy pale skin and intense gazes looming over you with orbs that screams those that belong to monsters.

"Tsk, manners, Sunoo!" Puppy-like eyes softening your heart yet the golden crimson orbs of his had your stomach churning. Collars pulled up, red tie and strings of bracelet round his wrists. He exudes downright cockiness and somewhat flirty as his tongue laps on his lower lip, eyes never faltering from you. He took your hands onto his lips, pressing a sweet kiss on it much to your dropping jaw. "Forgive us, young lady. My name's Jake, what's yours—"

"Fuck, we're no longer in the 18th century, goddamn Jake. Quit that act."

A long groan escapes from the blonde haired boy, or Jake as they call it. "And why should I listen to you? Last time I check, none of the maidens look at your way because of your cold ass demeanour."

"You say that again!"

"S-stop, why are you all so noisy." Sunoo whined as he sticks his fingers inside his ear.

A barrage of ruckus from the two man had you silently pulling the door behind you in hopes to escape yet it to your utter disappointment, a hand slams it back right to your eyes. You look up in fear for this young man with faint blonde highlights on his bangs looking down at you with downright contempt. Intimidating he was, it was as if he was eating you with his intense red orbs.

"Where do you think you're going, human?"

Gulping a huge saliva down your throat, "W-w-what are you gonna do, huh?! You think you're so brave for doing this, what—" you widened your trance as if you were a sumo, slamming your hand on the man before you. "K-kill me? Bitch? I'll haunt you if you kill me!—"

"Pffft! She's funny—" a light hearted laughter came out from the young man emitting princely like vibes from the window, you couldn't make out much from his face as the luminous sky behind him overshadowed his form. "I like her."

You couldn't move an inch as the man started to approached you—the beauty mark on his nose and his more defined fangs coming into view as he smirk down at you, "I didn't know our dinner got a feisty mouth. Tsk, I don't mind though. What if you stay here and be our little toy instead?"

"Toy?! Little t-toy?!" You let out a scoff of annoyance yet you know this is was only an attempt to stop yourself from shivering, "Hellooo?! if this is the place where I'm going to work then sorry, I don't have time for this bullshit—"

"Chill, everyone! At least we could give her a little dose of kindness before we sent her away, yeah? Won't hurt to show a bit of kindness, Ni-ki." says the red haired young man with foxy eyes and orbs resembling the shade of his hair, utterly gorgeous he was as he gave you a sugary smile. The sleeves of his coat were folded up revealing his arms wrapped in bandage. "What's your name, sweet one?"

"Huh? Treating a human with kindness? What's that even?" Ni-ki, the tall young man who stood behind your back spun you around, leaning closer as his harsh gaze filled with utter contempt, "You're not even close to our level, peasant."

Sunoo rolled his eyes to the back of his head, "There's no hope for you, Ni-ki."

Clenching your trembling fists as you let out a hiss of annoyance, you pushed him over making him stumble backwards and pushing the door opened, sprinting for your goddamn life.

You took one last look over your shoulder only to wholly regret it as their monstrous orbs stayed fixated on you, you knew they could easily get you then and there but you still tried taking all your might to get away from that devil's place, going as farther as you can in these never-ending hall. Taking endless turns when a large double doors appeared on the end, light peeking through the glasses giving you a hope for freedom.

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth as you pushed the door open but greeny bushes surrounding the area, a gazebo and a fountain a few metres away greets your sight. You realised you were at the garden of the mansion much to your downright disappointment.

Grey misty fog blots out the entire garden as you slowly bring yourself to the pathway trying to find for an exit. Yet, you felt like you were going into an endless loop of maze, your energy only depleting as you panted relentlessly. Beads of sweat trailing down your jaw from your forehead.

"Exit, exit.. where is it?!" You frantically roamed around the garden, as the thought of any chance of survival would vanish into air if they suddenly appear out of nowhere.

A harsh tug on your cardigan had you stumbled backwards on someone's chest, looking up only to dark red orbs resembling a cat; jet black mullet, black web chokers on his neck as red lips pulling up to reveal those fangs.

Your breathe were caught up in the back of your throat, his cold ice fingers caressing your face and tucking the strands of your hair in the back of your ear only accelerated your already rampant heart.

"You smell so good.." breathing in, feline eyes gleaming into something you couldn't fathom. Your heart dropping in immense fear as you immediately pushed him away from you. The warmth of his chest gone from your arms.

"C-creep! Stay away!" You shouted right at his face.

You spun around to the direction back to the mansion, however another one stood before you; grey lush hair, tall frame and dark blue tie hanging loose on his white shirt, his hands in his pockets.

"Who the fuck are you again?! S-stay away— or else!—"

"Hm, you look pretty." his golden crimson orbs a few inches away from you, as you were slammed right to his chest. "Would you let us keep you, little one?"

"Yoi, wouldn't that be too selfish of you, brother?" another arm sneaks into your waist, pulling your back to his warmth chest. His voice near your ears sending shivers down to your spine, "Right, kitten?"

"Let me go you bitch!—"

A soft blow to your face had you letting out a tiny yelp, "Sure, why not?"

Multiple hands suddenly snaps right before your eyes, harsh tug all over your arm pulling you different directions. Golden crimson and dark red orbs gleaming around you under this heavy misty fog, shutting your eyes tight with a series of harsh cries of pain escaping from your lips as you felt this burning sensation of something sharp sinking right to your neck, arm and shoulder.

"Your blood belongs to us."

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sin-cognito · 2 months

Text

Rarepair event prize: A deal is a deal, Sans/Reaper

NSFW

Wordcount: 4596

Sans' ribcage is so smooth. His sternum is softer than the finest of silks, and Reaper can't stop running his fingers across it. He makes sure to keep his touch feather-light. He doesn't want to wake Sans up.

Last prize for @catsitta the beloved! This was a struggle to write but BOY do I LOVE this rarepair!! All of Catsitta's ideas were gold and it was so hard to only pick 1!!

READ ON AO3

For the past thirty minutes, Reaper has been quietly enjoying the sight of his naked lover sprawled contentedly all over the bedsheets in the morning light. He wishes the moment would never end, but already he can predict the moment the ray of sunshine slowly creeping up Sans' face will reach his closed eyesockets and be too bright.

Without a sound, he sighs.

It's unfair how beautiful Sans is in this defenseless state. If Reaper had any remaining desire to finish the mission that first led him to meet Sans, the view of the bed and its sleeping occupant on this fine late spring morning would be enough to make him change his mind all over again.

It's been six months since he's decided not to carry out his mission to assassinate the Don, and not a day passes by that Reaper isn't glad he made that decision, no matter how insane. Putting his life at risk, deadly risk, is such a better choice than killing the one monster Reaper's SOUL is beating for.

Oh, dear skies, look at him. So mushy for a beautiful, perfect, snoring skeleton.

A gentle smile tugs at the corner of his teeth as he focuses back on Sans' sternum. The early morning light, hazy and slightly pink from the organza curtains, has switched place with his fingers and is caressing Sans' ribs, going through them methodically, one by one, as dawn turns into morning. Moving without a sound, like he's not there at all, Reaper bends down and hovers his teeth where sunlight meets bone in a ghost kiss. His magic uses the opportunity to remind him how much he craves Sans' body, and Reaper pulls back, shaking his skull at his own horniness.

Can't even enjoy a simple, quiet morning without getting all hot and bothered about Sans.

Only then does he register just how quiet the room has become. Sans' delicate snoring has softened back to gentle breathing and as Reaper lifts his skull up, he can see why. Two unfocused white eyelights, still hazy from sleep, are trained on him, lazily following his every move. Reaper smiles and Sans smiles back.

"Good morning," Reaper whispers as he lifts a hand to cup Sans' cheek.

"good morning," Sans' voice, still raw from last night, croaks out as his smile widens a little. He nuzzles Reaper's hand, and Reaper melts.

Now that Sans is awake, there's no need for Reaper to keep his touch light anymore, so he unceremoniously crawls over him and slots his face into the crook of Sans' neck. He hums as Sans lifts his skull up further, giving his lover easier access to those wonderful vertebrae. A sigh or two leave Sans as Reaper licks the bone but he wants more, so he dips his tongue between the grooves to reach the more sensitive cartilage.

"last night wasn't enough, huh?" Sans' laughter is breathy and hoarse as he wraps his arms around Reaper's shoulders in an unmistakable invitation for more.

Reaper can't bring himself to admit to Sans that it just does it for him when he sees Sans so openly defensless in his presence. It's the (former?) hitman in Reaper, he can't help it. Trust is something he can't afford in his field of work, and having such a powerful Don -if not because of technical abilities (though Sans can be a rough opponent in a fight when he feels like engaging), at least through money and family connections- be at his mercy so willingly does things to his magic that he can't figure out how to repress anymore. Reaper wants to explore, revere, and taste Sans' body, savor every second of their intimacy like it's the last time they do this. In Sans' line of work, it very well might be.

"Nothing will ever be enough," Reaper whispers back, a slight growl rumbling in his chest before he hungrily kisses Sans.

The smaller skeleton kisses back eagerly. Apparently, last night wasn't enough for him either and Reaper can't help grinning into the kiss. Sans wraps his legs around Reaper's waist and they both hiss when the magic in their crotch touch. Reaper drops the pants he stupidly put on earlier, really, there was no need for them in the first place and he should've known that, while Sans' magic forms the prettiest entrance for Reaper.

Some days Reaper likes to take his time exploring Sans' body during endless foreplay, but his earlier exploration of Sans' sleepy form already took care of that. Now he just wants to make Sans scream his name, so without further ado, he dives skull first between Sans' legs.

"ooh i love it when you're like that," Sans pants and huffs in an attempt at laughter, but his squirming legs are a telltale sign that Reaper's treatment of his pussy isn't without effect. "all eager and impatient to take me… thought you of all people should know- ah! restraint."

Sans can't keep the dirty talk, his version of it anyway, with how he starts meowling in pleasure. Nevertheless it's done its job in riling Reaper up.

Yes, as a professional hitman, Reaper is more than used to patience and restraint and frustration. Sitting in the back of a smelly parking lot, waiting for a target to cross the path of his sniper rifle… Those things take time, a lot of it.

But Sans' reactions, always immediate and delicious, send shivers and sparks down Reaper's body, and he doubles down on Sans' entrance. His tongue glides on his clit, tasting its wetness. Once it's of an appropriate level, Reaper finally draws back and Sans can breathe again.

"You were saying?" He teases though he feels light headed as well as he aligns himself.

"come on, lover, make me scream," Sans doesn't quite take the bait, another reason Reaper loves him so much. So small and delicate, yet nothing can break his composure.

Reaper presses himself in and starts a steady rhythm that works for both of them. They pant, they kiss, they grunt, but more than anything they feel good wrapped in each other's presence like that. Reaper grabs the headboard of the bed, a bunch of metallic rods elegantly twisted into a weaving pattern yet solid enough for him to pull on it as he pushes into Sans with all the vigor he has. Sans' skull falls back as he closes his eyesockets and finally lets out more of those whorish sounds Reaper loves so much.

Reaper grabs Sans' legs and lifts them up so they rest on his shoulders, the new angle allowing him to go in deeper into Sans.

"oh yeah, just like that," Sans whines as he makes the supreme effort of lifting his skull back up to look Reaper into the eyesocket, making him lose control.

Those deep white eyelights are too much for Reaper, they're what made him fall for Sans all these months ago and even now he can't resit, can't get enough of them. He wants Sans to look at him and him only, he wants to be in Sans' every thought like Sans is constantly on his mind. He wants to beat the Don at his own game even when he knows he lost long ago to Sans' gaze.

In a way, he's fine with the outcome.

Reaper is the first one to reach that high and he spills with a grunt into Sans' pussy. He keeps thrusting a few more times, knowing Sans shouldn't be that far anyway and a smug grin tugs at his teeth when Sans' body locks and he comes around Reaper's cock. As always, Sans is silent in his bliss but the tense scrunching of his expression is enough for Reaper.

When they both relax, Reaper lets Sans' legs down before he pulls out and drops on Sans' sweaty ribcage. They stay still and silent for a moment, but they both know the longer nothing happens the higher the chances are they will go again, as Reaper cannot stay long without kissing Sans' body, and kisses always lead to sex with them. Which is more than fine with Reaper.

So when Sans wriggles his way out of under Reaper's body, Reaper lets out a pathetic, disappointed sound.

"don't be like that," Sans chuckles as he walks to his closet for a fresh suit. The one from last night lies at the foot of the bed, wrinkled and smelly, and the Don needs to be presentable for today's activities.

Speaking of activities…

"So? What are your plans for today?" Reluctantly, Reaper gets up as well, though he doesn't bother and just puts back on his suit from yesterday. He does smooth his hands over the fabric of his shirt, he can't allow his disheveled appearance to negatively impact Sans' perfectly groomed style. Thankfully his dark grey shirt and ink black pants are forgiving.

He moves behind Sans to help him with his suspenders while Sans gives him a run down of the day to come. "i'm meeting paps for breakfast," he says fondly before he fixes his expression to something more guarded and cautious, befitting the level of eagerness he feels for the rest of his daily schedule, "then i got a meeting with don dreemurr at noon. we're going over that mess he allowed to happen to the northern neighborhood."

Reaper tsks. He knows Sans is particularly upset about how the other don let the situation unfold. Sans and Don Dreemurr have a relatively friendly relationship, as friendly as anything in the mafia goes, but the way the goat monster handled things doesn't look particularly good on him. Which could in turn look bad on Sans, who likes to make sure he has an impeccable reputation. It's a chore, but Sans needs to deal with Don Dreemurr.

…Or Reaper could deal with Don Dreemurr himself. Nobody would know.

It's not because he failed to kill Sans that he suddenly became obsolete as a hitman.

Reaper only realizes his expression has turned a tad too dark when he feels a small, porcelain finger poke at his cheek.

"cheer up, it's gonna go fine," Sans grins nonchalantly. Reaper has to remember that Sans is used to dealing with bigger fry than the goat. But then Sans drops a bomb. "i also have a meeting with don nightmare later tonight to discuss… something."

Reaper focuses all his efforts into keeping his face as neutral as possible, but he feels on edge. While Sans is now aware of Reaper's identity as a hitman and the conditions that led them to meet, Reaper never revealed the name of the employers who hired him to assassinate Sans a little over a year ago. It might be true that Reaper never had any direct contact with Don Nightmare himself, but it wasn't hard to figure out he was the one behind it all when Killer made contact with Reaper to hire his services. Reaper isn't dumb today and he wasn't back then, he was already keeping tabs on every Don in the city, and Killer is Don Nightmare's little puppy on a leash. There was no mistaking who the orders to eliminate Sans came from.

His body follows Sans on autopilot throughout morning and lunch with Don Dreemurr, but he can't keep his mind off what's going to happen to him when Sans meets with Don Nightmare. Logically, Reaper should be… dealt with. It's the rule. He's a hitman, he took money for an execution that he didn't perform, and that's a bigger crime than deserting the army. Keeping the money would be bad enough already, and would warrant the loss of a limb or two, or a family member if Reaper had any left, but Reaper managed to put himself in an even worse position: not only did he let his target live, he's gotten himself involved with Sans, in more than one way. He's Sans' confident, bodyguard and lover all at once.

He can only wonder what Don Nightmare will do to him, but if he's to be really honest with himself, he's much more worried about Sans. Not in the sense (heh) that the goopy skeleton might lethally harm the small Don, no. Sans is the strongest monster in this city. Even so, Reaper doesn't have nearly enough information about Don Nightmare, who is new enough in town to potentially still be hiding some secret abilities. Especially when those creepy tentacles of his are concerned.

Besides, he has no business meeting with Sans, Reaper thinks. They're not playing at the same level. Maybe that's what Don Nightmare is looking for? An in into the higher grounds of the mafia world? Since his plan to eliminate Sans backfired, maybe he's trying to win him over instead? Reaper can't help the anxious feelings that this might very well be Don Nightmare's plan: lure Sans in with the prospect of an alliance, and then finish Reaper's job himself.

As Sans gets out of the car to head to the restaurant Don Nightmare is waiting for him in, Reaper makes a point of walking as close to Sans' back as he's allowed in his position. If Sans gets hurt because Reaper was a weak fool and fell for Don Nightmare's trap, he will never forgive himself. He's ready to wreck havoc in the high-end establishment if it means protecting the tiny skeleton, and fuck the mafia code. Civilians or not, Reaper's mission is to make sure Sans comes out of that meeting alive and unharmed.

Unaware of the mounting tension whirling in Reaper's mind, Sans nonchalantly makes his way to a table at the far end of the restaurant, whistling a silly tune under his breath. Don Nightmare and his dog are already sat at the table, though the dark-boned monster politely stands up to shake Sans' hand.

"heya nighty," Sans grins, his voice light and happy. "can i call you nighty? i'mma call you nighty."

If Nighty is displeased by the nickname, he doesn't let it show on his face, which doesn't mean much considering his seemingly perpetual grumpy expression. His single eyelight shines a bright, dangerous mint color in the darkness of his remaining eyesocket. Reaper tries to figure out if Don Nightmare is just playing nice because he knows how powerful Sans is and that was clearly a threat (or rather that was just Sans testing the waters but that's basically the same in their world), or because Don Nightmare is biding his time in the hopes of getting Sans to lower down his guard. No matter, Reaper won't lower his.

Next to Don Nightmare, unceremoniously slumped on the chair, Killer waves at Reaper with an amused grin that doesn't match the emptiness of his devoid eyesockets. Fuck him. Reaper doesn't need his eyelights either, he can look creepy too.

Ignoring the nickname remark, Don Nightmare pulls out a stack of documents from a briefcase, pushing it toward Sans. "I brought what you asked me. Here are all the receipts I have."

Reaper raises a curious eyebrow while Sans grabs the papers and starts looking through the stack, pulling a sheet here and there and placing it back between the two Dons. Reaper knows it's not his place to ask what's going on in the middle of what's obviously a deal of some sort, after all, if Sans wanted him to know, he would've let Reaper in the loop, but he can't help the curiosity and slight unease. He can't protect Sans efficiently if he doesn't know the ins and outs of a threat. Trying to look over Sans' shoulder to read what's on the documents is pointless though, Sans isn't known for making such rookie mistakes.

Sans is mostly silent as he goes through the papers, his expression focused and serious to Reaper who knows him so well. But for an unfamiliar monster like Don Nightmare or his right hand, Sans must appear just as relaxed and nonchalant as an innocent man going through the menu at a restaurant. Killer's barely even paying attention to Sans, focusing on Reaper instead.

It's clear Killer remembers him too, and Reaper is already thinking of ways to get rid of the creepy, void-socketed skeleton. He doubts any excuse of why Sans is still alive would be received well, and he doesn't have the money anyway to pay them back.

Suddenly Reaper wonders if this meeting is about him. He didn't think of that, but that would make sense (heh), wouldn't it? It would certainly answer the question as to why Sans didn't discuss the details of the deal before taking Reaper there… Are those documents about Reaper? Don Nightmare mentioned they were receipts, but he didn't say what for. What if it was proof that Reaper was hired to kill Sans? Sure, Sans knows about it already, but Reaper might have forgotten to let him know he never gave back the money he received. Does Sans have any doubt about Reaper's loyalty to him? Was getting Reaper into his bed just a scheme to discover the truth about Reaper's intentions to harm Sans? Surely the Don can't possibly think Reaper will ever carry on the mission! Has Reaper been unintentionally acting suspicious lately?

Killer's low chuckle is what draws Reaper out of his spiraling thoughts and it takes a considerable amount of effort for Reaper to not react. In truth, he wants to run away like a coward, but his mind, body and SOUL all belong to Sans and if today is the day he dusts by the hand of his lover, then so be it.

"anything funny you wanna share?" Sans asks with a sweet smile, startling Killer, who chokes on his laughter. "i'm always down for a good laugh."

Killer just shrugs and crosses his hands behind his skull, leaning back into the chair. He's exuding an air of false relaxation that just doesn't sit well with Reaper. If he's going to attack Sans, Reaper must be ready.

"Answer Don Sans, you dimwit," Nightmare grumbles as he kicks Killer's shin under the table, making him lose that stupid smugness. Reaper can't help grinning a little.

"ouch boss! that wasn't nice," he mumbles, rubbing his shin before shooting Sans a charming smile. "it's nothing don sans. was just thinking back about that time i hired a hitman to dust someone, and the guy just ran with the money and got frisky with the very monster he was supposed to eliminate. real hilarious if you ask me, but boss here wasn't very pleased with me for losing all that money…"

If Reaper was tense before, it's nothing compared to how his magic turns to ice in his bones and freezes his entire body. He doesn't even dare to breathe.

That's it, he's over. Sans is going to ask questions, if not to Killer right now, at least to Reaper later in the car, he just knows it. His mind is racing, trying to find any plausible excuse, and he doubt Sans is gullible enough to buy that Reaper just lost the money… Still, Reaper has to try to convince Sans that he didn't keep the money because he still intends to finish the job.

Reaper barely registers Sans chuckling nonchalantly, so much so that the Don could sound actually amused if Reaper's mind wasn't otherwise preoccupied.

"heh heh, yeah that can happen. tough luck."

Sans makes no further comment and resumes his reading. After ten more minutes of silence, he's done with the sorting out and pushes the smallest stack toward Don Nightmare.

"these ones you keep. they look like private business to me. the rest i can take care of," he says before standing up, setting into motion Don Nightmare and the asshole. Reaper stays on the side of caution and doesn't move.

"So, do we have a deal?" Nightmare asks as he tentatively lifts a hand for Sans to shake.

Sans accepts it with an easy smile. "sure. welcome to the family, nighty."

So Reaper was right about that then. Don Nightmare arranged this meeting with Sans so they could go over Don Nightmare's financial situation. It's not the first time a new member is added to Sans' family since Reaper has joined, and typically the only requirements Sans makes is to have one's wallet in order. He doesn't like it when outsiders bring dirty money into the family, so he checks any debts and payments the aspiring mobster has made over the last few years.

Sans is known in the mafia world for his particularly sweet deals: upon entering the family, he'll clear most of the newcomer's debts, provided that they share something of value in return.

Reaper wonders what Don Nightmare offered to Sans. He might never know.

The two Dons shake hands, then Reaper follows Sans out of the restaurant.

"take us home, i'm tired," Sans yawns as they get in the car.

The way back home is silent and tense, for Reaper at least. Unless Sans is faking sleep. He manages to wake up by the time they arrive, and Reaper knows what's coming next so he doesn't bother stalling.

"Am I in trouble?" He asks stupidly. Of course he's in trouble. The worst trouble ever.

Yet Sans is, as always, full of surprises and simply replies, "whatever for?"

Reaper can't resist rolling invisible eyelights.

"Please Sans, don't play dumb with me. We both know who Killer was refering to."

He grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles pop. He stares straight ahead, carefully avoiding looking to his right in case Sans is already getting a gun out to deal with the situation. He's not sure he wants to be witness to his own dusting.

"yeah well… that actually happens more often than you'd think. or i'd like."

What is Sans' deal! Is he trying to make excuses for Reaper or just buying time for… who knows what! Reaper is sitting right next to him in the car, as easy a target as it gets, and parked as they are right in front of Sans' mansion, it would be oh so easy to make the whole crime scene disappear!

Reaper can't take it anymore, he whips his skull around and grabs Sans' shoulders, shaking him.

"I was hired to kill you, Sans! I didn't but I kept the money! I haven't finished the job, I'm a liability to you! Sooner or later, Don Nightmare is going to take it out on me, or you!" He feels his eyesockets start to prickle. "You need to get rid of me."

With everything laid flat in front of Sans, there is no way for the little Don to play dumb anymore. But he stays silent and just stares at Reaper, expressionless for several long minutes.

Until a big fat smile stretches on his teeth.

"gotcha!"

He wriggles himself free from Reaper's hold and flicks the point of his nasal aperture.

"Wha- huh?" Reaper blabbers as he rubs his face. "What do you mean, 'gotcha'?"

Sans giggles so openly and carelessly, the way he only does when he's hanging out with his brother, that Reaper can't help but smile a little himself. Sans' laughter is contagious on any given day, and Reaper is particularly weak to it. Soon, all tension evaporates from him and is replaced by confusion.

"i already knew, i was just waiting for you to confess," Sans explains when he calms down. "oh, you should've seen your face when you told me. so serious!"

Yes well, in Reaper's defense, he really thought he was going to be dusted right then and there…

Reaper lets out a shaky breath, rubbing a hand over his sternum to calm down his SOUL.

"So… I'm not in trouble?" Sans shakes his skull no, still chuckling. Reaper hesitates to say the next part, but he has to know. "I'm thankful you're willing to spare me but… why? Were you… Are you not worried I might want to finish the job one day? If only to get Killer and Don Nightmare off my case. I can't imagine Don goopy tentacles is happy with me keeping all that money…"

Sans snorts but his laughter finally calms down for good and he gives Reaper a very distracting lopsided smile.

"don't you worry your pretty butt about any debt to nighty, i've already paid it all off a while ago. i just kept you in the dark about this to entertain myself. it's all about the payoff, you see?"

"What?" Reaper gasps. "You paid it off? Why?"

Once again, he's not ungrateful, but… It just doesn't make sense (heh) to him why Sans would do this! Especially if it was a while ago like the Don suggests.

"because i didn't want nighty to take it out on you, you bonehead," Sans replies, flicking Reaper's nose again. "or on me for that matter. didn't really feel like taking the hit for you, but i also didn't want nighty to hurt someone i care about. it was easier to simply give him some money." Reaper's SOUL gives an intense throb. Sans cares about him. "besides, it gave him an in to become one of my associates and i do think he'll be more manageable as part of my family than he was as a stray mob. i don't want another asgore situation. win-win."

When he puts it that way, Sans' reasoning makes perfect sense. Still, it's hard for Reaper to focus on the seriousness of the conversation when he can't stop thinking about Sans saying he cares about Reaper. They've exchanged the l-word already, but Sans' open affection for Reaper will never not get him all bothered.

He shakes his skull. Focus, focus.

"I can't tell you how grateful I am that you're sparing me, Sans. I'll do everything to make it up to you. I'll pay you back, I promise."

Sans huffs light-heartedly and pats him on the shoulder. As he gets out of the car and nods to the house, he casually replies, "eh, i think you've learned your lesson. i've let you marinate in your thoughts for long enough and i trust you know now not to lie by omission to me anymore." His expression darkens for a second before he's all smile again. "now come on, i actually wanna go to sleep."

That's not totally wrong, Reaper can only agree as he follows after his Don. He's been torturing himself about this for months now, and he's glad that Sans finally lifted the weight Reaper didn't realize he was carrying for nothing. He has nothing left to hide to his Don and lover now, and he intends to keep it that way. He just hopes Don Nightmare and Killer will play nice with him, but he's not too worried about them now that Sans is their boss.

Gently, he slips his fingers into Sans'.

"Let me at least walk you to your room," he whispers, his baritone voice almost silent into the quiet of the night. "As a formal apology."

Sans picks up the innuendo without trouble, and flashes back his sultriest grin.

"i'll only accept the apology if you go a step further and get me to my bed."

"Deal."

Well. They don't quite make it to the bed, but Reaper is pardoned nonetheless.

#Cognito fic #event prize #Sans #Reaper!Sans #Sans/Reaper #mafia AU #Nightmare!Sans #Killer!Sans

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