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floatmeintothesun · 11 months

Text

Utterly Enraptured

Pairing; Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

tags; breeding, little bit of overstimulation, Miguel goes into rut, creampie, wordcount 4k

Summary; Miguel seems to have forgotten about a certain side effect from having half of his genetic makeup being spider DNA

EXPLICIT - MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

—

Wet, warm, perfectly molded to his length. Large palms pressing against thighs, his mouth quieting your little gasps and hiccups. His murmured praise, his filthy tongue pressing against your hole wetly, licking long stripes up your skin. Hungry. The twitch of his hips, the choked whimpers, he wants it. Needs it.

You’re gasping, trying in vain to muffle your moans into the pillow while he completely and irrevocably rearranges your insides. You’re so fucking sweet – god, he wants nothing more than to stuff you full of his seed, pull out and admire the view of him seeping out from your weeping pussy.

He wants to push it all back in with spit slicked fingers, kiss away all of your tears and do it all over again until you’re sobbing in pleasure, begging for more, more, more –

Miguel wakes up feeling fire burn at the base of his spine and the undeniable hardening of his cock. He immediately wants to just roll over and go back to bed.

It’s 7:47, he has to get up in ten minutes, he’s way too hot but the floors are probably freezing, his blankets are so so comfortable and his dick is aching. So far, great start to his morning. Miguel turns to his side, finding your side of the bed empty. He resists the urge to groan.

Right, you have your early work shift today.

He mourns the loss of the warmth as he kicks off his blankets with one languid motion. For a moment he’s tempted to just indulge himself right now, right here. Your scent is still in the air, soaked into your pillow, heady and intoxicating.

Absent-mindedly he palms himself, cupping the sizable bulge and considers. Miguel wants you, to be completely honest. Always does. Like a thirst that will never be quenched, he craves you. All of you. Your hands, your flesh, your blood — if he could, he’d worship every single inch of you for the rest of eternity.

And you’re not here. Unfortunately. He imagines your hand, smaller than his, wrapping securely around his length, the other curled loosely around his hot, swollen balls, and slowly exhales.

He can wait. He has self control. He doesn’t have time to fist himself like a wild animal. He has an online meeting to attend since he, for once, is taking a break from the Spider Verse for a day or two.

Miguel heaves a sigh and gets up, stretching lazily. The chill seeps into his skin and he resigns himself to taking a cold shower.

(He ends up having to clean spurts of creamy white off of the shower walls anyway. He is so fucked.)

—

There’s something wrong with him. There’s something wrong with today. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Miguel can’t get you out of his head.

You usually don’t leave his mind regardless, but at the moment, all he can think of is bending you over the nearest flat surface, letting you slather at his tip, feeling your sweet, tight pussy clench around him while he whispers obscenities in your ear.

He thinks of you all day, but his thoughts are never this…vividly vulgar. Miguel will admit to having the stray passing instance but right now? He’s practically been a depraved fucking dog for the past three hours straight.

This morning didn’t help. That damn dream didn’t help. He’s been staring at his laptop for the past thirty minutes trying desperately to redirect his thoughts to something more productive, his board members are droning on and on about stock values and whatnot – he has work to finish, but jesus, he can’t think of anything but you.

Your taste, your heat, your everything. He’s hard as rock as he mumbles some bullshit excuse to his meeting members before shutting off his laptop with a definite click. It’s as if a fog has filled his head, keeping him drunk and dizzy. Miguel’s body feels unbearably hot right now, scorching, needing.

“Lyla,” his voice is strangled. “What’s the date?”

His assistant flickers to life next to him, drawing up a calendar.

“Mm…it’s the 8th,” she says, blinking down at him. “Ah, I see. Your uh, time of the month, y’know?” She wiggles her eyebrows and he growls, waving her away. She pops up a little ways away, putting her hands on her hips.“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, man,” Lyla frowns. “Just telling you,”

“Thanks,” He says bitingly, dismissing her and groaning into his hands. You won’t be home until later – and later means that he’s going to have to suffer for the next few hours, alone and unbearably horny. Wonderful.

Mentally, he berates himself with a low hiss, feeling annoyed that he didn't connect the dots earlier. His throat is dry and he swallows raspily.

He should’ve looked at the date, how could he have forgotten? Heightened sensitivity, overheating, inability to focus, the urge to fuck you into next week — all signs pointing to a very large neon billboard that says “SPIDER INSTINCT FUCKERY” in big bold letters. In other words, mating period.

It happens every other month through the 8th to the 10th when his body decides that it’s time to procreate and do nothing else for the next two days.

He sucks in a ragged breath slowly, trying to calm his fast beating heart. It doesn’t work, only serving to remind him of the pulsing in his chest and between his legs.

It wasn’t this bad before he started dating you. All he had to do was tug on his cock a few times and he was fine, for the most part. Anything else could be burned off by fighting criminals and doing his usual dimensional overseeing.

That was before you. You and your gorgeous smile, you and your honeyed scent, you and your burning touch. He’s so hungry — greedy. He wants your flesh in his hands, your slick on his chin, your hands on his body.

He doesn’t even realize he’s getting up from the couch and migrating to your shared room until his knees hit the mattress and his huge frame curls up on your side of the bed. His cock is stupidly hard, twitching and throbbing from where it’s formed a tent in his sweatpants.

Miguel can already feel the precum seeping out of him and staining his boxers. A whine rips itself out of his throat as he buries his head into your pillow, basking in your familiar sweet smell.

A heady mixture of your favorite shampoo, perfume and body, all swirling around him as he grinds his lower half into the bed desperately like a dog in heat.

It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

He needs you, craves you. His large hand snakes down to wrap around his weeping length, the other pulling down his sweat pants and boxers to give him some relief. It’s agony, waiting for you to come home.

He wishes you were here right now, wishes that he could pepper your face with kisses and croon apologies while he slowly bottoms out in your tight cunt while you writhe beneath him.

Or on top of him. He doesn’t give a damn. Any position you want, he’ll do it.

Just imagining your sweet whines and whimpers has his breath labored. He presses the heel of his palm against his stiff length, hissing at the jolt of pleasure and sensitivity that burns through him. It’s painfully dry, but he takes the slick precum dripping out of his tip to aid the tight slide of his fist over his fat cock. God, he just needs to pump you full of him and fuck it all back into you. The thought of you, all swollen and glowing with his kid makes him nearly feral.

His hips jerk upwards and he can’t help but imagine your hand instead of his, can’t help but imagine how much better it would feel.

He gasps quietly as his thumb presses against his slit, jaw tightening, fangs threatening to break skin. The hand currently not wrapped around his cock is clenching the bedsheets hard enough to rip.

He just needs to wait. He just has to wait a little longer. You’ll be home soon.

—

You slip off your shoes at the door, setting them aside on the rack near the entrance. The warmth from the apartment chases away the chill and you set down your bag, heaving a sigh of relief. You’ve been looking forward to spending time with your boyfriend all day since he has a rare day at home today.

You peek around the hall, letting your aching feet be comforted by the rugs near the living room. Where is Miguel anyways?

“Heyyyy,” Lyla pops up in front of you suddenly, grinning when you startle. “Looking for Miguel?”

You set a hand on your chest trying to calm your jackrabbiting heart, before giving her a small smile.

“Yeah. Is he here right now? I mean he said he would be, but I don’t know if he’s doing his Spider-man thing right now,” You tilt your head as Lyla’s expression flickers. She adjusts her glasses, glancing at your bedroom door.

“Well uh, he’s in there. Might wanna be careful though,” She mutters, checking out her bright pink nails absentmindedly. You raise an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?”

In lieu of explanation she draws up a calendar and materializes a glitching pen in her hands, circling the date. Your frown in confusion.

“The…8th?” You blink and she nods. Why would today be significant? It’s not your anniversary, the only thing that comes to mind at the moment is… “Oh.” You swallow dryly, remembering vague flashes from two months ago. Two months ago when he had fucked you silly for what was basically two days, interspersed with breaks in between. Then the sheepish explanation of what he calls "mating period" where his DNA practically drives him insane with rampant horniness.

Lyla nods empathetically.

“Yeah…well, good luck! I've heard that massages really help with soreness.” She vanishes with a pop of golden glimmers, leaving you alone in the hall.

You glance where she had been moments prior before sighing. Dating a man with half of his makeup being spider DNA came with its quirks. Your feet carry you down the hall and you open the door to find –

Oh fuck.

Miguel, in all of his bare glory, strong thighs spread wide, leaving nothing to the imagination. His sweatpants and shirt are in a heap on the floor, most likely thrown in his haste. His heaving chest is gleaming with sweat, abdomen twitching, looking like a Greek God.

And there, his throbbing, swollen cock squeezed tightly in his fist, his hips working back and forth at a languid pace. Long and thick, the tip shining slightly with precum. It makes you salivate, sticky heat beginning to grow between your legs.

The room's atmosphere is heavy as you mindlessly draw closer. Fuck, his gasps and whimpers sound so pretty. Half of his large frame is hanging off the bed as you realize he's on your side, face buried desperately in your pillow.

"B – baby," His words stutter in his throat as your scent overwhelms him, his nostrils flaring. "Please, please, please —fuck, need you so bad," he quivers, taking his hand off of his face to look back at you. He's grimacing, gorgeous plush lips stretched into a pathetic pout and you hum in acknowledgement, putting a hand on his thigh. He twitches but makes no other move.

Your clit throbs in response to the pure neediness in his voice, high and whiny. He sounds utterly wrecked, squeezing his cock and waiting for you to touch him. You’re so close, your hand is on his body, but it’s not where he wants it.

“You’re so desperate, Miguel,” You croon, reaching out slowly and wrapping your hand around his base. He makes a choked sound, his hand falling away to run through his sweaty hair. “Aren’t you?”

He doesn’t answer for a second, visibly trying to contain himself before he speaks, low and ragged.

“Yes,” He finally hisses, crimson irises foggy and clouded with lust. You hum in approval at his answer, squeezing lightly as you begin to pump him, going at a pace you know is wholly too slow for his taste. “Don’t t — tease me, cariño. Faster, baby, please,” He begs, his breath stuttering in his chest.

You rock back on your heel as you begin stroking faster, your thumb tracing the veins on the underside. Miguel’s eyes roll back as your deliciously hot mouth descends on him, your tongue circling his tip juuust the way he likes it. Fuck, you can feel yourself getting wetter with each trembling hiss and moan you pull out of this man — your man. You separate from him with a pop, licking pre from sticky fingers while he watches hungrily.

The smell of arousal — your arousal, invades his senses and his hands twitch and he lunges, pulling you up to him and flipping you over. You yelp in surprise as his hands immediately squeeze flesh, your hips, your thighs, your ass, anywhere he has access to.

You tilt up to kiss him and he leans down, pressing his lips to yours firmly. His tongue swipes against your bottom lip and when you allow him access inside he moans quietly, fangs digging into your lower lip lightly.

Your shirt is practically discarded at the speed of light and you shiver for a second at the cold washing over your skin before Miguel's all over you again.

He leans forward to fumble with your bra, fingers struggling to unclasp the hooks on the back. You laugh and pull it off yourself, to which he rolls his eyes fondly before his mirth is devoured by desire.

Thick fingers nimbly pull at your pants waistline.

"Take these off too, sweetheart," He whispers, leaving wet open mouth kisses trailing down your neck. You shiver, obliging quickly and kicking them off. They land somewhere on the floor and you don't care enough to look for them. Not when Miguel is between your legs, staring down at your clothed pussy like it's his last meal.

He inhales slowly, leaning down to press his head against your thigh. You smell so fucking intoxicating, he wants nothing more than to bury his face between your legs and make you scream in pleasure. But first he has to get rid of your panties.

"Hurry up, Miguel, please," You whine, wiggling your hips as if to try and encourage him. As if he needs any sort of encouragement.

"Do you care about these panties?" He asks, quick and low. You blink.

"No…? –! " You gasp as he lowers his head and fucking rips them off of you in one quick motion with his damn teeth. "Miguel!"

"I'll get you new ones, baby. Promise." He kisses your inner thigh, holding you down with two large searing hands. "As many as you want. As long as I get to have this goddamn pussy, I'll get you anything."

Your glistening lips look absolutely delicious, all wet and soaked from watching him play with his cock in front of you. He wants to put his mouth on your throbbing, swollen clit until you sob, wants your pussy in his face, wants his tongue in you while you grab at his hair and urge him for more. You'd taste divine, and he nearly just decides to do it anyway.

But his cock is so hard it almost hurts and he's about three seconds away from getting blue balls, so instead he sinks one finger in your drenched cunt. Your breath hitches and you turn your head into a pillow as he begins to finger fuck you in earnest. The obscene sound of slick gushing out from your hole makes Miguel nearly feral, nearly has his eyes rolling back into his head as he feels your tightness squeeze and pulse around his thick digit. You hiss at the stretch, slow pain and growing pleasure intertwining as Miguel goes slow adding a second.

"You're doing so good, so good, baby. You feel so – fuck, so good. Can you take one more?" He asks breathlessly. "C’mon, you're such a good girl, aren't you?"

You nod amidst blurry vision, gasping as he slides another finger in. His pace is fast and punishing, and the final goddamn nail on the coffin is the way his fingers press into your g-spot, while his thumb rubs messy circles on your puffy clit.

"Cum, baby, you can do it, you can fucking cum for me, can't you?" He latches onto your tit, swirling his tongue around your nipple in such a way that makes your head foggy.

“Mig – guel!” You whine brokenly as he rolls it between his teeth, sharp points of pleasure burning up your spine like wildfire. Miguel can’t help but groan at the feeling of your sweet cunt clamping down on his fingers, and he increases his speed at the telltale signs of your impending orgasm. You're so so close and when the building coil in your lower stomach finally snaps, you sob, gushing all over his palm.

Your bare chest heaves as he murmurs sweet praise in your ear, telling you that "You did so good, cariño," and "Look at you, you're so gorgeous all spread out like this,". Miguel drags his tongue down your neck, pulling away for a second to suck your juices off his fingers in an awfully erotic display of tongue, saliva, and a flash of a grin.

He presses kisses to your face, trying his absolute damndest not to hump you like a fucking dog but he’s waited so long and he’s going to go fucking insane if he doesn’t get your pretty pussy wrapped around his cock in the next two seconds.

“C’mere, baby,” Miguel takes himself in hand, his other keeping your thighs spread so he can see your twitching hole all wet and ready for him. “Can’t wait any damn longer – I’ll fuckin’ – explode or something.”

Looking up at him from your position is absolutely deadly. His hair is disheveled, strands slipping from their usually neat positions, his expression is utterly and completely devoted as his chest heaves. Your eyes travel down to shamelessly stare at his massive package, complete with his proportionally large hand curled around the weeping length.

He’s so stiff that he splits your lips easily, and he groans at the feeling of your slick coating the underside of his cock. You can’t help but gasp as he grinds against you slowly before the head catches on your clit and pushes inside.

And oh god, he could die right here and be happy, he could fucking die with the tip of his dick buried in your tight pussy and think that his life is fulfilled. It takes everything in him not to cum and paint your insides in a creamy white. Your wet walls are so slick and he hisses as they clamp down on him.

“Fuuuuck… baby you — you gotta loosen up for me, relax — mnnshit — “ he gasps, and you cry out, shifting underneath him. He rubs sloppy circles on your clit, his breathing labored as a few more inches of his monstrous cock slide in, “There we go, there we — nnngh, okay, good, so fucking good, you’re such a pretty girl,” he babbles nonsensically, practically losing his mind in the warmth.

“M — Miguel,” You hiccup, nudging him out of his daze. “Move — please, s’not enough,” You want him in your guts, you want him to fuck you until the only thing you can remember is the shape of his cock.

And who is he to deny you?

He shoves the rest of himself in in one fluid motion, his throat closing in on itself as he bottoms out, his pelvis flush to yours. His mouth parts slightly as his lips form an o shape, and he thrusts once, caging you in his burly arms.

“Oh shit — I’m gonna move, okay? M’gonna move,” he warns you, before pulling out slowly only to slam his hips back into yours with wild abandon. You suck in a startled breath as he begins to absolutely fuck your brains out, fire igniting deep in your lower stomach again. There’s none of his usual careful approach, there’s no teasing, no smug remarks. He’s focused on one thing and one thing only: stuffing you full of his seed until he physically can’t anymore.

You can barely get anything out as he grinds against you, his dick so deep inside that you’re sure that he’s showing through your lower stomach. Fuck – he feels so good as he fills your tight pussy, rocking precisely in all of your sensitive spots. The head of him practically kisses your damn cervix, sending you rocketing towards your second orgasm of the night.

Your brain is so mushy and pleasure-drowned that it takes you a second to realize that he’s still talking and oh fuck.

“Let me fill you, le— let me cum inside, please, please, baby, I wan – nngh, I want you all round and swollen f’me,” he sounds utterly wrecked, desperate and hungry all rolled in at once, “Wouldn’t you look so pretty an’ gorgeous? Pleas – e, please? Need you full, all full of me,” Miguel begs, grunting lowly when you clamp down on him from the downright filth flowing from his mouth.

“Yes – Miguel, just –nnhgod, oh shit, oh fuck,” You lose the tail end of your sentence as your head melts out of your ears and pleasure sears through your veins. Miguel whimpers at your words, shoving himself deeper than you thought was humanly possible.

“Waited so long for you, baby, was so – was so lonely, needed you – need you – “ He hits a spot that has you keening, eyes rolling back and your head bumping against the headboard of the bed. You’re driving him utterly insane, your moans and cries sounding like a blended symphony of bliss pounding through his eardrums. He leans down to litter any inch of bare skin he has access to in dark marks, his burning mouth trailing wetly down the valley between your breasts.

“M’close, Mig – uel, I’m going to cum, baby –” You manage to gasp out before you’re overwhelmed completely and your vision erupts into stars as you gush around him for the second time in one day. It feels like someone has poured molten pleasure down your veins and you’re incandescent with it.

Miguel chokes, low and deep in his throat, feeling your slick pussy tighten around his girthy cock, slathered in your juices. It tears a downright animalistic sound out of him, a trembling snarl from somewhere in his chest as he thrusts once, twice, then finally pumps you full of creamy thick seed.

His mouth is agape, transfixed in a silent ‘o’ as his hips stutter and his balls draw up tight, every atom in his body devoted to filling you completely. When he’s finished, he rolls his hips a few more times, fucking his cum deeper inside of you despite his hiss of overstimulation.

Your limbs are putty in his hands as he slides out slowly and adjusts you into a more comfortable position, his eyes lingering on the way some of his cum drips out of your loose hole. He pushes it all back in with two fingers, giving you a small smile of apology at your choked mutter, before collapsing down next to you and dragging you close to his chest.

“...How long does this last again?” You rasp, voice sore from screaming. Miguel hums in contemplation, nosing your shoulder from where he’s draped over you.

“About a day and a half more to go,” He responds languidly after a moment. “Are you okay with that?”

You know you’re going to be so sore by the end of it. You know you’ll probably be feeling it for weeks on end after. You know you’ll probably have to take a few sick days to recover too.

“Mhm,” You answer, kissing his cheek. “I can handle it,”

“That’s good,” He replies quietly, and you stiffen, feeling his fat softened cock twitch against your thigh. He raises his head to give you a semi sheepish look and you gulp.

Maybe you can’t handle it, actually. It’s okay though, since Miguel will take care of you long after.

—

Man im so sorry this was pretty late. At least i managed to get it in before October ended. Also I’d let that man dick me down any day of the week, 24/7 😻😻

#across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #into the spider verse #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine

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floatmeintothesun-2 · 9 months

Text

Utterly Enraptured

Pairing; Miguel O’Hara x f!reader

tags; breeding, little bit of overstimulation, Miguel goes into rut, creampie, wordcount 4k

Summary; Miguel seems to have forgotten about a certain side effect from having half of his genetic makeup being spider DNA

EXPLICIT - MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

—

He wants to push it all back in with spit slicked fingers, kiss away all of your tears and do it all over again until you’re sobbing in pleasure, begging for more, more, more –

Miguel wakes up feeling fire burn at the base of his spine and the undeniable hardening of his cock. He immediately wants to just roll over and go back to bed.

Right, you have your early work shift today.

And you’re not here. Unfortunately. He imagines your hand, smaller than his, wrapping securely around his length, the other curled loosely around his hot, swollen balls, and slowly exhales.

Miguel heaves a sigh and gets up, stretching lazily. The chill seeps into his skin and he resigns himself to taking a cold shower.

(He ends up having to clean spurts of creamy white off of the shower walls anyway. He is so fucked.)

—

There’s something wrong with him. There’s something wrong with today. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Miguel can’t get you out of his head.

“Lyla,” his voice is strangled. “What’s the date?”

His assistant flickers to life next to him, drawing up a calendar.

Mentally, he berates himself with a low hiss, feeling annoyed that he didn't connect the dots earlier. His throat is dry and he swallows raspily.

It happens every other month through the 8th to the 10th when his body decides that it’s time to procreate and do nothing else for the next two days.

He sucks in a ragged breath slowly, trying to calm his fast beating heart. It doesn’t work, only serving to remind him of the pulsing in his chest and between his legs.

Miguel can already feel the precum seeping out of him and staining his boxers. A whine rips itself out of his throat as he buries his head into your pillow, basking in your familiar sweet smell.

A heady mixture of your favorite shampoo, perfume and body, all swirling around him as he grinds his lower half into the bed desperately like a dog in heat.

It’s not enough. It’s not enough.

He wishes you were here right now, wishes that he could pepper your face with kisses and croon apologies while he slowly bottoms out in your tight cunt while you writhe beneath him.

Or on top of him. He doesn’t give a damn. Any position you want, he’ll do it.

His hips jerk upwards and he can’t help but imagine your hand instead of his, can’t help but imagine how much better it would feel.

He gasps quietly as his thumb presses against his slit, jaw tightening, fangs threatening to break skin. The hand currently not wrapped around his cock is clenching the bedsheets hard enough to rip.

He just needs to wait. He just has to wait a little longer. You’ll be home soon.

—

You peek around the hall, letting your aching feet be comforted by the rugs near the living room. Where is Miguel anyways?

“Heyyyy,” Lyla pops up in front of you suddenly, grinning when you startle. “Looking for Miguel?”

You set a hand on your chest trying to calm your jackrabbiting heart, before giving her a small smile.

“Well uh, he’s in there. Might wanna be careful though,” She mutters, checking out her bright pink nails absentmindedly. You raise an eyebrow.

“Why’s that?”

In lieu of explanation she draws up a calendar and materializes a glitching pen in her hands, circling the date. Your frown in confusion.

Lyla nods empathetically.

“Yeah…well, good luck! I've heard that massages really help with soreness.” She vanishes with a pop of golden glimmers, leaving you alone in the hall.

Oh fuck.

He doesn’t answer for a second, visibly trying to contain himself before he speaks, low and ragged.

Your shirt is practically discarded at the speed of light and you shiver for a second at the cold washing over your skin before Miguel's all over you again.

Thick fingers nimbly pull at your pants waistline.

"Hurry up, Miguel, please," You whine, wiggling your hips as if to try and encourage him. As if he needs any sort of encouragement.

"Do you care about these panties?" He asks, quick and low. You blink.

"No…? –! " You gasp as he lowers his head and fucking rips them off of you in one quick motion with his damn teeth. "Miguel!"

"You're doing so good, so good, baby. You feel so – fuck, so good. Can you take one more?" He asks breathlessly. "C’mon, you're such a good girl, aren't you?"

"Cum, baby, you can do it, you can fucking cum for me, can't you?" He latches onto your tit, swirling his tongue around your nipple in such a way that makes your head foggy.

And who is he to deny you?

Your brain is so mushy and pleasure-drowned that it takes you a second to realize that he’s still talking and oh fuck.

“...How long does this last again?” You rasp, voice sore from screaming. Miguel hums in contemplation, nosing your shoulder from where he’s draped over you.

“About a day and a half more to go,” He responds languidly after a moment. “Are you okay with that?”

You know you’re going to be so sore by the end of it. You know you’ll probably be feeling it for weeks on end after. You know you’ll probably have to take a few sick days to recover too.

“Mhm,” You answer, kissing his cheek. “I can handle it,”

“That’s good,” He replies quietly, and you stiffen, feeling his fat softened cock twitch against your thigh. He raises his head to give you a semi sheepish look and you gulp.

Maybe you can’t handle it, actually. It’s okay though, since Miguel will take care of you long after.

#miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #astv miguel #miguel x you #Miguel smut #miguel atsv #miguel ohara

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theemporium · 2 months

Text

[3.5k] luke hits the west coast for his first long roadie of the season with some unsettling feelings about leaving jersey for so long. who would have thought his biggest problem on the road would end up being looking at his caller id over the actual hockey games he was playing? (smut)

series masterlist

hockey boy: u up?

Luke Hughes had never felt like more of a fuck boy than he did the moment he had sent the text—which was ironic when he was quite literally the opposite of a fuckboy.

He hadn’t even meant for it to come across that way. Genuinely, he did not.

Despite being officially in the NHL for over a month now, this was the first time Luke was going on a roadie across the country whilst wearing the New Jersey red on his back. Most of their away games had been in nearby cities, where they would maybe spend a day or two in another city before returning to Jersey.

But this was the longest one yet—a full ten days in the west coast for games against San Jose, LA and Anaheim.

He wanted to say it wasn’t a big deal, that he was used to the life of hockey taking him to new cities and states. But things were different in the NHL. The stakes were higher, the games meant more even this early in the season, things just felt a lot more intense.

But it felt stupid to confess as much to his brother or any of the other boys when he literally played in the playoff games last season, when the stakes were the Cup.

However, Luke couldn’t shake off the weird intensity of the roadie. He played off Jack’s concerned looks with some bullshit excuse that he was tired, that he was just struggling to sleep these days. It didn’t wave away his older brother’s concern but it got him off his back for a little bit. It let Jack focus on a different concern and not the real reason (that felt borderline childish to admit) that he felt on edge about leaving Jersey for so long.

And it meant that Luke was laying in the hotel room alone whilst Jack was out with some of the other guys on the team for dinner, embracing the one free evening they had before the game tomorrow against San Jose.

He had flipped through a variety of shows on the tv and scrolled through endless apps on his phone before he gave in, his finger hovering over the send button before he clicked it.

It hadn’t even hit him how his text sounded until your reply came through a few moments later.

cherry🍒: damn hughes

cherry🍒: you gonna ask me what i’m wearing next?

His cheeks instantly burned hot, something quite like embarrassment and awkwardness bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

At least it was hard to focus on the upcoming games when he was too busy thinking about the quickest ways to flee the country and change his identity.

hockey boy: absolutely not

Luke’s fingers moved fast on the screen, already drafting up a second message when your reply came through.

cherry🍒: rude :(

cherry🍒: maybe I had something special on for you

And that was enough to make his brain go blank, the sentence he was in the middle of typing long forgotten as he stared at the words on his screen. He almost felt guilty how quickly his imagination came up with images of you back on his bed, just like his birthday party, in something short and sexy and—

He almost dropped his phone on his face when it began buzzing in his hand, scrambling to sit up in his bed as he answered.

“H-Hello?” He cleared his throat, his face burning warmer when he heard your laugh on the other side.

“You sound a little caught off, Hughes,” you teased, lighthearted and playful. “Did I interrupt something?”

“I—no!” Luke exclaimed, though something inside him relaxed when you laughed again. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean for it to come off like that. I swear. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“I didn’t think so considering it’s been five minutes since my last message and you hadn’t replied yet. Not really setting the mood there.”

He shook his head, his lips twitching upwards. “So you’re saying you’re not wearing something special for me?”

“Unfortunately not. Just some sweats and a hoodie.”

“Hm,” Luke hummed before frowning, taking a quick glance at the time on his phone before he swore under his breath. “Shit, I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

You laughed and something in his chest tightened as he imagined the soft smile on your face as you did so. “No, I couldn’t get to sleep. I was just watching some random episode of The Vampire Diaries before you called.”

Luke blinked. “The what?”

You fell silent for a moment. “Tell me you’re joking.”

He paused as well before he spoke in the most unconvincing voice. “I’m joking?”

“Forget watching it, how have you never heard of it?!”

“I don’t know!” Luke defended weakly, shuffling back further against the pillows. “Is this your subtle way of telling me to watch it?”

“No!”

He frowned. “No?”

“I want to watch it with you. I want to see your reactions.”

Luke snorted but he didn’t disagree, something fond and warm bubbling in the pit of his stomach at your insistence. “Fine, deal,” he mused. “But it would have at least given me something to do.”

“Wow, is Jack that boring of a roommate?”

He laughed. “Nah, he went out with some of the other guys for dinner.”

“You didn’t feel like joining?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

“How come?”

“Just…didn’t feel like it,” he said, his fingers tugging on the drawstrings of his hoodie as the spiralling thoughts began to creep in again. Like a reminder he wasn’t just lying on his bed back in Jersey talking away to you on the phone, that he was actually on the other side of the country.

And it seemed like you sensed his reluctance, the shift in his voice like he seemed distant and you wanted to pull him back in.

“So you try to sext me instead?” Your voice was playful and taunting and he could imagine the smirk on your face so clearly.

“Shut up,” he groaned, his cheeks burning once again. “I didn’t—”

“You so did.”

“That was not my intention at all,” he retorted.

“Damn, Hughes, didn’t take you for a phone sex kind of a guy?”

Luke could only thank some superior being above that it wasn’t a facetime call, that you couldn’t see how bad he was blushing. “I am neither a sexting or phone sex kind of guy.”

“Boo, it’s more fun than you would think.”

His nose scrunched up. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t knock it until you try it, Luke.”

…

Despite being in two very different states, Luke had found himself on the phone with you most nights of the roadie so far.

It wasn’t really a co-dependent thing, like Jack liked to tease him about when he caught Luke waiting for your message saying you were free to call after the game in LA. It was a similar feeling he had with his friends back in Michigan or his brothers, this strong urge to tell you things. He wanted to share it with you, he wanted to tell you about something stupid Jack did in the locker room or the weird drink Curtis smuggled him at dinner.

And in turn, he wanted to hear about your day too. He wanted to hear about how the nice barista at the coffee shop on the way to work gave you a free cookie because she fucked up your order by accident. He wanted to hear about the way your upstairs neighbour had taken up tap dancing and seemed to only find eleven o’clock at night the most appropriate time to practise. He just wanted to hear you talk.

Luke was at least self-aware enough to realise he was being a bit insane with the phone calls every night when he was only gone for over a week. But day six into a ten day roadie and he just kind of wished he was chilling on your couch when listening to these stories rather than a nondescript hotel room he shared with his brother with limited privacy.

However, the phone calls had become such a routine over the last few days that he didn’t even think twice when he picked up his buzzing phone, answering and putting it on speaker as he walked towards his suitcase in only a towel.

“Hey, I’ve been waiting for your call,” Luke said, an easy smile on his face as he quickly grabbed some clothes to change into after his shower.

“Really? I didn’t realise you missed me that much. I miss you too, dude.”

Luke froze, his eyes widening as he snapped his gaze back towards his phone. He quickly grabbed it off his bed, letting out a soft ‘fuck’ when he realised it was Ethan, not you.

“Luke? You still there?”

“Uh yeah,” Luke cleared his throat. “Sorry, I just came out of the shower. So, uh, what’s up?”

“I caught the game, just wanted to make sure you were alright. Looked like a tough game but you were killer out there, bud.”

He paused, his lips twitching upwards. “You watched the game?”

“Don’t sound so surprised, dude. The boys watch every game we can. Our boy is in the big leagues! We gotta support you.”

“I didn’t know,” he admitted, his chest tightening a little.

“We miss you on the team, gotta get our fix somehow,” Ethan joked, lighthearted and playful.

And yet, Luke felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Despite flying out for his birthday party, he hadn’t really been messaging the boys back in Michigan as much as he should have. He knew they were also giving him space to settle into the NHL lifestyle and they were busy with classes and such, but his own surprise from Ethan calling confirmed enough that he needed to reach out more.

“I miss playing with you guys too,” Luke confessed, and it was true. He loved the Devils and he loved living out his dream but a small part of him itched to be back on the ice with his UMich boys again.

“Yeah but you never threw us around like that.”

Luke let out a groan, ignoring Ethan’s laughs. “I didn’t mean to knock him over like that, it was just the momentum!”

Ethan’s laughs only got louder.

…

It was the night before the Anaheim game when Jack had all but bolted out the room, muttering something about hanging out with Trevor and that he would be back before dinner.

In all honesty, Luke didn’t question it much. He just waved his brother off, saying he was going to have a small nap before he started getting ready for whatever restaurant Trevor had booked for them (assuring that it would fit their diet plan but Luke wasn’t convinced). Between the travelling and training on the road, Luke found himself more exhausted than he was from back-to-back games in Jersey.

And he genuinely was going to nap until his phone buzzed with a message from you and he found himself dialling your number before he could help himself.

“A call already? You didn’t even give me a chance to try sexting you.”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t see what the point is.”

“I like hearing you get all flustered and nervous.”

“Yeah but it’s not really the same thing, is it?” He commented, running a hand through his curls before tugging his hood back over his head. “Surely it’s just a bit…awkward.”

“It can be hot if you do it right,” you corrected him. “Personally, I think phone sex is better but it can be fun to sext too. Like a thrill, you know?”

“Yes because nothing sounds sexier than talking about sex,” he mused.

“It’s not like that,” you laughed, shuffling around on the other side of the phone. “Think of it like…foreplay.”

His brows furrowed together. “In what way?”

“You aren’t together but you’re telling each other what you would want to do if you were. What you wish you could be doing. And you’re listening to it all, listening to them get off to your words.”

Luke swallowed harshly. “It still sounds awkward.”

There was a pause on the other side. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he breathed out, shifting a little in his spot. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to facetime them and see them?”

“It’s about using your imagination, Luke,” you hummed, sounding amused by his grasp on phone sex. “It’s about taking the scraps of what they tell you and letting your brain run wild with it.”

He let out an unconvinced hum.

“Still sceptical?”

“Maybe.”

There was a small pause before you spoke again. “You’re alone, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Luke nodded, even if you couldn’t see him. “Jack won’t be back for another few hours so—”

“So you can be a good boy for me?”

His brain went blank.

“C’mon, Luke.” He could almost hear the smirk in your voice. “Remember what we said about words?”

“Yeah,” he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah, I can be…good.”

“I know you can, you’re always so good f’me,” you commented, so nonchalant and casual like your worlds didn’t make his heart beat a little faster. “Tell me what you’re doing right now.”

“Uh,” he cleared his throat. “I’m lying in bed, talking to you. But you know that—”

“What are you wearing?”

Luke glanced down at himself, the Devils branded hoodie and UMich sweatpants hardly the sexiest of outfit choices but he muttered out his response regardless. “Isn’t that the exact line you teased me about earlier?”

“You telling me you’re wearing something special just for me?”

He snorted, despite himself. “Hardly.”

“That’s fine. You look better without anything anyway. A shame you’re all the way in California, would’ve been nice to have you all to myself.”

He gulped. “Is this where I use my imagination to guess what you’d do to me?”

“If you want,” you said, laughing softly and it almost felt like you were right there beside him. “Or I could tell you how I miss hearing those pretty noises you make when you come, the little moans you let out when I touch you.”

“Shit,” he muttered. “How do you just say those things so…easily?”

“Because I know what I like and I’m confident with saying what I want. And I really like making you come, you’re always so sweet. You get so blushy and shy, it’s cute. I could only imagine what you’d be like when I get my mouth on you.”

Luke squirmed, his hand reaching down to press down on the length of his cock like it would ease the way he was twitching at her words.

“Would you like that, Luke?”

“Y-Yeah,” he breathed out, nodding even if you couldn’t see him.

“Bet you would look so pretty, all shy and nervous to touch me even if you wanted to,” you continued, his eyes fluttering shut like he could pretend you were really in the room with him, like you were really whispering all of this in his ear. “But I would want you to, Luke. I would wanna feel your hands in my hair, wanna see you take control.”

“I would,” he mumbled out, his hand slowly stroking himself over his sweatpants as he imagined it. As he imagined being sat on your couch, with you kneeling between his legs and your eyes glued on his reactions. It made his whole body feel hot and flustered.

“Yeah, baby? You’d take control? Fuck my mouth?”

He was almost embarrassed by the noise he let out.

“Are you touching yourself right now? Letting your imagination fill in the blanks?”

“Mhm,” he nodded.

“Good, baby, good. Keep touching yourself, keep making yourself feel good.”

“Wish it was you,” he managed to mutter out, his cock straining under the fabric of his boxers and sweatpants. However, any embarrassment or lingering awkwardness was long gone as he pushed them down to his knees, not even bothered to kick them off as he got his hand on himself.

“Yeah? Me too, baby. I wish I was with you now, could watch you squirm and beg f’me with your dick down my throat.”

“Fuck,” he hissed, squeezing the base of his cock as he tried to mimic the night of his birthday, to mimic the feeling of your hand on him instead. “That’s…vulgar.”

You laughed, and it shouldn’t have been so hot to him but it was. “Too much? You don’t want me to talk about how badly I wish that it was you touching me right now?”

“You’re touching yourself right now?” It was almost a wheeze, like the air had been knocked out of his lungs and it hadn’t even hit him until that moment that you were in the same position as him.

“Mhm,” you hummed, all sweet and high-pitched and it reminded him of the noise you made just before you came on his fingers. “If I was more patient, I would’ve got a toy. Would’ve felt way better.”

“Toy?” He rasped.

“Jealous?” You teased, unaware of the way Luke turned his head to the side, biting down on his pillow to hold back his groans as he continued to stroke himself. “I’ll show you when you’re back.”

“Show me on yourself?”

“I can use them on you too, pretty boy, if you could handle it.”

“I…could,” he muttered out, listening to the breathy, moany laugh on the other side of the phone.

“We’ll see,” you hummed. “Maybe I’ll send you a video for your next roadie. Keep you occupied while you’re away.”

“Nuh uh,” he bit out, shaking his head. “This. I like this. I like hearing your voice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeated, his stomach twisting as his thumb swiped over the head of his cock and rubbed the small bead of precum along his slit. “S’close.”

“Come f’me, wanna hear you come.”

It was a bit of a mindfuck if Luke was completely honest with himself. The pleasure running down his spine, leaving his body hot and heavy and just as good as it did when he was with you didn’t make sense to him. Listening to the little breathy moans and whines you let out when he came all over his hand, as he listened to you get yourself off shouldn’t have made his dick twitch so soon. He shouldn’t have been able to make himself come so hard just from some dirty talk from you, and yet he had.

Though, Luke didn’t have a lot of explanations when it came to the way you made him feel.

“You still there?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, his eyes still shut as he laid on the bed, practically melting into the sheets beneath him. “Kinda need that nap now.”

You snorted. “You should clean up before you fall asleep.”

“Five minutes,” he murmured out, a lazy smile on his face as your laugh echoed through the phone.

…

He was rushing to button up his shirt when his phone rang again.

He was already running late for the reservations Trevor made for dinner (if the constant stream of messages from Jack was telling him anything) and his nap lasted longer than he expected. But he couldn’t bite back his smile as he reached for his phone, his thumb already swiping to answer the call as he rummaged through his suitcase to find his cologne.

“You’re out of luck if you’re wanting to go for a round two,” Luke mused once the call had connected, an odd wave of confidence in his voice as he spoke.

“Round two of what?”

Luke froze, yanking his phone away from his ear to see Quinn’s name on his screen. He let out a muttered ‘what the fuck’ under his breath, an odd sense of deja vu from his phone call with Ethan washing over him before he quickly answered his eldest brother.

“Uh, nothing,” he laughed off, resisting the urge to yank on his own hair after he had spent the better part of the last fifteen minutes trying to make his curls look presentable. “Just some…exercise challenge thing Jack and I were trying out.”

“And you think he would call you about it? Aren’t you two together right now?”

“Yes. No!” Luke shook his head at himself. “No, he’s in Nico’s room right now.”

“I thought you were getting dinner with Trevor?”

“Right,” Luke laughed once again, awkward and strained. “We are. He just…had to tell Nico something first. You know Jack! Just…always attached to Nico’s hip.”

There was a moment of silence before Quinn spoke again. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel great, actually! Speaking of, I need to go so I’ll call you later. Okay, great, bye!”

He slammed the small red button until the call disconnected, throwing his phone down on his bed and letting out a long, deep sigh. He really needed to start looking at his phone before answering calls, it was getting a bit ridiculous.

Luke finished getting ready, shoving some shoes on and making his way towards the elevator as he began typing out a message before slipping his phone into his pocket, already preparing himself for Jack’s whining about how late he is by the time he reached the lobby.

hockey boy: remind me to give you a personalised ringtone when i’m back in jersey

#luke hughes #nhl #new jersey devils #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes x you #luke hughes x y/n #luke hughes fic #luke hughes one shot #luke hughes smut #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl x y/n #nhl fic #nhl one shot #nhl smut

881 notes · View notes

prompt-heaven · 11 months

Text

some reactions to a love confession

"..."

"...what?"

"What? Are you serious? Right now of all places, you really think it's the time to just blurt something like that out? You fucking-, urghh...."

"Wait, what?"

"...oh."

"Cut the bullshit, what do you really want? Because you should damn well know by now that kind of talk doesn't work on me."

"Excuse me?" *fucking clutching my pearls*

"Oh, no..."

"No, please don't. Please don't do this."

"Please stop saying that."

"Just don't."

slap them.

"I hate you."

"I hate you." (affectionately)

"No you don't. I know you may think you do, but you don't, not really."

"Okay."

"...okay..."

"Oh, okay.... uh.... look, I care about you too, so much, but just not like that. I'm really sorry."

"Alright. Tell me again when you finally mean it."

"Tell me again when we make it out of here alive."

"Ah, sure you do."

"I thought I was always just a friend in your eyes..."

"Since when?"

"I had no idea... why did you never tell me before?"

"I'm sorry, I can't... I want to, but I can't..."

just kiss them instead of finding the words.

kiss them as soon as they confess and thereby shut up whatever else they wanted to say.

"Took you long enough."

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"I love you more."

"Ditto."

"I know."

start tearing up.

start full on crying.

start crying happy tears.

start crying angry/confused/frustrated tears.

"Shut up."

"Shut up." (affectionately)

"Seriously?" (hello early seasons of grey's anatomy with all of the seriously's ♡)

"Say it again."

"Oh my god, it all makes so much sense now!"

start giggling uncontrollably.

start laughing uncontrollably.

goes nonverbal.

2K notes · View notes

janiehellion · 19 days

Text

Breaking Through

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Daryl’s reckless behavior on a supply run nearly gets him killed, pushing you to remind him how to stay humble. Little did you know, his attitude was hiding something much deeper that only you could break through.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: MOMMY KINK / SMUT / BODY WORSHIP / ORAL SEX / EDGING / TEASING / HURT / COMFORT / AFTERCARE / LANGUAGE

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.799

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: LATE S5 & EARLY S6

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇꜱᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ: @mayday2007

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: I truly hope I did your request justice! I also hope that the length of it is okay and that it met your expectations. And thank you so much for your patience!

MASTERLIST

You leaned against the porch, one of the few spots in Alexandria that didn’t make you want to rip your hair out. It all felt too damn clean sometimes, too fake even. Here, it was easy to forget how the world had gone to shit, but... Daryl? He never let himself forget. He was walking around by the gate, looking like an animal waiting for a fight, and you knew why...

Rick and a few others were getting ready for a run—another trip outside the safe walls to scavenge for supplies. But more than that, it was an excuse for Daryl to escape the suffocation of Alexandria. He’d rather be out there with the walkers than in here, playing pretend.

"Daryl," you called out, and he stopped pacing and turned to face you, his eyes narrowing like he was already preparing for a lecture from you.

"What?" He grunted, sounding as defensive as ever. He was always on alert these days, and it was only getting worse since you arrived in Alexandria.

"Listen," you started, stepping down from the porch and running toward him as he prepared to leave. "I know you hate this place, and I understand; I really do, but you need to keep your head on straight out there. You’re not just out there for yourself. You’ve got Rick, Glenn, and Michonne with you today. You fuck anything up; they could get hurt too. Please, just be careful."

He looked away, scuffing his boot against the ground like a stubborn child who didn’t want to hear what you were saying. "Ain’t no damn kid. Can handle myself," he growled back at you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. This wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. "You might be able to handle yourself, sure, and we all know that you are more than capable of doing that, but that doesn’t mean you can act reckless. You need to listen to Rick, do what he says, and stop acting like a damn brat. You keep pulling this shit, and one of these days, it’s gonna bite you in the ass. Literally."

Daryl clenched his jaw and scoffed, and for a moment, you thought he might actually argue with you. But then he just shook his head. "Yer done now?"

"No, Daryl, I’m not done," you snapped back, feeling your frustration grow and almost boil over. "I’m tired of watching you do this bullshit, okay? We’re all trying to make this work, and you’re out there acting like you’ve got a death wish. We’ve lost too many people already, and I’m not about to lose you or anyone else because you couldn’t keep your damn self in check."

For a second, you saw something like vulnerability, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He looked away again, like he was trying to block out your words, not wanting to listen to you.

"Just... think about what I said, okay?" You said, the tone in your voice softening slightly. You didn’t want to push him too hard, but you couldn’t just let this slide again all the time. "I’m not trying to piss you off, Daryl. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. We all need you to come back. I... I need you to come back."

He didn’t say anything; he just gave you a nod before finally turning away. But as you watched him walk toward Rick, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that something bad was going to happen on this run.

Rick was already waiting by the gate, his hands on his hips as he looked around Alexandria. He seemed to be tired, but when he saw you approaching as well, he gave you a small smile.

"Did you talk to him?" Rick asked, his voice whispering, so only you could hear.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing over at Daryl, who was busy playing around with his knife. "But you know how he is. Stubborn as hell."

Rick laughed a little, but there was no real humor in it. "Yeah. Isn't that the truth? Don’t worry, I'll keep an eye on him while we’re out there, alright? If he does something stupid..."

"You'll make sure he doesn’t," you interrupted, not needing him to finish the sentence.

"Alright. Got it. We’ll be back before you know it," Rick said, louder now and turning to the gate as it opened, and Glenn arrived with the car. "We’re heading out. Stay close, keep quiet, and don’t take any unnecessary risks. We get what we need, and we get back. That's it."

You watched as Daryl took his crossbow and walked with Rick and the others over to the truck. You were worried, sure, but you forced yourself to stay calm. This was Daryl Dixon, after all. He was tough, he was resourceful, and he’d been through far worse than this. But still, there was that uncomfortable feeling in the back of your mind, the one that told you things weren’t going to go smoothly today.

Rick took Daryl aside in the meantime. "Listen, Daryl. We stick to the plan, and we get back without any extra bullshit. You got that?"

Daryl glared at Rick but didn’t say anything. You knew that look; it was the one that said he was going to do what he wanted anyway.

With that, Rick and the others—Glenn and Michonne, in this case—headed out, leaving you in Alexandria with the rest of the group.

You turned away, heading back to the house, but your thoughts were still with Daryl. You just hoped he’d listen to you for once, or rather, Rick. Because if he didn’t, you weren’t sure you’d be able to forgive him—or yourself—if something went wrong.

The truck stopped at the side of a parking lot some time later. Abandoned cars were standing around all over the place, with their windows shattered and rotting corpses still sitting in some of them. It was a graveyard. Rick turned off the engine and looked over to the building, his face already showing that things were about to get rough.

"This place is full of walkers," Rick mumbled, looking around the area. "Okay… We get in, we get out. No fucking around. Got it?"

Everyone nodded, even Daryl, though the look in his eyes told a different story. Alexandria was killing him slowly, suffocating him with its safety and daily routine, and one could see he was just waiting to break free, to remind himself what it felt like to be out there again, in the real world, and not living in an illusion.

"Stick together," Rick continued, his eyes narrowing at Daryl like he could read his mind. "We’re hitting that grocery store, grabbing what we can, and getting the hell out. Nothing else, no bullshit."

Daryl grunted in response, his hand tightening around his crossbow. He wasn’t making any promises; that was clear enough, but at least he wasn’t outright showing it. That would have to be good enough. The four of them got out of the truck, their weapons ready, and slowly made their way toward the store. It looked like it had been raided a few times already, but Rick had heard from Aaron that a shipment had been left behind in the storage rooms—lots of canned food, water, and even medicine inside the small pharmacy of the store, locked up in the back, just waiting to be taken. Easy, if they played it safe.

Of course, playing it safe had not been Daryl’s way of doing it lately, not when his blood was boiling, and especially not since the prison, Terminus, and the other hell everyone went through. And especially not ever since Alexandria.

They went through the side entrance, which was once for the people that had worked there, the glass doors hanging off their hinges, and one could easily guess how most of the walkers got into the store in the first place, apart from those walkers that’ve died inside while scavenging. The inside of the store was pure chaos, with broken shelves, rotten food, and other empty products all across the floor. They moved quietly as Rick led the way, his Colt Python out and ready as always, Glenn close behind with his knife drawn, and Michonne with her sword, while Daryl was at the end, pointing his crossbow around as well. They soon made it to the back of the store, where the stockroom doors were, without drawing any attention so far.

"Alright," Rick whispered, motioning for the others to cover him. "Glenn and I will try to open the door. Michonne, watch our backs. Daryl, you—"

But before Rick could finish, Daryl was already moving. He didn’t like waiting, didn’t like standing around while others decided what to do, or having to wait for a plan. Without a word, he went off to the right, disappearing down one of the side aisles, his crossbow at the ready.

"Daryl!" Rick hissed, but there was no stopping him.

"Shit," Glenn grumbled in a bit of annoyance and panic, his eyes looking at Rick. "Where the hell is he going? What is he doing?"

Rick shook his head in frustration. "Just... just stay here," he ordered before walking after Daryl, cursing to himself with every step.

Daryl moved fast, his crossbow raised as he approached the loading dock at the back of the store from another side. He could hear the sounds of walkers moving behind the metal door, but this was exactly what he was looking for. He shoved the door open with a grunt, with the door making a noise that could be heard all throughout the whole store.

The walkers inside turned at the sound, and they immediately moved forward, their arms outstretched.

"C’mon, ya ugly bastards," Daryl mumbled, the first bolt killing the nearest walker in an instant. The walker fell to the ground, but the others kept coming.

He reloaded quickly, but just as he was about to fire again, a hand grabbed his shoulder, pulling him off balance. He hadn’t noticed the few other walkers, hidden in an open employee restroom nearby, their fingers grabbing his vest with their teeth only inches away from his face.

"Fuck!" Daryl growled, kicking the walker in front of him back and grabbing his knife. But he soon stumbled, falling down to the floor with the two of them on top of him. The impact knocked the knife from his hands, letting it slide across the floor, just out of reach, as he struggled to push the walkers off.

Then, just as the walkers’ teeth were about to bite into his flesh, several gunshots could be heard. Daryl gasped for breath, shoving the dead off him as he got to his feet, his heart racing while he looked over at Rick standing in the doorway with his Colt Python.

"You stupid son of a bitch," Rick said, lowering the gun. "What the hell were you even thinking?"

Daryl wiped the blood from his face, glaring at Rick but not saying a single word. He didn’t need to—he knew he’d fucked up, and Rick certainly knew it too.

But Rick didn’t wait for an explanation. "We need to hurry. Get your damn ass back to the truck. Now!"

For now, Daryl didn’t argue. He grabbed his crossbow and knife, putting it over his shoulder as he moved past Rick and over to Glenn and Michonne. He could feel Rick’s eyes on his back, judging him, and it took everything in him not to lash out. But he knew Rick was right. He’d been reckless, and it had nearly cost him his life. Not only that, but the supply run failed with the other walkers in the front of the store now moving toward the storage room.

Once outside, Daryl couldn’t ignore the thought that he’d fucked up more than just the run. He’d broken the trust, not just with Rick but with you. And he knew he’d have to face the consequences when he got back.

The sun was starting to set when you saw Rick and the others coming through the gate. You’d been waiting, walking around Alexandria, trying to distract yourself. But the deal had been clear—Rick would bring Daryl back in one piece and tell you every detail. But the moment you caught sight of Rick, you knew something had gone wrong. It was written all over his face, as was the fact that they had no supplies with them.

"Rick," you called out, running over to him.

He looked up at you, nodding and narrowing his eyes. You hated that look. It meant bad news, and you were tired of bad news.

"What happened?" You demanded as he walked next to you. "Where’s Daryl?"

"He’s fine," Rick said, holding up a hand to calm you down, though it didn’t do shit for your nerves. "I don't know where he is right now. Jumped right out of the truck. Physically, he’s okay. But, hell, it was close. Too close. Again."

Your stomach dropped at his words. This was getting out of hand. "What do you mean, 'close'?"

Rick rubbed the back of his neck, looking away for a moment. "We were in that store Aaron told us about, wanting to get the supplies. Daryl decided to go off on his own, like he always does lately. Didn’t wait for us as a backup, just did his own thing. Not even telling us that there was an easier way and that he has seen it. Next thing I know, he’s nearly got two walkers biting into his damn neck."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You asked, your hands balling into fists at your sides. "I told him—hell, we both told him so many times—not to pull that lone wolf bullshit anymore! And he still did it? I can’t fucking believe it!"

Rick nodded. "Yeah. Same old Daryl, too stubborn for his own good. I got there in time, but if I hadn’t... well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now."

You sucked in a breath, trying to calm the rage inside you. But it was hard—damn hard—when you pictured Daryl almost getting himself killed because he couldn’t follow simple instructions. "What the hell is wrong with him, Rick? Why does he keep doing this shit? Is Alexandria that bad for him? I mean, yeah, we all aren’t used to this... illusion, but hell, we’re at least trying to make the best of it! All of us!"

Rick sighed, leaning against the porch railing once you both arrived at the house. "I don’t think it’s only about Alexandria, not entirely. But yeah, it’s too controlled, too... fake. So he goes out there, trying to prove he’s still... still who he was out there. But it’s not like none of us tries the exact same thing. We all do. Or did."

You shook your head in frustration. "I get it; I do. But we can’t keep going on like this. He’s going to get himself killed—or worse, get someone else hurt. I’m fucking done sitting around, hoping he’ll pull his head out of his damn ass!"

Rick looked at you with a small smile. "By now I was thinking the same thing on the way back. We’ve tried to talk sense into him, but he isn’t listening. He’s too stubborn."

"That’s it," you finally said. "I’m handling this. If he won’t listen to you, maybe he’ll finally listen to me. But one way or another, this shit stops today, I swear."

Rick’s eyebrows moved up in surprise before he nodded slowly. "You sure? I don’t think you should push him into a corner."

You smirked, but it was more due to annoyance than amusement. "Oh, I’m sure. He’s going to learn today that there’s more than one way to get his damn ass in line. Trust me, Rick. Otherwise… Otherwise, I just don’t know what to do anymore."

Rick laughed a little and shook his head. "Alright then. Just don’t go too hard on him. And you must remember that it takes time. With… all of this."

You waved him off, already halfway down the steps of the porch. "He’ll be fine, Rick."

As you headed toward the garage, where you knew Daryl was probably working on his bike, your mind was already racing with what you were going to say. This wasn’t just about Daryl acting like a reckless asshole—this was about keeping him and the others alive, keeping him from throwing away everything you’d fought so hard for in this new world, with the rest of the group.

The moment you stepped into the garage, he barely looked your way, too focused on tightening a bolt that didn’t even need any more tightening. But you weren’t about to let him ignore you, not after what Rick had told you.

"Daryl," you started, but he only grunted in response, and that was about it—just a damn grunt, like he couldn’t be bothered to reply with words. And it pissed you off how he could be so nonchalant after nearly getting himself killed.

"Look at me," you snapped, stepping closer to him. "I said... Look at me, Dixon."

He paused, his hand stilling on the wrench, before finally looking into your eyes with a scoff.

"You think you can just go off on your own and do whatever the fuck you want? Well, guess what, Daryl? You almost got your damn throat ripped out today. And for what? Because you couldn’t listen? Because you’re too stubborn to accept that you’re part of a community now, and not some lone wolf out there in the woods with a group he helps out every now and then?" You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Ain’t like that," he mumbled, but it didn’t really sound like he was trying to defend himself.

"Bullshit!" You shot back, stepping even closer until you were right in his face, close enough to see the way his eyes widened slightly. "It’s exactly like that, and you know it. And for what? To prove something? To whom? You ain’t gotta prove anything to me, Daryl. And certainly not our group. But you do owe it to us to stop acting like a fucking idiot!"

He turned away from you, but you weren’t done yet. "This isn’t just about you anymore, Dixon. Every time you pull this shit, you put everyone at risk. Everyone! You get bit, we lose a member of this group. A member of our damn family! You die, and we all suffer! Do you even get that? Or are you that stuck with your own damn head up your ass that you can’t see that?"

"Ain’t need ya shittin’ on me," he growled, his voice quiet, but you caught something like guilt in it. "Can handle my ass."

"Clearly," you snapped at him with sarcasm. "Because you handled yourself so well today that Rick had to pull your ass out of a walker’s mouth. Real smooth, Daryl! Real fucking smooth!"

He flinched at that, his eyes narrowing as he turned back to face you. "Ain’t like I needed any damn help."

You didn’t back down, though. You were way past that. "And that’s the problem, Daryl. You think that you don’t need anyone. But guess what? You do. You need us, and we need you. So stop acting like an asshole and start thinking about what you’re doing to everyone else."

For a second, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he just looked at you—really looked at you—like he was trying to figure something out. "Why ya care s’ much?" He finally asked.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "Because I give a shit, you damn idiot. Because I... care about you more than anyone else here even knows, and I’m not about to watch you throw your life away over some macho bullshit, or whatever you’re trying to act like. You think I want to lose you? You think any of us do?"

He stared at you. "Ain’t tryna make shit harder," he muttered, looking down at the ground, shrugging his shoulders. "Jus’... can’t stand it ‘ere sometimes. Ain’t me ‘round ‘ere."

"Who you are isn’t some reckless idiot who doesn’t give a damn about anyone else. Who you are is someone who’s saved more lives than you can count, someone who’s part of a family now. And yeah, maybe it’s different here and maybe it’s hard, but that doesn’t give you the right to check out whenever you feel like it, as if this community is a fucking hotel!"

He didn’t say anything; he just kept looking at you with those blue, searching eyes, like he was waiting for you to give him something—some kind of direction.

You took a deep breath. "Daryl, you need to stop this shit. You need to stop before you get yourself killed. And if you won’t listen to Rick, then you’ll damn well listen to me. Got it?"

"Yeah," he said, almost whispering. "Got it."

"Good," you said. "Because this stops now. You’re done running off, done putting yourself at risk for no damn reason. From now on, you listen, just like before. We’re all a big team, Daryl, and we still are despite everything. Understand?"

"Yeah… Do ya still lo—" He started but stopped himself from speaking any further. "Are ya mad?"

"What? No, I’m not mad," you answered, stepping back to leave, wanting to give him some space. "But I’m hurt and disappointed."

Daryl sat there for a long time after you left. He gritted his teeth, and his fists were clenched, but it wasn’t anger. It was guilt. Shame even. All he knew was that he’d fucked up.

"Stupid, stupid fuckin’ idiot," he mumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair while he could still hear your voice in his head. "Fuckin’ piece o' shit. Can’t even keep yer damn head straight."

He felt like a fool, like a stubborn kid who’d just been put in his place. But it wasn’t just the anger that stuck with him—it was the look in your eyes, the pain and fear of what could’ve happened to him.

"Gotta make this right," he grumbled, now walking around the garage. "Ain’t gonna let her think I’m some reckless asshole who don’t care ‘bout nothin’." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She’s right… Been actin’ like a damn idiot. But… shit, need t’ prove I ain’t just some fuckup."

He knew you’d left him alone on purpose, letting him think about it, just like you’ve done several times before. But this time, he wasn’t going to sit here and wait for you to come back. He had a plan—a rather half-baked plan, but it was all he had. He needed to show you how much you meant to him and how much he needed you.

"Fuck, she’s gonna kill me," he sighed, shaking his head as he made his way out of the garage. And he knew exactly where and in what house he was going to find you.

You were already half asleep, lying on the floor on a mattress, when you felt someone being there—before you even opened your eyes. It was Daryl, of course, kneeling over you as he carefully pulled the sheets back.

"What the hell are you doing, Dixon?" You mumbled, still groggy. "Leave me alone."

He didn’t answer right away; he just pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another, moving down your arm, his lips barely touching your skin. It was slow on purpose, like he was trying to worship every inch of you to make up for all the stupid shit he’d done. And it was working, even if it pissed you off that he thought he could just... seduce his way out of this.

"Daryl," you warned, but your voice was weak due to the way his strong, big hands were now sliding down your sides to your waist.

"‘M sorry," he whispered, before he kissed the sensitive spot on your neck. "Fucked it up, I know that. But need ya to know... I ain’t a fool. I need ya, more than ya fuckin’ know."

You wanted to stay mad, to shove him away from you and tell him to get his shit together, but his touch—God, it was like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he was taking away your anger with every kiss and every touch of his hands. And when he put his head lower, kissing along your ribs after he pulled up your shirt, you felt almost frustrated.

"Daryl," you breathed out as a warning again, but he didn’t stop. He slid his hands further up your shirt, pulling it over your head as he kissed down your ribs, his fingers grabbing your body like he was trying to show you that he was still alive.

"Need ya," he mumbled against your skin, his voice sounding almost desperate. "Need ya t’ know I ain’t takin’ this for granted."

"Daryl, stop…" You started, but your words were cut off by a gasp as he found that spot just above your waist, his lips kissing you harder, and his teeth softly biting your skin. You felt a shiver run through you, and hell, you hated how much you wanted this, how much you wanted him to keep going.

"I’ll stop if ya want me to, I swear," he whispered, but he didn’t stop, not really. His hands slid down, undoing your pants and wanting to slide them down, which made you stop breathing for a moment.

You were looking at him, your eyes narrowing. "You think you can just—" You started, but then he shut you up—kissing you hard and long, cutting off your words. And fuck, if it didn’t make your whole body shiver with need.

"Can’t help it," he muttered against your lips, his voice a little shaky, like he was losing control. "Can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout ya, ‘bout how much I need ya."

"You think this makes up for what you did? For your reckless behavior?" You asked, shaking your head slightly.

"Nah," he admitted. "Gotta show ya somehow. Gotta show ya how much I fuckin’ care."

You grabbed his wrists, pulling his hands away from your pants, even though you were already aching for him. "You don’t get to touch me like that," you said. "Not until I say so."

He swallowed hard, his breath stopping as he nodded, his eyes wide. "Please," he whispered, looking up at you and waiting for permission.

"Please what?" You demanded, tightening your grip on his wrists. "You think you can just come in here and expect me to forgive you? After everything?"

"Nah," he stammered, his eyes looking down to the floor again. "But… I need ya. I need ya t’ see that I can make it right."

"You wanna make it right, Daryl?" You asked again. "Then you’re gonna do exactly what I say, like I said."

"Yeah," he answered, his body almost trembling with the need to make you forgive him. "I’ll do whatever ya want."

You let go of his wrists, letting them fall back to his sides. "Take off your clothes," you ordered, the tone in your voice leaving no room for argument.

He hesitated for just a second, but then he started to stand up and get out of his clothes, his hands shaking as he got out of his shirt, then his pants, and the rest, until he was standing there, naked and vulnerable before you.

"Now get back on your knees," you demanded, watching as his eyes widened.

He dropped to his knees, waiting for your next command. And fuck, if that didn’t send a rush of power straight through you.

You stood over him, your hand reaching out to grab his hair, pulling his head back so he was forced to look up at you. "Look at me."

And he did. He slowly looked up in shame.

"You don’t get to play the lone wolf out there," you continued, stepping closer, your hand grabbing his chin, moving his head up further. "Not anymore. You almost got yourself killed."

"I know," he muttered. "‘M sorry..."

He wanted—no, he needed—to show you how he felt about his mistakes, and he was ready to do it on his knees if that’s what you demanded.

You let go of him, letting him fall forward, as you lay back down onto the mattress. "Show me," you simply said.

And he did—God, he did... He kissed every inch of you, his lips moving lower, his hands gripping your hips like he was afraid you might disappear, and he held onto you like you were the only person able to keep him safe.

He didn’t need to be told twice—he knew what he had to do to make things right.

You leaned back on the mattress, spreading your legs just enough to invite him closer, and watched his hands shake a little as they slid up your thighs.

"Yes," he whispered quietly. He was trying to be tough, but you could see through it. The man was already lost in you, in the need to make you feel good to make up for his earlier bullshit.

No, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; the way he now nearly ripped off the rest of your clothes was almost urgent.

"Goddamn," he whispered, his eyes wide and hungry as he took in the sight of you. "So fuckin’ beautiful."

His hands were trembling as he reached for your bra, fumbling with it before finally getting it off. He slid it off your shoulders, throwing it over to your pants on the floor, his eyes never leaving your breasts.

Daryl’s mouth went dry as he leaned in, his lips stopping just above one nipple. "Can’t believe yer lettin’ me touch ya like this," he whispered, more to himself than to you. Then he closed his mouth around your nipple, his tongue moving over it, making you gasp.

He sucked and licked, using his teeth just a little, sliding them lightly against it, while his other hand was pinching and rolling the other.

"Fuck, Daryl," you groaned, your hands moving through his hair, holding him close as he worshiped your breasts like they were the most important things in the world. "Don’t stop."

He growled against your skin and kept going; he kept sucking, licking, and teasing until your nipples were swollen and hard, sensitive to every little touch.

He soon pulled back, a line of spit connecting his mouth to your nipple before it broke, and he greedily licked over it once more. His eyes were full with need, his breathing heavy as he looked up at you, like he was waiting for permission to keep going.

"You’re going to be a good boy and keep worshipping me?" You asked, your voice teasing and commanding him at the same time.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Please… Need t’…"

"Then do it," you ordered, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

Daryl’s hands moved lower, sliding down your sides, moving along your hips before coming to a stop between your legs. His fingers brushed against your pussy, finding you already wet and wanting, and he let out a growl.

He started slowly, almost with hesitation, like he was worshipping at some holy altar. His lips brushed over the inside of your thighs, soft at first, but when you grabbed his hair again, he got the message. His mouth found your pussy the moment he ripped off your panties, and it was as if a switch flipped.

Daryl buried his face between your legs, his tongue working desperately, like he couldn’t get enough of you. You let out a moan, your hand tightening in his hair, guiding him but also keeping him under your control.

"Fuck, Daryl," you breathed out. "Just like that."

And he couldn’t stop, even if he wanted to. Every part of him was focused on you—on the taste of you, the way you trembled when he hit just the right spot. He was completely at your mercy, with the need to prove himself to make you proud.

You could feel him moan against you and how he was getting lost in it, in you. You knew he was desperate for more, desperate for any sign that he was doing good and that you’d forgive him. But you weren’t about to make it easy for him. Not yet, at least.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to get him away from you, and he looked up at you, his lips wet and parted, already missing the taste of you. "Please," he growled out, and you could see the need to do more, to have more of you.

"You keep listening to me. You understand?" You asked, caressing his head gently.

"Yeah," he stammered and nodded in return.

You pushed his head back down, with his tongue slipping inside your pussy almost immediately, like he was trying to eat out every bit of forgiveness he could get.

And fuck, did it feel good. The way he was eating out your pussy, every little move of his tongue, the way he sucked on your clit just hard enough to make you see stars—it was like he was made for this, made to worship you.

"Fuck, don’… don’ make me stop," he growled out in between. He was trembling now, hands still gripping your hips tightly, his eyes wide with something that seemed close to panic, like he couldn’t stand being away from you for even a second.

But you leaned down, grabbing his chin, forcing him to look at you. "You want to make this right? You wait until I’m ready."

He nodded quickly, swallowing hard, his eyes pleading without a word and barely holding it together. He was ready to do anything you asked, to wait as long as you wanted him to, just for a chance to taste you again.

"Good boy," you moaned, suddenly pulling him up to kiss you, tasting yourself on his lips. He kissed you like he was starved for it, holding on for dear life.

And you could feel how hard he was—the desperate twitching of his already leaking cock against your thigh—but you weren’t done teasing him yet. "You’re doing so good, Daryl. Go on now."

"Yes, mommy," he whimpered, the word coming out of his mouth before he could even stop it.

"What did you just call me?" You asked in shock and froze.

Daryl’s eyes widened in shock and panic. "Didn’t mean t’ say that," he said, his voice trembling. "I jus’—"

"Say it again," you commanded, cutting him off. "Say it."

He swallowed hard, his eyes looking around as if searching for an escape, but he knew he couldn’t hide from you. "Yes, mommy," he whispered quietly, a shiver running through him as he said the word again.

But you didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to the floor. "Good boy," you simply answered. "Go on…"

He didn’t hesitate, his hands following the curves of your body again, his lips following close behind. He kissed down your neck, in between your breasts, along your stomach as he moved lower, his hands soon enough sliding up your thighs and over your pussy.

"Shit," he mumbled, his eyes widening as he realized just how ready you were for him. "Yer so fuckin’ wet."

He didn’t say anything else, too focused on what he was doing. His fingers moved through your wet folds, teasing you until you were trembling with need, and he circled your clit with his thumb slowly on purpose, watching your face for every little reaction.

And one moan—that was all he needed. He leaned in, his mouth replacing his fingers, his tongue sliding over your clit, licking and sucking it gently all over. He didn’t rush, didn’t hurry, and took his time.

"Fuck, Daryl," you moaned, your fingers gripping his hair, holding him in place as he devoured you. "That’s it… don’t stop."

He didn’t need to be told twice. He kept going, kept licking, sucking, and teasing until you were right on the edge and close to coming.

The control he was giving you made you feel powerful, and hell, if that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever experienced.

"Please, mommy," he begged. "Lemme make ya cum now."

"Keep going," you commanded, feeling yourself getting closer due to his words. "Don’t stop. Oh, fuck…"

He obeyed, and when you finally came, you gasped and moaned, your body arching and trembling under the force of it. But as soon as you began to come down from your orgasm, you noticed how he started to get more aggressive, his hands gripping your hips harder. He pulled back slightly, his eyes burning into yours as he moved back up.

"Wanna fuck ya," he growled almost primal, grabbing his cock and pushing it against your pussy.

But you shoved him back. "Not so fast," you said. "You’re going to do it my way."

He looked at you with frustration and desperation. "But… I need ya," he said, his voice cracking a little bit. "Please!"

You didn’t give in. Instead, you watched as he tried to hold himself back. "If you want more, you’re going to have to do it my way, Daryl. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Yeah, ‘kay," he murmured and nodded, his voice trembling.

"Not yet," you said, wrapping your hand around his shaft. The hardness of his cock was pulsing against your hand, and you enjoyed the power it gave you. "You’re going to wait a little longer."

Daryl’s breath hitched, his fingers digging into the mattress as he tried to control himself. "Please," he begged, his voice raw and desperate. "Need it."

You only smiled, slowly stroking him, your movements maddeningly slow. "You want more?" You teased, leaning closer to him. "You want me to keep going? To make you cum already as well?"

He nodded quickly. "Yes! Please, mommy. Can’t take it no more!"

You took your time, each move up and down his shaft, making him moan and writhe.

"Fuck, don’ stop," he groaned. "Please, I can’t—"

"Hush now," you interrupted, squeezing his cock. "You’re going to wait until I say so. If you want to be a good boy, you’ll follow my instructions."

Daryl’s cock was coated in his pre-cum and throbbing in your hand, and every time you squeezed just a little harder, he would shiver, his voice breaking into pleas and whimpers.

"Please… ‘M so close," he whimpered. "Can’t hold back much longer."

You looked down at him, smirking, and then you jerked him faster and harder, bringing him right to the edge. His body was tense and almost painfully trying to hold off his orgasm.

"Daryl," you said softly, your hand driving him mad. "I want you to beg for it. Just a little bit more."

His pleas turned into desperate murmurs as he struggled with himself. "Please… Need t’… Jus’ let me... Oh fuck!"

With a final pump, you brought him right to the very edge again, feeling his cock throbbing against your palm. Then, just when you could see he was about to break, you pulled back, stopping altogether.

Daryl let out a whimper, his eyes desperate. "Fuck, please… Need it."

You leaned in close, kissing his neck. "Not yet. I want you to really feel it, to know how much you need me."

"Please," he begged again. "Please..."

"Tell me how much you need it," you smiled at him.

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking as he spoke. "Need it so bad, mommy, please... Need t’ cum for ya. Need ya..."

You gave him one final, hard stroke, and then you stopped again, making him groan and tremble over you, the muscles in his arms tensing up painfully hard. "Good boy," you whispered, finally giving him permission to slide into your pussy, just not all the way.

"No further," you said. "Just the tip. Hold it back."

He groaned, his hands gripping the sheets next to you on the mattress. "Please," he begged, his voice breaking. "Lemme fuck ya..."

You ignored his pleas, your hand still pumping up and down his shaft. "Say it," you commanded. "Say you’re my good boy, Daryl."

"‘M yer good boy," he mumbled, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

Finally, when you could see the look on his face—the way he was practically begging to come—you leaned in. "You want it now?"

"Yeah," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please, mommy..."

His cock was pulsing, the tip pressing into you just enough to make him groan but not enough to give him what he wanted.

You watched as a sudden tear rolled down his cheek—a single, small, and tiny drop. The sight of it—so rare for someone like Daryl—made you widen your eyes. You could see the complete surrender—the way he was completely at your mercy.

Without warning, you pushed against him, taking him all the way in, and made him cry out, his body shuddering as he filled you up and feeling your pussy stretch around his cock. The look of shock and ecstasy on his face was too much, even for you. His eyes widened, his lips parting slightly, and his cock was pulsing inside you, his body trembling uncontrollably.

"Fuck! Fuck…"

And the moment you took him in fully, he came hard inside of you with a loud groan, his body trying to push in as deep as possible as he reached his orgasm, while you held him close, feeling the last of his cum filling you up as he finished.

You soon lay there, your body still tingling, but Daryl, on the other hand, was a mess after he quickly pulled out of you. Now his walls were coming back up, and he was doing his best to act like he didn’t need a damn thing from you.

He was trying to play it cool, turning his face away, still shaking a little bit. "Jus’… gotta go," he mumbled, trying to shove you away. "Don’ need ya all up in m’ shit now."

"Oh, come on. You can’t be serious," you smirked, running a finger teasingly down his chest.

He glared at you, trying to push you away once more. "‘M fine. Jus’ leave me ‘lone," he grumbled.

"Look at you, all tough and cold again. But you were begging for it only a minute ago." You let your hand move over his skin, feeling his muscles twitch. "And now you’re just going to be an ass about it? Not a chance."

He froze as you touched him. "Shut up," he snapped. "Don’t need yer damn pity."

You rolled your eyes, leaning in close. "Pity? This isn’t pity, Daryl."

He tried to pull away again, but you held him close, your hands moving up to his chin. You tilted his head so he had no choice but to look at you.

"Seriously?" You said with a smile. "You’re going to act like a brat now? After everything?" You moved closer, teasing him with a kiss on his lips.

Daryl’s breath stopped for a second, and you felt him shudder under your touch. "Fuck off," he muttered, but it was sounding rather weak, almost as if he was trying to convince himself more than you.

You laughed, cupping his chin more firmly. "Make me. Or... maybe you really are just a brat who needs to be put in his place all over again."

He shivered as he fought with himself. "No… Don’ need this," he mumbled, but it was clear he was losing the battle against himself. His voice was getting quieter, and he knew that he was failing miserably.

Then, you finally met his lips with yours. It was a slow, gentle kiss, with you wanting to give him reassurance. He moaned against them, the sound full of desperation.

When you pulled back, you saw how his eyes were wide, and he suddenly nuzzled up against you, his face buried in your neck, his body trembling as if he was trying to hold onto whatever was left of his defenses.

"‘M so sorry," he murmured against your skin, his voice breaking. "Didn’ mean t’... I jus’—"

You ran your fingers through his hair, cuddling him closer as he clung to you. "Quiet," you whispered, putting your lips against his forehead. "It’s okay."

He wrapped his arms around you, his grip a little rough as if he was afraid you might slip away. "I fucked up," he said. "Almos’ got m’self killed an’ hurt ya. ‘M so damn sorry."

You held him close, his body pressed against yours. "I know," you said softly. "But you’re still alive, Daryl."

But the moment of calm was ruined when Daryl’s body tensed up again, with him starting to sob violently.

"Shit," he choked out, tears rolling down his cheeks. "‘M such a fuckin’ asshole. Messed everythin’ up. Could’ve died an’—"

You shushed him, holding him even tighter, pressing kisses to his temples. You didn’t say much, letting your actions speak louder than any words even could.

He kept mumbling apologies, his sobs so intense that they shook his whole body. "Ain’t good ‘nough. ‘M worthless. Jus’ a useless piece o’ shit," he sobbed further, his voice cracking.

You gently cupped his face again, lifting it so you could look into his wet eyes. Slowly, you wiped the tears away with your thumbs, kissing his cheeks where the tears had been rolling down.

"Hush," you whispered softly. "You’re not a useless piece of shit. You’re not worthless. You made a mistake, but you’re here, and you’re alive. That’s what matters."

He needed to hear that you weren’t disappointed and that you still loved him despite everything.

Daryl looked up at you, his eyes all red and swollen, but his sobbing began to calm down. And as he finally started to relax, his grip on you softened, but he didn’t let go. He was still clinging to you, needing you to remind him that he was loved and that he was enough.

"Thanks," he whispered quietly. "For… everythin’."

You smiled to yourself, playing with his hair. "Anytime," you murmured, pressing another soft kiss to the top of his head.

You didn’t need to say anything more; your arms around him were enough to help him find his way back to feeling okay. The walls he’d built were finally down, and for now, he was just Daryl—raw and in need of someone to help him piece himself back together.

TAG-LIST: @itwasntaphasema

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maryangelex · 1 year

Text

Let Them Know Who You Belong To

Simon “Ghost” Riley x f! Reader

Summary: You and Ghost had been having a secret situationship for a couple of months now. Lately, though, he had grown possessive over you, getting jealous at any interaction you had with the other soldiers in the base. And it was time he taught you a lesson about who you belonged to.

Warning: nsfw, jealous! simon riley, possessive! simon riley, unprotected sex, p in v sex, shower sex, established relationship, praise kink, dom! simon riley, bratty! reader, claiming, rough sex, smut with little plot, degradation kink, manhandling, not proofread

A/N: so that price fanfic did pretty damn well ;) and I thought I’d try my hand again at writing a smutty fic for simon cus I’m down bad for him. Promise this one will be shorter… hopefully… enjoy!!!

For the last couple of months, you and Ghost had been exclusively fucking each other. Ever since you gathered the courage to fess up your little crush and horny fantasies to him, he’d been kindly fucking your brains out every time you asked (sometimes you didn’t even have to).

But of course, a man like Ghost wouldn’t settle down for anyone, certainly not you; he wasn’t your boyfriend, he was just someone that thoroughly enjoyed using you like his personal whore. The two of you had set that boundary very early on and it had been working out since for both.

Which is precisely why Ghost was conflicted about his current feelings as he watched you swoon with one of the men in the base. He watched you from a safe distance, watched as you were cornered against the wall by some guy way below your league, he thought. You were too fine a woman to stand there listening to some average guy’s rambling. Still he watched you giggle at whatever he was saying, batting your eyelashes at him, nudging his arm when he made you laugh.

As he watched you his stomach recoiled, his gloved fist clenched and jaw gritted under his mask. What the fuck could this daft bastard be saying that’s making you laugh so hard?

You caught a glimpse of Ghost in the opposite end of the hallway, leaning against the wall with his eyes burning a hole through you. You looked at him through your peripheral vision, shooting him a devilish smirk because you knew it was getting under his skin that you were entertaining another bloke. Truth be told, you weren’t even listening to what this guy was saying; a lot of words and a whole lot of nothing. Regardless, you made a performance for him, laughing and touching the man’s muscled arm as if he was the most riveting man you had come across, all because you loved seeing Ghost’s panties get in a twist. You loved it when he became possessive of you, when he’d get all worked up and reminded you that you were exclusively, his despite there being nothing between the two of you except amazing sex.

He pushed himself off the wall, mumbling curses to himself as he turned away and left. He knew your smirk was directed at him, knew you were riling him up on purpose because he fucked you so good when you made him angry. What a slut you were.

Later that day, you waited for everyone else to hit the showers before you did. You liked having the whole communal space to yourself, so you were always last to take your time and enjoy the privacy. You hadn’t seen Ghost the whole day after that little performance. He must be sulking somewhere and waiting for you to come to him. But you decided you’d let it simmer, leave it for the next day.

You turned on the shower, letting it warm up as you stripped naked and stepped in once it was at a comfortable temperature. You saturated your body and hair, closing your eyes as the water ran down your head and face, enjoying the sensation of it, your tense muscles relaxing. You were blissfully unaware of your surroundings, unwinding from a long day of bullshit from your superiors.

Ghost had spent the whole day scheming about how he’d get back at you for your little antics. He knew your nightly routine of being the very last one to shower. So, he waited for you to enter the shower and he followed close behind you. He snuck inside the shower room, stealthily creeping in without you having a clue. As he faced the shower curtain, he stepped out of his boots, stripping silently and creeping on you covering your naked body in soap suds.

You were facing the shower, eyes still closed, running your soapy washcloth along your body mindlessly. Suddenly, you heard the sound of the shower curtain being ripped open, the sound of metal rings clanking on the bar and rustled plastic. You jumped, shooting your eyes open and looking behind you to find Ghost there.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Ghost!” You scolded, keeping a whisper to not alert anyone outside the shower room.

He was standing there naked with the exception of his mask still on but rolled up to his nose. His eyes matched the scowl plastered on his lips; he was proper pissed.

“What, did you think I’d let you get away with that little show you put on for me today?” He growled, stepping into the shower with you.

“Wha— Simon, you’re not supposed to be here!” You ignored his question, genuinely concerned about his intrusion and the possibility of someone coming in. You knew he’d show up to put you in your place but didn’t anticipate it to be at a place like this.

“I asked you a question,” he insisted, grabbing your waist and turning you around to face him. He held your body close to his with a hand wrapped around your waist; you could feel his cock pressed stiff against your abdomen.

You gulped, looking up into his deep brown eyes; they were dark with anger and lust, couldn’t tell which it was more of. You looked at him like a deer in headlights.

“Answer me,” he said through gritted teeth, his grip on your waist tightening. His other hand flew to grasp your jaw, holding it tightly not letting you even try to look away from him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, looking at him with a smug expression, a twinge of a smirk curling at the corners of your mouth. He murmured a curse as his grip on your jaw slid down to your neck, holding it firmly.

“Don’t play with me, sweetheart. You know what you did wrong today… and you know the consequences of fuckin’ with me”

In a swift movement, he spun you around, making you face the wall again. You caught yourself from falling by holding your arms out against the wall. You felt one of his hands on your abdomen, keeping you pressed against his body, ass flush with his cock. The other hand entwined in the crown of your head, grasping and pulling your wet hair.

The way he held you drew a whimper from your lips. Your head fell back as he pulled your hair, and you felt his lips against your ear, his hot breath on your skin.

“You enjoy me punishing you, huh, you little slut?” He whispered, his words like poison seething out of his lips.

You responded with just another whimper. “Y-yes” was all you could muster.

“Yes, what? Address your superiors, soldier”

“Yes, sir”

You heard a pleased sound rumble in his throat, then felt his breath on your neck followed by the sensation of his teeth nipping at the tender skin on your neck, making you yelp.

“S-Simon…” You pleaded.

The hand that wasn’t gripping your hair migrated behind you, his palm colliding loudly against your ass, making you jump and whimper at the burning sensation of Ghost’s large hand smacking your asscheek red.

“That’s ‘sir’ to you, sweetheart,” he said, his hand on your ass squeezing and soothing the sensitive flesh.

“ ‘m gonna teach you how to behave, how to be a good girl for me…and everyone in this base is gonna hear it, understood?”

Your face turned bright red and hot. You nodded as best as you could with Ghost’s unrelenting grip on your hair still. “That’s my good slut,” he whispered.

Ghost released your hair, both of his hands sliding to the front of your torso. The two calloused hands moved to squeeze your breasts possessively. His mouth was on the crook of your neck, giving the skin a primal bite, then soothing it with a few tender kisses. You moaned at the sensation.

His fingers toyed with your nipples, pinching them and pulling them up, both simultaneously in synchronicity. He alternated between doing so and massaging the soft sacks. You turned to face him, to try and manage to kiss him. But he pulled away, the clasps on your nipples stilling as he tugged them in a punishing manner. You winced in pleasure.

“Uh-uh, you don’t deserve that,” he mocked you.

Ghost moved his hands up to your shoulders, pushing your torso forward. If it hadn’t been for your hands on the wall you would’ve face planted the tile in front of you with the force of his movements. Now your back was arched, torso leaned forward, and ass presented for him.

He caressed his hands down your back, the gesture felt condescending given how he was treating you. They stopped at your ass cheeks, squeezing them once more. Then, you felt the sting of his hand striking the right one, then the left one. He did that a couple more times, alternating between the two cheeks. You moaned and winced at the mix of pain and pleasure.

“S-sir, please,” you began.

“Please, what? Use your words.

“Just fuck me already, please!”

“Fuck you? I said I’d punish you, love. Good girls get fucked; dirty sluts like you get punished”

As he squeezed your ass he spread both of your cheeks, revealing your slick cunt to him.

“Look at you, your pussy’s glistening f’me. You like me treatin’ you like this, huh?” He chuckled maliciously. You felt two of his thick fingers run up and down the folds of your cunt; you moaned in response.

Ghost slid the two digits inside of you at a painfully slow pace. “Fuckkk, you swallowed them whole, sweetheart, this pussy’s so desperate to be fucked. Too bad ‘m gonna take my sweet time torturing you”

You let out a moan at the intrusion inside of you, then at the feeling of his fingers sliding in and out oh so slowly. It was driving you crazy, you just wanted him to ram them into you quick and replace them with his cock already.

“Please, sir, I’ll be good I promise, please just move faster” you sobbed.

“I don’t take orders from you, love” his fingers curled inside your walls, making you jolt at the tight feeling. His other hand kneaded at your ass while he stroked his fingers in an out of you, pace not picking up, and curling them up deep inside of you.

His cock was throbbing at the sight of his fingers entering and exiting you, at how good you looked begging for him to fuck you with your cheeks spread for him like this.

He pumped his fingers in and out, pulling moans out of you. You kept yourself still trying not to push your ass back to fuck yourself on his fingers. You tried your best to be a good girl for him like he ordered; you were just so obedient.

“See? You can be such a good girl for me. Good job princess,” he praised you, “you earned yourself this…”

Ghost reached his other hand around you, settling it between your legs at the front of your pussy, using his index and middle finger to circle your swollen clit. Now he was picking up the pace of the fingers fucking you as well as the two rubbing your sensitive bud. You basked in the feeling, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you let out a breathless moan.

Your legs spread apart to allow him more access to toy your pussy. Your eyes closed as you relished the way he rewarded you.

“Th-thank you, sir” you moaned.

Ghost chuckled “You like that, baby? You like me rewarding you? See how good I can make my girl feel?”

His girl, you thought. You were his girl, you belonged to him. He knew the right ways to touch you, knew his way around your body; how to please you, how to torture you. You bit your lip at the thought and responded with a hum.

He fucked you with his fingers and played with your clit some more, feeling your walls clench around him, indicating that you were close to cumming.

You were a mess of moans and whimpers at this point, mouth agape, letting them fall out of it. Your eyes in the back of your skull and your head thrown back, back arched to the limit. You felt his fingers twist and curl into your pussy, drilling into you, his speed had picked up significantly; that mixed with the pressure on your throbbing clit sent you over the edge.

And soon enough, you were releasing choked out moans, pussy spasming around his fingers as you were getting ready to cum. A wave of pleasure was surging in you and you were eager to let it wash over you.

But Ghost had other plans, so he took his hands away from you, now gripping your hips. You practically sobbed.

“N-no, no, no, Simon— sir, please! Please, please, let me cum I’m so close, please!” You were crying at this point, looking back at Ghost with pleading eyes. You met his face that wore an evil smirk, his eyes dark with malice.

“That’s a good fucking girl. You’re so pretty when you beg for me to let you cum.” He chuckled, his hands massaging your hips, holding them tightly.

“You’re not gonna cum until I do, lovie” he said, aligning the painfully swollen head of his cock with your desperate cunt. He relentlessly slammed his cock inside of you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure. He was so rough but you were yearning to be filled by his massive member. He let out a primal groan when he felt your warm walls clasp his dick inside of you.

“ ‘m gonna fuck you senseless now, alright? That fucker you were giggling with would never fuck you this good, would he, princess?”

“No! Never, never like you, sir! No one’s as good as you!” You moaned, your walls clenched around his motionless cock to give yourself some relief. Then, you felt Ghost slowly pull out entirely, before ramming his dick back inside of you, making you cry out.

He pounded into you, slowly but firmly and deep. His grip on your hips was bruising as he slammed himself inside of you. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin was louder than the sound of the water hitting the tiles. You moaned consumed by euphoria.

Ghost held your hip with one hand while the other slithered to the back of your neck, holding it to make himself slam into you impossibly deeper and harsher. Your tender ass cheeks were growing redder from his skin slapping against them. His pace was quick and rough, groans and curses falling from his lips.

“You’re fuckin’ mine, ya hear me? My girl, my pussy to fuck. This cunt belongs to me…only for my cock”

You responded with a string of moans and yeses, too cockdrunk and out of it to say any proper responses. Your climax was creeping up on you once again; the wave rising.

Then, you felt Ghost maneuver your body, twisting your torso slightly to the side, and lifting one of your legs by your thigh. You were now almost on your side, the leg in his grasp opening your cunt better for him, and you were standing on your other leg with some leverage from your arm on the wall. If it wasn’t for Ghost holding most of your bodyweight, you would’ve toppled over.

This new angle made him penetrate you deeper, opening yourself up for him. And now you could see behind you, him standing there thrusting deeply into you, huffing like an animal as he fucked you silly.

He was a sight to behold; muscles coated in water and sweat, glistening with droplets of water running down his body, his lips parted and juicy, practically drooling for you, and his eyes devoured you.

“There’s my girl, that face is so fuckin’ pretty,” he said as he thrust into you quickly and deeply

“Love how deep I am in your pussy…gonna make me cum soon… ‘m gonna cum in your pussy so you know it’s mine.”

“Gh-Ghost, ahh, I wanna cum, please” you moaned, tears running down your face.

“Cum for me, baby, you have permission. Say my fucking name, make sure everyone hears you.” He said breathlessly, possessively, with a hint of sweetness. “Make sure everyone knows who fucks you this good, who you belong to.”

And that you did. You moaned “Simon” loudly, practically screaming his name. You repeated it over and over like a chant as you came undone on his cock. You clenched around him, legs shaking as you came and sobbed out his name. Your body went limp as Ghost held you, fucking you and using you to attain his own climax.

His hips shook, thrusts faltering as he released hot, sticky ropes of cum that pooled within you. You moaned in unison as you felt him flood your pussy. He cursed under his breath, his thighs shaking as he came down from his high.

He held your tired body and accommodated you, helping you stand. You both panted in the shower. Cum was dripping down your leg and Ghost helped your rinse it away since you were too drained to even move. You were trying to catch your breath, legs wobbly and your pussy abused.

He loved the sight of you all fucked out like this. And you loved how he took care of you after fucking you like this. You turned to face him, using his shoulders to support yourself, and looked into his eyes; a tired smile on your lips.

“Do I deserve a kiss now?” You said innocently.

Ghost scoffed, unable to help how the corners of his lips curled. He cupped your face with one hand and leaned in to kiss you. He was hungry for it, definitely wanting to kiss you this whole time but holding back to drive his point home. You kissed him with as much pleasure and desire, humming into his mouth.

“You’re fuckin’ mine, ya hear me? Don’t wanna see you do that again” He scolded you in a whisper against your lips.

You let out an impish giggle, “I just love riling you up. But I’m all yours, Si.”

A/N: I’m sorry!!! It’s long as fuck again!!! But I tried!!! Anyways >:( hope you loved it you rascals <3

#call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost riley #simon ghost riley #fanfic #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ghost riley smut #smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost Riley x female reader #simon riley x female reader

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dotster001 · 2 years

Note

Hello! I really liked your fanfic about mistletoe and I would like to submit my application. Can you write what type of girl the characters in the twisted wonderland like?

What Kind of Girl they Like

Summary: Fem! Reader What girl the twisted wonderland boys say they will fall for, versus who they will be attracted to.

CW: Fem! Reader, some of the boys are assholes with their answers, it's explained away in the who they end up with section, so take it with a grain of salt, also these are just my opinions. If you don't agree that's ok!

A/n:it is truly humbling how few of these I actually fit the description of 😭 also, feel free to send in an ask if you want the staff and non nrc boys, or a masc. Reader version (there are some differences for some of them for a male lover)

Masc Version gn! Version

Heartslaybul

Ace Trappola

What he says

"I dunno, she'd have a great bod and make me sandwiches. Kidding! Sevens, don't glare at me like that, I was just messing with ya! She's probably smart, and sweet as sugar, and let's me get into trouble. And a great bod wouldn't hurt- hey don't throw stuff at me!"

Who he ends up with

Ace is going to be naturally attracted to a girl he can "bring out the worst in." She probably starts out shy and quiet, then Ace adopts her into his friend group, and now they are sassing each other back and forth. She calls him out on his bullshit, and fights against his teasing with teasing of her own. But she also takes care of him when he's down. He's hiding a lot of insecurity under his cool guy exterior, so if she lets him snuggle, and lets him whine, and then whispers how much she loves him, he'll be a happy man. Also, side note, he's fine if you like sports, but if you know nothing about basketball, it means he gets to look really good when you come to his games. Just saying….

Deuce Spade

What he says

"Huh, I've never really thought about it. Um, I guess she's nice and funny, and isn't scared of my past. I'd also want her to be a little like you, Y/N….not that I like you! Well, I like you, not like like you, shit I'm sorry! This isn't sounding any better…"

Who he ends up with

He really means it when he says he wants someone like you. You're one of his first friends, and, in his mind, the person you date/marry should be your best friend. But if it's not you he ends up with, he will probably be attracted to a girl who's book smart, but less street smart. A little "dumb" like him, in a cute kind of way. He likes a cuddler, and maybe a girl who is shorter than him so that he can feel like he's swallowing her whole when he wraps his arms around her. Also, someone who encourages him and helps him with his homework/paperwork.

Riddle Rosehearts

What he says

"I don't have time for a relationship right now….but I think I want someone well behaved who follows the rules- what are you smirking at? Just because you're a rule breaker doesn't mean every girl is. I'd also like her to be in the medical profession. You know, someone who works the same profession as me so we have similar interests."

Who he ends up with

As much as he hates to admit it…he's attracted to rule breakers. Not as bad as Ace obviously, he's not trying to go gray early. But if she says something like "let's have a non herbal tea" when it's time for only herbal tea…damn what a rush. By the time he gets serious with someone, he'll be confident enough in himself to cut ties with his mother, so she has to be strong willed, and willing to live off of a low budget for a while. He'll need someone understanding, who knows he'll have relapses and be too much and too angry sometimes, and she has to be understanding of that, and encouraging of improvement, or he'll live with guilt for the rest of his life.

Trey Clover

What he says

"Someone who's willing to settle down and grow fat and old with me. You're laughing, but I'm going to be running my parents bakery, and feeding people is my love language. Speaking of, you better finish off that slice of cake before the others steal it."

Who he ends up with

Trey isn't that picky. He really means it when he says he wants someone to get old and fat with. That's his dream. Running a bakery with his wife by his side, and growing old together as your own kids grow up and bring home their own spouses. But he also wants a girl he can blindside with his sadistic side. Someone who'll enjoy that side of him, but also someone who easily forgets it's there. It makes things more fun for him.

Cater Diamond

What he says

"Ha ha someone trendy and totes hot. Someone totally cammable. Aw, are you jealous? Don't worry, you'll always be my fave girlie, even if you're not the girl I love."

Who he ends up with

Cater wants someone who won't disappear when he looks away. Yes, if she's "cammable" that's the first thing he's looking for, but when all is said and done, if she seems like she's going to be flaky, he won't take it too seriously either, as a defense mechanism. He needs a girl with mental endurance, because he's going to spend the beginning of the relationship trying to scare her off. Not that he wants to, he just needs to know he won't be left alone like he usually is. He is going to be attracted to a girl who humors his trends and magicam addiction, but who also sees through him. Someone balanced. She sees the real Cay Cay, but she's also willing to be his "trophy wife" online.

Savannaclaw

Jack Howl

What he says

"Oh, I uh, well someone who can keep up on a run with me I guess…"

Who he ends up with

Jack says he wants someone who can work out with him. And he would really be happy if he had a girl who was as active as him…but he'd also be happy with a curvy girl. He gets blushy thinking about holding someone soft and plush against his firm muscles. But he's flexible. In the end he won't choose his future wife based on appearance and activity. Wolf beastmen mate for life, so the main thing he is looking for is loyalty. Loyalty, and someone who would want to raise lots of kids with him. As long as you have those two traits, nothing else really matters to him.

Ruggie Bucchi

What he says

"Girlfriends are expensive, shihihi. Tell you what, you find me a lady with sticky fingers, and we'll eat the rich together."

Who he ends up with

This is a deflection. Ruggie loves the idea of a busy business wife, while he is a trophy househusband, cooking and cleaning for his high powered lady. He wants a strong woman who will scratch his ears and tell him he did such a good job! Then he'll draw her a bath, and massage her feet as she tells him about her day, then they'll snuggle and make out until they fall asleep…that's the dream anyway. He can be a little worker bee until you rise through the ranks, which you will, Ruggie has absolute faith in you. You guys can rob people early on if you have to. In short…Ruggie wants a dommish woman who will call him a good boy and keep him well fed.

Leona Kingscholar

What he says

"Body pillow"

"That's not-"

"Body pillow"

Who he ends up with

He's going to be attracted to a strong woman who whips his ass into shape. Someone who says, "Hey bitch, you're going to therapy, cause I love you and want you to be happy!" And then she actually makes him go. And when he does go, she rewards him with snuggles, and soft kisses. He wants a woman who's never scared of him, who's self assured, and is certain and vocal about her feelings for him.

Also, she has to accept that nighttime is when she's a body pillow. That's an absolute must.

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

What he says

"Why do you wish to know? Are you attempting to reach my standards? Ha ha, let's see. A woman who is ethereal, who is willing to dress stunningly, and sit in my lap when I make deals, so that competitors can see what a high value man I am."

Who he ends up with

If that didn't make you want to throw up 🤢. He'll be attracted to someone who makes him feel beautiful in subtle ways. He knows how easy it is to spin a verbal web of lies. But there's some things you can't fake. Like allowing someone to rest on your lap, and caressing their hair. Or squeezing someone's hand gently when you have to let go. Or pressing a kiss to someone's cheek after you help them straighten their outfit. It's the soft romantic moments that'll speak to Azul when he finds his love. Aside from that, he's not looking for anything in particular. Just someone who makes him feel loved and beautiful.

Jade Leech

What he says

"Fu fu who's to say? Perhaps you are the woman of my dreams. Or not."

Who he ends up with

She's a woman who can see through him. She's someone who never compares him or confuses him for his twin. She's smart. Very smart. She eats his mushrooms and goes on hikes with him. She is patient with Floyd. What Jade is looking for….is female Jade. Someone like that is the only one who can truly keep up with him.

Floyd Leech

What he says

"Aw Shrimpy! Are you worried? Don't worry, whoever she is, I'll still squeeze ya!"

Who he ends up with

He's looking for someone fun. That's his only criteria. At least that's what he says. He can't be sure if he loves her because she's fun, or if she's fun because he loves her. In that sense, it's sort of a soulmate situation for Floyd. Whatever will be will be. He'll just know.

…

Also she has to be squeezable.

Scarabia

Kalim al Asim

What he says

"I love everybody!"

"But-"

"Have some of this ice cream, it's amazing!"

Who he ends up with

He wants someone he can spoil, but he doesn't know that. It's something in his subconscious. He doesn't want things in exchange either. So she has to be someone who is okay with being spoiled, and doesn't feel guilty about it. He's going to be attracted to someone who loves life like him, but also helps to keep him grounded. And if she has a spark of danger in her, oh man, he'll be simping so hard.

Jamil Viper

What he says

"I'm not going to even think about it until my freedom is assured. Kalim has promised, but it would be irresponsible to force someone into servitude with me."

Who he ends up with

Jamil is going to be attracted to a hard worker. Someone who's dedicated, and slightly serious. He's also looking for a girl who will see how hard he works, and pampers him from time to time. He's never been in charge of anything, so he likes being the boss of the household. Not that he doesn't see her as an equal! On the contrary, he wants his marriage to be a partnership. But the idea of having somewhere where he is king is definitely something he likes. She can rule the house from as well. They can split the time they rule over the household. They'll take turns being served and pampered.

Pomefiore

Epel Felmier

What he says

"Um, she knows I'm the boss. Wait, that came out misogynistic, sorry I jus mean she knows I'm manly and can support her an all that."

Who he ends up with

He says he wants a cutsie tiny housewife, so that he can be the manly man at the manliest job for mans. He really will be attracted to any girl who doesn't doubt his masculinity, nor call him cute. Someone who tells him that they feel safe and secure with him. He says he wants a short wife. But he's fine with any size or shape as long as she sees him as someone who can care for her.

Rook Hunt

What he says

"Mademoiselle trickster, I can find beauty in every woman."

Who he ends up with

What he says is actually true. He can and will fall in love with every kind of woman. It's hard to say who he will tie himself to, in the end. It'll be someone who he heavily bonds with and imprints on. It's a lot like with Floyd. Essentially a soulmate situation.

Vil Schoenheit

What he says

"Hm. Why do you want to know, potato? I suppose she's professional, and beautiful, and cares about her image enough that she doesn't cause a scandal."

Who he ends up with

The thing about Vil is, he's not that far off from Rook in his take on beauty. He doesn't so much believe in conventional beauty, or societal beauty standards. He knows everyone has an individual definition of health and beauty. When he says he's looking for a beautiful woman, he's looking for someone who's willing to reach her full potential. Or, more accurately, to allow him to help her reach her full potential. Vil never admits it, but he adores pampering and styling people. His love language is helping people look their best. So if she's someone who knows herself enough to know what style she likes, he'll appreciate it, and take up the mantle of doing the hard work, ie making outfits, styling hair and makeup, formulating skin care etc. TLDR, he wants a confident self possessed woman he can dress like a doll, and show off.

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud

What he says

"-------------" mutes ipad.

In his head, he doesn't think any woman would ever love him. But his dream woman is a sexy anime cat girl.

Who he ends up with

What he'll be attracted to is someone who is patient, speaks at a reasonable volume, and is assertive enough to make him leave his room. Essentially, winning Idia's heart is a siege. You'll have to starve him out. That's the patience bit. The reasonable volume comes from him being easily scared by loud noises. Assertive enough to make him leave his room…well that speaks for itself. He wants to believe he can be part of the outside world, and the girl he will fall for will be willing to show it to him.

Diasomnia

Sebek Zigvolt

What he says

"She is someone of noble bearing, who shall help me defend my liege!"

Who he ends up with

He'll fall for a woman who is stronger, mentally, physically, etc., than him. A woman who can put him in his place. A woman who speaks, and it makes him shut up, and sit pretty. She's assertive, and can come off as abrasive to others but to Sebek? Sevens, he'd die for a smidgen of her affection.

Silver

What he says

"I don't think it's worth it to try and define the girl I'll fall in love with. There are so many wonderful women, and my father always told me that love is the greatest mystery in this world. Who's to say who I'll fall in love with?"

Who he ends up with

Silver will fall for someone soft. The entire romance will be soft. Soft caresses in the moonlight. Soft kisses in the morning. Soft fingers gently intertwining. She'll be empathetic about his sleep condition, never blaming him since it's not his fault. She'll be gentle with his animal friends. She'll be sweet and kind and the very image of a Disney Princess. I'm picturing Aurora, actually. How ironic.

Lilia Vanrouge

What he says

"Fu Fu Fu wouldn't you like to know."

Who he ends up with

Lilia can and has fallen for every kind of woman. He's lived a long time. He's had the time to romance lots of women. What he'd probably fall for in this stage of his life, is someone he can tease, and play around with, but who is also ready to settle down a little bit. Someone who enjoys the little things in life. He's getting a little old. He wants to build onto his family that he already has. Silver can stand to have three or ten more siblings, right?

Malleus Draconia

What he says

"You."

Who he ends up with

You.

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @stygianoir @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic

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amnestria-the-elf · 17 days

Text

So we're all just supposed to be fucking grateful that Larian gave us "new Wyll content" (evil ending for a man who is canonically incorruptible, what the fuck) and simultaneously broke him again (giving low approval greetings to a romanced PC, what the fuck).

I... I just... the simultaneous feelings of rage and utter hopelessness are overwhelming.

Listen, if you've read any of my posts you know I have a pretty clear "Don't yuck anyone's yum" policy. If you think an evil Wyll ending is interesting, fine. But here's why it falls flat for me.

First, like I said above, Wyll is canonically incorruptible. It's literally the entire basis of his character. He is a man who was coerced into making an infernal contract to save a city and had to pay a horrible price for doing so, then spent seven fucking years alone in the wilderness doing his damned best to protect the people of the Sword Coast, while all along telling his horrible, abusive patron to just fuck off already.

Now, could you argue that during the events of the game, Wyll develops a taste for evil? Sure. There are plenty of opportunities for his villain origin story to unfold. But they never do. His moral compass never wavers. Turned into a devil? He feels shame, because it's an outward sign that he was doing things for Mizora that were morally wrong, and he didn't see it before. His approval rating for the PC shoots through the roof if you save Karlach, a sure indicator of his true moral compass. His father kidnapped? Fuck that noise, we're gonna save him. Rescue Zariel's "asset"? Ugh, fine, but don't get distracted from the real reason we're here. His father gets tadpoled? Oh hells no, we're gonna take down these assholes and save the godsdamned world. His father accuses him of being an agent of a devil and is super pissy about it? "Everything I did, I did for the people of the Sword Coast."

For fuck's sake, he will leave the party if the PC gets too evil, even knowing it means he'll probably turn into a mindflayer immediately. Even if he's romancing the PC. Unwavering moral compass. So giving him an evil ending without also going back and changing everything about his character just feels like lazy writing to me.

Which brings me to the second reason all of this rubs the wrong way. Wyll deserves so much more content. More romanced greetings, more reactions to other characters' choices, a final boss battle that is actually about him, a default ending that actually makes fucking sense (I have another post cooking about the Avernus ending, so I will leave it for now.)

And please, spare me your "But Wyll was rewritten after early access" bullshit. That's Larian's problem. They chose to listen to feedback and do a late-stage rewrite. They then chose to implement it poorly and never fucking fix it. Other characters, who already have far more content than Wyll, have had even more added over the course of the seven released patches. Wyll, on the other hand, has been sitting around completely ignored until now when we get this evil ending.

Many have rightfully pointed out the inherent racism steeped in all of this. I want Larian to be better. But as Maya Angelou said, "When someone shows you who they are, believe them." I already didn't have much hope about Patch 7 for Wyll, but this... honestly, this is worse than him just being ignored again.

The thing that kills me the most is that this is just going to be more fodder for the fandom to completely mischaracterize Wyll, for those who already haven't bothered to think critically about his character at all to just be like, oh, cool, Wyll is evil now. Nope. You've completely missed the point.

I'm just... so tired. I've worked very hard to put this little bubble of Wyll enthusiasts around me (hi friends I love you all!) so that I can hold on to some shred of sanity in this fandom. The world needs heroes of color. Just let Wyll be the hero in peace.

#larian critical #patch 7 #wyll ravengard

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flamingpudding · 11 months

Text

Fictober23 Prompt: 21 - "Just in case this doesn't work."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

A/N: Inspired by this Post about Danny bullshiting his way by saying he is Tims future kid. Also once again posting this early, cause I need to destress tomorrow and not worry about writing or work or anything.

Edit: Thanks to @kisatamao in the comments I found the post again that inspired this and linked it!

"Chronus"

"Nowadays I go by Clockwork."

"Fine, Clockwork then."

"John Constantine."

The Ancient of Time and Justice League Dark members stared at each other blankly. Until the ruler of time smiled and Constantine sighed. "How is the time baby doing?"

"Very well. Your timeline is safe. There was an incident that could have possibly splittend the timeline again and in a way it did but the destruction timeline was once more prevented, by the child himself like I hoped for. Three times now."

Constantine grunted, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "You know if Bats or any of his kids ever learn about this I will be the one to take the burn right?"

Clockwork only smiled a knowing smile and Constantine paled. "When?"

"Where is the fun if you knew. The little Drake has been quite unpredictable and entertaining." The Ancient mused floating around the room and Constantine's eyes narrowed.

"There won't be a paradox?"

Clockworks tilted his head with a mischievous smile on his face. "Well the timeline in which he was born no longer exists and his father of this time line has ceased his efforts in cloning. He never even got to the point of trying to combine his own DNA with the one he so desperately wanted to clone."

"I feel like I am hearing secrets I definitely do not want to know. Just tell me if this timeline is safe or not now."

"It is safe. Your timeline has now a true Ancient of Balance in the making and just in case this doesn't work, I have anchored Daniel's existence in this timeline with several means one of which was his own time clone created from a split of destruction line."

Constantine's eyes twitched. "For all of our sakes I hope Bats never finds out about this. If he ever learns that I replaced a still born with a grandson of his from a different destruction timeline… You know what, I am not nearly drunk enough for any of this mate!"

Clockwork chuckled, his eyes glinting with unhidden amusement. "Well John Constantine, would you like a word of advice?"

The JLD member took another long drag of his cigarette before flicking the butt of it somewhere to the side. "No riddle."

"When 17 turns to 4 it is not the grandfathers, you should fear."

"I said no riddles!" Constantine huffed as clockwork disappeared from his side. He brushed his hair with one hand, glaring at the spot where the Ancient of Time had been. He should have never agreed to help that damned being 15 years ago, having been somewhat of a beginner then John did not realize what kind of deal he had agreed on.

Now he wasn't sure if he should be relieved or fearful of the consequences. Especially now that he had worked with the Bat Family a couple of times already.

Exactly one year later Constantine decided he was fucking fearful!

Unknown to the Brite a lot of things can happen in three years. Like Parents turning on their child after accidentally learning about a truth. A teenager that was already hurt trying to salvage whatever peace he could.

—--

"Mom! Dad! I swear it's still me, Danny!"

"Give me back my baby boy you monster!"

—--

A governmental organisation committing mass genocide on an interdimensional species.

—--

"Ember, get out of here! Now!"

"Baby Pop! What about the others?!"

"Dan already released them! Get out of here! I will hold them off and keep them busy!"

—----

The interdimensional species try to convince said teenager fighting for them to forgo humanity.

—--

"Welp, this can't go on. No hunt is worth this much."

"Give it up already. The humans made their decision."

"They broke too many rules, it is time they suffer the consequences."

—--

A heavy conflicted ending with the teenager receding into its core and getting picked up by one of his papa from a different timeline.

—--

"What kind of crystal is that? It radiates a pretty strange but familiar energy."

"I wanna see! I wanna see!"

"If it's not dangerous, why not keep it?"

"It looks like there are snowflakes in it."

—--

The kid then reformed out of his core in his ghost age instead of human age with a green note appearing on his forehead. Said note confusing the kids papa making him contact the kids dad.

—--

"Tim you won't believe this…"

"Kon you sound weird, what is going on?"

"Remember that shiny crystal I picked up at the end of our last case?"

"The one with the snowflakes in it, yes."

"I think I just became a dad."

"WHAT?!"

—--

Which then led to the dad overanalyzing the note while the kid insisted that a certain ghost was involved. The child's grandparents then getting tipped off through the grandchild of the Ancient Constantine still curses in his mind.

—--

"So Pandora mentioned something to me."

"Hn."

"Have you tried asking Constantine about it? He is apparently in contact with a being that likes to write cryptic messages on green notes, or that's what Pandora told me at least."

"..."

"And your new grandchild came with such a note right?"

—--

And now John Constantine was fearing for his life, because Batman had tried to contact him several times now. Several times Constantine had found reasons to ignore. Only for the Bat to come knocking on his door -well more like rudely kicking it down- with fucking Super too! He was cursing up a storm internally and thinking of how best he could get out of whatever had crawled up the two hero's asses when right behind the two hero's stood another set of hero's he did not want to face especially when he noticed one of them holding a four years old toddler in his arms.

"Chronus you fucking asshole!" The Brite muttered to himself as the four hero's plus time baby stood before him demanding answers.

That was when the toddler piped up, eyes glowing a bright green. "So Clockwork does have something to do with this! I knew it!"

"Danny, sweetheart not now. You can tell us you were right after we figured out what timeline you are from and if we need to send you back or can keep you." Red Robin calmed the now pouting toddler Super Boy was holding and petting with a small chuckle. While Batman and Superman turned on Constantine.

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undercovercameron · 1 year

Text

sous chef

summary: rafe let’s himself play the husband role with your little life in your trailer. oh, also, he loves you. (alternate summary: the first time rafe tells you he loves you)

notes: i had a lot of fun writing this, i just love a domesticated rafe cameron that isn’t insane about coke and isn’t a murderous psychopath…. there’s also alcohol and marijuana use in this! def sexual content and in a particular prayer position…. anyways this was cute and i often romanticize my life in this way too! enjoy pls

tags: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

word count: 2042

When Rafe steps down the rickety stairs and onto the soggy grass, the humidity smacks him in the face like a wall of pond-scented wet sponge.

“Fuck,” he curses, raising a hand to his brow, and squints in the late morning sunshine. A mosquito buzzes past his nose and he swats it away with a golden ringed hand. His head pounds like a drum. Damn your cocktail skills— you always find a way to get him fucked up despite his tolerance. It’s the Pogue in your genes.

That thought makes his head pound harder, but he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. The only thing he likes in his family’s high-brow country club culture is the shit that comes with money. And with your limited experience in that, you’re a break from the bullshit.

He fumbles in his pocket, looking for his keys, but his fingers just land on empty gum wrappers and a lighter. He ascends the trailer steps in twos, wrenching the door open, and starts for the kitchen. There’s movement in your bedroom but he just grabs his keys and finds his way back outside into the muggy weather. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s rushing out to do— his plans aren’t until the afternoon.

He’s halfway to his Range Rover parked haphazardly next to your early 2000s Corolla when the front door’s hinges squeak and you call out to him.

“Needing this?” You hold up his wallet between two fingers, and he snorts. You step down onto the grass with bare feet. You’ve got a black lacy thing on top and a pair of half-buttoned jean shorts on the bottom.

“Take anything you aren’t supposed to?” He says, squelching over to your half-dressed form.

“Maybe. You know that’s my mom’s thing, not mine.” You roll your beautiful eyes.

“That right?” He says quietly, sliding his wallet into his pocket and taking your neck into the side of his hand. “Never know, with you.” His mouth meets yours for the first time that day, and you sigh. His hand smoothes down your waist and he tucks his fingers into your waistband, feeling the material of your panties. His favorite pair.

You stumble in the soft earth, feeling yourself being tugged closer, and your arms wind themselves around his shoulders. He’s hot and pulsing with feeling under your touch.

You taste like mint toothpaste and something like watermelon from last night. Every time he kisses you you taste like Sunday mornings and sunshine. But he finds the will to pull away with a hand on your collarbone.

“I’ll see you tonight.” His tilted face glints in the sunlight and his eyes are half lidded and relaxed. At peace.

“What’s tonight?” Your brows pull together, lips screwed up, and he lets go of you.

“I’m goin’ fishing with some buddies later today. I’ll bring you something I catch.” His blue eyes follow yours as you scan his face.

“Mmm.” You smooth a hand down his chest. “My own personal Hank Parker.”

He turns, sliding you off of him with both of your wrists in one hand, and backs towards his car with a chuckle on his lips.

“You’re weird.”

“You’re sexy.” Your gaze moves from the top of his head to his shoes. “Bye.”

“Mhm. Bye.”

His back turns to you and he grins foolishly to himself, depressing the unlock key on his fob. You’re going to ruin him someday.

Later that night, he approaches your door with a cooler, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and a limp in his step. He can’t escape a fishing trip without some sort of injury. He’s lucky if it’s minor. The lights are on in your trailer, and you had even lit the citronella candle on the tiny picnic table off to the side of the front door.

He knocks on the flimsy door on merit and upon no response, shoulders into your living room with a huff.

“Y/N?” He calls, nothing but the crickets chirping and some soul music coming from your radio making any noise in the small house. He sets his things down onto the counter and your lack of response starts to make him a little worried.

That nagging worry immediately disappears when he saunters into the small bathroom and sees you sitting on the toilet, feet propped up on the side of the tub, smoking a joint and painting your toenails.

“What’re you doing?” He asks for some reason, face splitting into a grin, and you pluck the half-smoked J from your lips and hand it to him. Smoke curls out of your mouth and into your nose, and he just chuckles as he takes a hit.

“Multitasking,” you say, eyes meeting him before going back to the task at hand.

“‘S what I love about you,” he murmurs, and leans down for a kiss. You grant him one without acknowledging the beat your heart skips. He barrels on, trying to make you forget his lingual mishap. “I’m going to clean the fish while you finish here and then we can cook, yeah?” He sucks the life out of the joint and hands it back. You push it between your lips and nod, swiping a final time at the pinky toenail of your left foot. Five down, five to go.

“Sounds good, baby,” you mutter through your focus. He turns and you smack his ass as he leaves, relishing in the jump and curse word he grants you in response. You smile around the filter in your lips.

Finishing your nails takes so long that Rafe already has the fish in the pan and half of his drink drained by the time you appear from the bathroom with freshly-purple toenails and the lingering cocktail of marijuana and acetone in your hair.

“What’re our sides, Chef Rafe?” You ask, having a sip of his bourbon. You cringe and make a disgusted noise at his favorite alcohol.

“I heard you—this brand is good, snob. And there are potatoes in the oven.” His broad back is to you as he pokes at the fish in the pan, the smell of hot oil and cooking meat lingering in the air. He even opened the window above the sink and lit that candle you like.

“Sounds perfect,” you murmur, sidling up behind him, and curl your arms around his waist. The worn surf shop shirt he has on is smooth to the touch, and his skin is even smoother when you push the hem up to get your hands on him. “You look so sexy cooking for me.”

“Yeah?” He sets down the spatula and reaches for the cajun spices next to the stove. “How sexy?”

“Really sexy.” Your fingertips toy with the waistband of his jeans, and a colony of goosebumps prickle the skin of his forearms. He nearly shivers when you press your palm flat to the muscle above his pelvis and slide past his belt. He seasons the fish a little more with a shaky hand.

His eyes fix on a single crooked tile in the faux backsplash when you creep your hand down into his boxers, and your mouth presses to his back when he hangs his head. Your fingers smooth down the length of his dick, skilled and familiar, and his mouth drops open.

His heart starts to beat quicker when you pull his zipper down and unbutton his fly in one fell swoop, hot face pressed to the thin material of his shirt. He can feel your grin through it. Your thumb swipes across the tip and he sucks in a breath and grabs at your wrist. He starts to let you go when you kiss at his shoulder blade and curl your hand around the shaft and start to move.

“You have a good day today?” You murmur, bringing your hand back to your mouth to spit into your palm before getting back to it. He looks to the side, silently cursing, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Mhm.” His word breaks into a groan and you relish in the sound. He’s so good at pleasing you and getting you loud, it’s nice to just hear him for once. His fingers grip the edge of the stove so hard his knuckles pale.

“You smell so good.” You squeeze a hand at his waist, another one working hard in his boxers, and he chokes on one of the rawest moans he’s ever expressed. Your grin widens. “So good, baby,” you kiss through.

“F-fucking—…” He exhales heavily and his hips jerk at the increasing sensitivity. “You’re too good at this.”

“Not possible,” you say, and peek over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face. His ears are a bright pink, same as his lips, and his face is screwed up in something akin to bliss. You love it.

Your fingers slow for a moment, letting him catch a breath. He pants a little bit but licks his lips, eyes blinking open and looking surprisingly dark. You move his shirt aside with your other than and creep your fingers up his abdomen, stopping briefly at his abs before lowering back to hold onto the anchor of his stomach. You press a kiss to his bicep before your hand speeds up again, fingers a little tighter.

“So sexy,” you compliment smoothly, your smirk evident. “Needy.”

“Stop,” he breathes, eyes closed once again and biting at his lip. “You know that’s my line.”

Your thumb slips over his tip once, twice, then three times. He nearly chokes on a groan.

“It’s true.” A bite to his upper back. “So fucking sensitive to me you’d think we’re virgins, huh?”

His head rolls on his neck, internally cursing, and he grabs again at your wrist as you move quicker.

“Y/N,” he starts to chant, squeezing his eyes.

Swiftly dropping onto your knees diagonal to him, you grab at his right arm and pull him around to you. His side crashes against the stove with the force but he just pants and grabs at your hair to pull you closer to his dick.

You push him into your mouth with one hand on his hip and the other curled around the back of his thigh. He lets out the most wrecked sound when you push him all the way to the back of your throat. You suck, hard, and watch as his head tips back and his mouth open in an O.

“Fuck,” he shudders when your tongue swirls around him. “Shit.”

You go high on your knees, grabbing at the base of his dick, and push it further. His hips stutter and his fingernails dig into your scalp, but you dismiss it when he goes nearly silent.

“Please,” you mutter, mouth full, and that’s what sends him barreling over the edge.

“Fuck!” He forces out between his teeth, and it immediately turns into a gasp. “Y/N.”

You just ‘mhm’ and open your mouth so he can see. He release his grip on your hair and pets down the side of your head, panting with his eyes locked on yours. You leave him with one final suck that makes him shiver and then pull back. You get to your feet, happy with yourself, and seal him with a kiss. He grunts into your mouth but reciprocates.

“I think the fish might be burning, honey,” you comment, peeking over at the stove, and he just closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“I fucking love you.” He grins, not quite catching his breath.

You don’t necessarily freeze, but you stay silent. You take a moment to just look at him, watching the way his eyes fall open and the corners of his mouth turn down as his grin falters.

“I love you, too,” is all you say, eyes twinkling, and then you open the fridge and turn away from him. “We don’t have any cranberry juice.”

You’re simply looking for the ingredients to your preferred drink, but a bashful blush finds its way onto your cheeks.

His heart and lungs start working again and he turns back to the stove, taking hold of the spatula.

“Looks like you’re going to have to use orange juice,” he says through his smile.

#obx #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron abi #rafe cameron smut #obx x reader #obx smut #obx fanfic

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hotch33tos22 · 15 days

Text

Shigaraki x Barista Reader

“Your Number.” (Fluff)

Danm it...

DANM IT!.

it was you again... the same woman who'd always be working in the coffee shop. your usual 9 to 4 shift,Saturdays to Wednesdays to where on Thursday, to Saturday youd do your daily chores, errands or relaxing...

There you were again... and again... every morning handing Tomura his usual Plain coffee with two sugar packets and you could never forget his stirring stick.

Once again in a repeated schedule Tomura would go every morning only during the days when you work at 10 am for his coffee, 9 was too early to see you.. he didn't seem THAT desperate for your attention but later on he had to things... 10... well.. 10 was perfect.

This had been his routine now, to get this coffee and see you behind that counter... the place was nearly always empty when Tomura was there but he didn't mind that at all...

He was here just for you after all...

He'd always have his snarky yet bold attitude towards you... yet you never minded?

He couldn't help to wonder why...did he hate it? Maybe... Maybe not?

Even when he wasn't in his best moods and was acting all cocky and harsh you'd still be nice.

It'd been pissing him off for quite awhile now... his anger with your kindness, your niceness towards his bullshit... you never called him out, never insulted him, never made any bad remarks or said anything rude. Just the same

'good morning!',

'what can I get for you?' bullshit. What did you think of him? Really... Did you even think he was attractive, or cool... or funny? Or was he just like some rude customer you put up with... what the hell were you thinking...?

It was driving him nuts, his mind racing... he just had to know what you were thinking... maybe you thought he was attractive, maybe you even found him attractive and cute, or at the least charming... it's not like he was some hideous creature or anything... his thoughts started to become more and more lewd and intrusive as his eyes slowly traced your body from behind the counter... damn it... His eyes started wandering down your body, thinking about what you looked like underneath your uniform, your skirt and your top and... dammit all-

He began to feel a slight heat rising to his face, quickly covering his reddening cheeks with his hand, scratching his cheek with his long, bitten back nails. This was a bad habit of his when he got nervous.

“Damnit... no no no...” he mumbled, rubbing his fingers over his rough neck, trying to quell the intrusive thoughts that we're growing more and more prominent in his head. He was getting all worked up over a woman just because she was nice to him, and she was attractive... he let out a low, exasperated sigh, his eyes remaining fixated on you the entire time while you prepared his coffee.

He continued to stare at you from where he stood, letting his eyes travel up and down your form, tracing every detail of your figure. He found himself becoming increasingly distracted, trying (and failing) to control his thoughts.

It's all your fault... you were too damn nice, too nice to a person like him, and that was just encouraging the thoughts he was having about you...

His scratching suddenly became more intense as he became more and more agitated... he felt trapped. Trapped in this seemingly endless cycle of infatuation and desire, unable to escape the hold you had over him. He needed to say something, anything, to break the silence between the both of you. Taking a deep breath, he hesitantly looked back up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of frustration and something else he wouldn't admit.

As he continued to stare he couldn't help but to wonder... would you be into him?

He could have sworn you Knew he was a villain. The moment where one day he had accident let down his mask in front if you as you stood in shock but quickly composed yourself to continue on and take his order.

He knew he wasn't the typical ideal type, He was too much of a dick, too standoffish with an attitude that didn't help much at all with making him approachable. He was awkward, he knew that much, his awkwardness could be endearing in some ways... but it would probably be a major turn off for most people.

His thoughts continued to race as he tried to figure you out.

'Fuck it.' Was all that rang in his mind as he subconsciously moved his body towards you.

'wait... wait..! Stop-... stop moving-!' His mind panicked as he stood infront of the counter as you looked up at him with a tilting head of confusion

"Do you need something sir?" You curiously asked

Dammit... he cursed himself, internally facepalming as he realised what he was doing, his eyes darting to the floor in embarrassment.

Why was it so damn hard to just ask... you...

It's was as if something was holding him back, like something inside him was keeping him from spitting it out. He felt pathetic, standing in front of you like a shy teenager with a crush.

As he heard you speak, he suddenly became acutely aware of the way you addressed him.

Sir? Why was it 'sir...' he was only twenty for Christ sake...

He scratched his neck again, trying to hide his reddened cheeks.

"I'd... like your number..." he mumbled, trying to sound as disinterested as possible as he forced himself to look up into your face, his eyes avoiding direct eye contact, instead focusing on the counter.

He knew it was a direct request and maybe a little bit sudden... but it had been gnawing at him for months now and he just... he just couldn't keep it in anymore.

"I'm sorry?" You furrowed your brows in confusion you didn’t hear him through his mumbles, you leaned over the counter to hear him better. He leaned forwards, his hands gripping the edge of the counter as he repeated himself a bit more clearly.

"I asked for your number..."

He was so close, the only thing separating them was the counter top itself. He could smell the faint scent of pertume on you, as well as faint traces of coffee that clung to your clothing and skin.

Number? Like your employee number?….

"Is there a complaint you'd like to do?" You looked up at him with worry. Did your services not satisfy him? Was it a complain?

He let out an annoyed grunt, rolling his eyes at your confusion.

"No, no... there's no complaint... I just..." he paused, his mind running in circles trying to find the words to say.

"I just, I-" he was getting flustered again, his heart racing in his chest as he looked at you. He had come all this way, he was so close to asking... so why did he feel so damn nervous?

Your eyes furrowed deeply as you tried to understand his stuttered words.

He cursed internally, frustrated by his inability to express himself properly. He knew he probably looked like a complete idiot right now, standing there and stammering like an imbecile, but he just couldn't push the words out.

This was so damn frustrating...

He knew what he wanted, he knew what to ask for but his damn mind and mouth just weren't cooperating.

He took a deep breath and tried again.

"just-" he started, still refusing to make eye contact with you. His fingers dug into the edge of the counter as he tried to calm his racing heartbeat.

"Just... give me your number... please..." Please? he thought in disbelief. He rarely used please... hell, he hardly ever said please. But somehow it just slipped out without him realising.

His heart beat faster as he waited for your response, mentally preparing himself for the possibility of rejection...

"M-m-my number?" You stuttered out as your cheeks rose red, as you began to realize he wanted your number. sure you'd get asked for your number not often but time to time by a couple of different men. But during work? With a customer you Knew was a villain? You wanted to decline but danm it you've been crushing on him for what? The longest he's ever came to the shop?

He couldn't help but notice the way your cheeks became flushed, a slight blush spreading across your face. For some reason that made his gut twist in a way he wasn't quite used to...

He leaned a bit further forwards, his eyes darting from the counter, to your face and back again, hoping that his intense look wasn't too off putting.

"Yes... your number..." he repeated, the words leaving his mouth a bit more firmly this time. He was nervous, anxious even, but he was determined to get what he came for.

"O-oh...o-okay um.." you nervously shuffled through the counter to find a pen and paper

He couldn't believe it. You were actually... agreeing? That was unexpected.

He'd thought you'd turn him down, maybe say your weren't interested, or that it was against policy for employees to give out their personal information to customers...

He watched you intently as you searched through the storage underneath the counter, his heart thumping in his chest.

He couldn't stop himself from scratching at his neck again...

"Hurry up..." he mumbled, his impatience growing with every second that passed.

He wanted your number, he needed your number as soon as possible.

He glanced around, noticing how some of the other customers were shooting him weird looks from their seats, probably wondering why he was leaned over the counter so much.

He grumbled under his breath, wishing they would mind there own damn business...

You finally found a pen and ripped an empty recipe paper nervously writing down your number as you bit the inside your your cheek.

He watched as you hastily scribbled your number down, his eyes eagerly following the movement of your hand.

His heart rate was increasing by the second, the anxiousness and anticipation was almost too much for him to handle.

He leaned himself forwards even further, his arms pressing against the counter as he craned his neck to get a better view of the number you were putting down.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime, you stopped writing, ripping the piece of paper from the recipe book and holding it out to him.

He stared at it for a moment, his eyes fixed on the numbers you had written on it.

This was it. Your number... he could finally have a direct way of communicating with you...

He quickly snatched the piece of paper out of your hand, holding it between his fingers as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

He could feel the excitement building inside of him, his pulse racing as he folded the piece of paper and stuffed it into his pocket.

He looked back up at you, and for a split second, he almost felt like he was on cloud nine. But just as quickly as the feeling came, the reality of what he had just done hit him like a truck.

He'd just gotten the number of a woman he had zero chances of actually getting, and he didn't even know how to talk to women. He was in way over his head already.

He quickly attempted to school his expression, trying to maintain his usual bored and nonchalant expression, not wanting to let on how much this interaction had affected him.

But as he stared at your nervous expression and flushed cheeks, he realised he was failing miserably. He could feel his own face heating up, the tips of his ears feeling warm as the realisation hit him. He cleared his throat, attempting to compose himself before speaking.

"Thanks..." he mumbled, his voice coming out more gruffly than he had intended.

He knew he should probably say something else, anything else, but he was tongue tied.

His mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to think of something to say to make this situation less awkward. He fidgeted with the paper in his pocket, his fingers tracing over the numbers written on it.

"U-um-…T-thank you..." you softly spoke as you looked at his hidden features. Your ears were dusted with a hue of red as you looked up at him with the most loving eyes. He couldn't help but notice the way your eyes softened as you spoke, the look of admiration and affection in your gaze making his heart skip a beat.

He felt a sudden rush of heat to his cheeks, his body reacting involuntarily to your look.

He quickly looked away, desperately trying to hide the effect you were having on him.

"Whatever..." he mumbled, attempting to sound disinterested and unbothered but failing miserably.

He dug his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, his fingers gripping the piece of paper that held your number. He knew he should probably leave now, he had gotten what he came for, after all... but something was stopping him from walking out the door.

He glanced back at you, his gaze lingering on your face for a moment too long before he spoke up again. "I..uh, I should get going..."

"Y-yeah um-" you cleared your throat before continuing

"yea... thank you for...coming,"

He nodded in response, his heart beating a little faster as he realised that this was it, he was actually leaving.

"Yeah, no problem...thanks..for your number ..again." he mumbled, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice.

He started to slowly back away from the counter, his eyes still fixed on you. He didn't want to leave, he wanted to stay here and talk to you, but he knew he couldn't.

"I'll..see you around..." he finally managed to say, giving you one last glance before turning and making his way towards the door.

“Y-yeah..”

As you watched him leave you felt your heart flutter with nervousness... excitement...happiness..., you held on to your chest with quivered lips as you watched him leave.

He pushed the doors open, stepping out into the bustling mall. He could feel his heart beating faster than usual, his mind racing with thoughts of you. He put his hands in his pockets again, his fingers automatically tracing over the piece of paper that had your number.

He could still smell the faint scent of perfume and coffee lingering in his nostrils, a constant reminder of just how close he had been to you.

As he walked through the mall, he couldn't help but feel a sense of disbelief.

He, a villain, had just gotten the number of a cute, innocent worker. He smirked, a small chuckle escaping his lips as he thought about the whole interaction. It was so cliché, so movie-like, he felt like a damn fool. He had acted like a bumbling idiot almost the whole time, stuttering and blushing like a preteen boy with a crush.

He shook his head, trying to snap himself out of his thoughts. But no matter how much he tried, he couldn't forget the way you looked at him.

It replayed over and over in his mind, a never ending loop of your soft eyes and flushed cheeks.

As he continued to walk, he suddenly realised something.He had no idea what to do with your number.Sure, he had it now, but what was he supposed to do with it? Text you? Call you? He wasn't even sure if you'd actually respond.

He cursed under his breath, shoving his hands further into his pockets as he tried to figure out his next move. He considered just throwing the piece of paper away, it would probably save him a lot of trouble in the long run...

But as much as he tried to convince himself, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The thought of letting go of your number, of losing the only direct way he had of communicating with you, was too much for him to bear.

He needed that number, he had to have it. It was like some kind of sick obsession, the need to have this small piece of paper was driving him insane.

He grumbled to himself, frustrated by the conflicting emotions coursing through him. He didn't understand it, he didn't understand why he felt so drawn to you, why he felt this intense desire to have your attention. He had never felt like this before, not for anyone. It was like you had a hold on him, a power over him that he couldn't break free from.

He wasn't even sure if he wanted to break free, that's what worried him. He was becoming too attached to you, too obsessed...

As he continued walking, he suddenly caught sight of his reflection in a store window.

He looked a mess, his hair was sticking up at odd angles, his eyes were wide and dilated, and his cheeks were flushed red.

He quickly looked away, cursing under his breath again. Why did he look so damn flushed? Why was he acting like some love sick fool?

He gritted his teeth, feeling a wave of self loathing wash over him. It was pathetic, it was... embarrassing. He couldn't let anyone know how he was acting, they'd think he was weak, soft. It was bad enough that you had probably noticed his odd behaviour, if anyone else found out he'd never hear the end of it.

He had been walking for what felt like forever, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts and feelings. He was becoming frustrated, irritated at himself for being such a coward.

He had you number, he could text you right now if he wanted to... but he didn't know what to say.

He didn't want to come across as too forceful or inappropriate...

He let out an annoyed sigh, pulling the piece of paper out of his pocket again and staring down at the numbers scrawled on it.

He could feel the paper crumpling under his grip, his fist clenching subconsciously as he looked at it. as he stared down at the paper, reading the numbers over and over again, he knew it was pointless to try and deny it.

He was obsessed with you, completely and utterly obsessed. He couldn't go an hour without thinking about you, wondering what you were doing, if you were thinking about him...

He was a goner, and he knew it.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, quickly unlocking it placing in your number, opening up the messaging app.

He stared at the screen, watching the cursor blink silently as he tried to gather his thoughts.

What did he say? Should he be direct and straight to the point? Should he try to be casual and charismatic? Should he text you right away or wait until later?

He groaned in frustration, his fingers hovering over the keyboard but unable to type anything.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He had to do this, he had to send you a message. It didn't matter what it said, as long as he got the chance to talk to you.

He started a new message, staring at the blinking cursor again.

"Hey" he typed, then immediately deleting it. No, that was too casual. Too generic. He needed something more unique, something that would grab your attention.

He tried again, his fingers moving furiously over the keys.

"Sup?" No, that was too casual. Too dismissive. He didn't want to sound disinterested.

He backspaced again, trying a different approach.

"Hello." No, that was too formal. Too abrupt. It would make him sound like a creep.

He cursed under his breath, struggling to find the right words to say.

He didn't want to come across as too desperate or too casual. He had to find the sweet spot, the perfect message that would get your attention without sounding clingy or creepy.

He tried again, his fingers trembling as he typed.

"Hey, it's me..." he typed, then quickly deleted it. No, that was too vague. That would make you question who he was.

He grumbled to himself, getting more and more frustrated by the second.

He knew he was overthinking this, making a mountain out of a molehill...

But something about you just made his brain turn to mush.

He took another deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

He had to just bite the bullet and type something, anything. It didn't matter what, as long as it got the conversation started.

He typed quickly, before he had a chance to second guess himself.

‘It's Tomura.’ he wrote, then quickly typed another message.

‘The guy who came into the coffee store earlier.’

'Black hoodie and blueish hair?’ You replied in a instant.

He chuckled at your description, his heart fluttering a bit at the fact that you remembered what he was wearing.

'Yeah, that's me.' he typed, a small, barely noticeable smile gracing his lips.

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elsgooglyeyes · 3 months

Text

hello everyone. long LONG time no see, but i'm back on my bullshit. here's an excerpt from a story i've been pondering over recently.

for context: joel and ellie took you in when you were 15, blah blah lots of lore. long story short, you end up in jackson with them, you and ellie are 18, almost 19, and unfortunately...you've fallen in love with her. ellie williams. your best friend. oh my god. good luck babe!

summary: you have morning coffees with joel almost every morning, and your feelings for ellie are causing quite the inner turmoil...here's you confiding in joel who has become a father to you. longing. yearning. fatherly love. sarcasm. friends to lovers. the whole shabang.

a/n: i fear this is mostly self indulgent as someone apart of the dead dad club LMFAOO

wc: 2.1k

As you step outside, the early fall air immediately wakes you up slightly as it wicks through your thin clothes. You wrap your free arm around your torso, warm coffee mug in the other as you walk through the side yard of Joel's house. Your feet crunch against the dying grass as you exhale shakily. As you turn the corner, you immediately spot Joel already sitting in his respective chair on the porch. You smile softly as you approach the steps, directing the smile towards him.

Joel looks up as you approach, a familiar warm smile gracing his lips. He tilts his head in acknowledgment, his eyes still weary from sleep.

"Mornin'," he grunts, his voice still rough from waking up. He gestures to the chair beside him, silently inviting you to join. You slowly walk up the porch steps, sleep still taking toll on your body, causing you to move groggily. The sun rises, peeking out behind some clouds, providing you with a bit of warmth from the crisp air.

"Morning," you grumble in return, sitting down on the chair beside him, bringing a knee to your chest and immediately taking a sip of your coffee. You sigh as the hot liquid falls down your throat, warming you up from the inside.

Joel chuckles softly at your grumble, well aware and used to your morning moodiness. He also takes a sip of his coffee, savoring the bitter taste before speaking, "Rough start to the day?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Always," you mumble softly, taking another sip, desperate to wake up some more. A soft wind blows, causing the wind chimes to play their familiar music.

Joel grins wryly and nods, settling back into his chair. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the only sounds now being the wind chimes and the faint chirping of birds in the distance. This routine has become sacred to both of you, getting to sit together before the hustle and bustle of the day, just enjoying the other's presence. While the mornings are usually peaceful, your thoughts begin to cloud your mind as soon as your brain wakes up even the tiniest bit. Eventually, Joel breaks the silence, his voice gruff but gentle.

"Seems like fall's finally making its way in," he observes, glancing around, feeling the chill of the air envelope him. You nod in agreement, grimacing. "Unfortunately...it's too damn cold. I'm still not used to it being this cold this early in the year"

Joel nods, a knowing look in his eyes. "Hm," he hums, "sometimes I forget you grew up mainly in the deep south. Your body's built for the warmth, I reckon. You're in for a rude awakening, ain't nothin' quite like a northern fall–or winter, for that matter. It'll get pretty damn harsh up here."

You groan, this is your first winter in Jackson, and while you're grateful to finally have a bed to sleep in and a stable roof over your head, you can't help but feel a little upset at how cold it'll get.

"Can't wait..." you retort sarcastically and take another sip, sighing softly. Joel snorts, a dry chuckle escaping his lips, "Oh you’re just a ray of sunshine this morning, ain't ya? Even more so than usual," he teases, a glint of amusement in his eyes. You chuckle in response, shaking your head, letting out a soft groan.

"Sorry. I'm just thinkin'. Kinda too lost in thought to be the greatest of company this morning." Joel notices the change in your demeanor, your usual early morning grumbles making way for something a little deeper, and his rugged features soften.

He looks over your face, taking note of your slightly furrowed brows and frown. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"I don't know if I can even tell you these thoughts for a quarter," you attempt to joke, but it falls flat. Clearly whatever you're thinking about is taking over your entire mind. However, Joel still cracks a wry smile, appreciating the attempt and nods at you.

"Try me," he says. "Though I can't say I guarantee a quarter's worth of wisdom, but I'm listenin'."

His words bring a sort of peace to your anxious mind, yet the thoughts still linger. You sigh softly and groan, putting your face in your free hand, your other tightening its grip on your mug. Joel watches you closely, noticing your clear frustration. His expression turns more serious, sensing that whatever you're grappling with isn't something lighthearted.

"C'mon, kiddo," he coaxes, his voice gentle but firm. "Out with it." You attempt to disguise your frustration with a forced smile and a wave of your hand, but Joel just smirks at you, knowing you well enough to see through your playful facade.

"Nuh uh," he shakes his head, leaning forward slightly in his chair and takes another sip of coffee, sighing. "That ain't gonna work on me and you know it. What's bothering you?" You roll your eyes playfully, cursing his stubbornness and protectiveness. You squint your eyes slightly and look out onto the street ahead of you, listening to the wind chimes. Eventually, you take a deep breath and open your mouth to begin talking.

"I've got these..." you gesture with your free hand, attempting to find the right words for your inner turmoil, but to no avail, "feelings." You shake your head and take another sip, eyes trained on the street, "I don't know..." You shake your head.

Joel notices your struggle to find the words, his hard gaze unwavering and attentive. He also takes a sip of coffee before setting the mug down on the table between you, looking over at you.

"Feelings, huh? 'Bout what exactly?" He probes gently, his voice filled with patience for you. You close your eyes and sigh, "Who is the better question." You mumble quietly, a part of you hoping he didn't even hear you. However, he did, of course. His brow furrows momentarily, leaning back in his chair, shifting his gaze to try and catch your eye, a small smirk playing on the corner of his lips.

"Who, huh?" He echoes, his voice gravelly, "lemme take a guess..." You roll your eyes. There's not a chance in hell he knows who you're talking about, because it's absurd. You finally shift your eyes back to him, "You'll never guess," you murmur.

Joel chuckles deeply, "Oh you underestimate me, kid," he retorts, the smirk in the corners of his lips deepening. "I know you well enough to take a pretty educated guess." You draw your eyebrows together and look at him, silently challenging him to guess. He takes a moment to consider, his keen eyes studying your expression, and his eyes crinkle.

"Alright," he begins slowly, clearing his throat. "Let me throw out a name." You shrug, taking a sip, confident he'll say some girl you've talked to twice, or even a boy you've mentioned in passing. He looks out at the street, mirroring your early actions before tilting his head, his eyes locked onto yours as he prepares to make his guess. He takes a deep breath, his voice steady and sure.

"Ellie," he says firmly, his eyes unwavering as he gauges your reaction, his eye crinkling more as his smirk deepens into a smug smile. You choke on the coffee you're in the middle of swallowing, coughing as you hear her name fall from his lips, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Gotcha, didn't I?" He teases, his smile turning into a full blown grin as he looks at your shocked and confused face. "Don't look so shocked, kid. You're not exactly subtle."

Your eyebrows furrow as you look between his eyes, "What?" If Joel was able to notice, does that mean...?

He interrupts your thoughts with a husky laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You think I haven't noticed how you look at her? How you've been looking at her? For years?" He chuckles again and tilts his head at you, "It's pretty obvious, even to an old fart like me."

You groan and place your coffee down on the table, resting your elbows on your knees and burying your face in your hands. "How long have you known?" You mumble into your hands, though you're almost too afraid to know the answer. He hums thoughtfully, "How long?" He repeats, scratching his bearded chin, "hmmm, let me think..." He pretends to count the days out on his fingers, a deliberate slowness to his movements.

"Well, let's see," he says, drawing out each word with his southern drawl, "I think I've known for...oh, I dunno, about a year now.' You raise your head out of your hands and look at him in bewilderment, "Joel...you're lying."

He grins back at you, "Why would I lie about this, kiddo?" You lean back into your chair, rubbing your hand over your face, mumbling an "oh my god."

Joel laughs heartily, finding your flustered state amusing, "Oh c'mon, don't look so horrified," he teases, "it ain't as bad as you're makin' it out to be." You shoot your eyes over to him, shaking your head, "Joel, she's my best friend."

Joel nods in understanding, his expression softening as he looks at your anxious state. "Oh, I know," his voice losing some of the teasing edge from earlier, gentleness taking over, "but feelings ain't always that simple, are they? Feelings are complicated," he reassures, "and when it comes to best friends," he whistles lowly, "well, it'll complicate things even more."

You look up at the porch ceiling, moving to pick up your forgotten coffee and take a long sip, grimacing as it's turned slightly cold. You sigh and look back at him with pleading eyes.

"What am I supposed to do? I thought they'd go away a long time ago but..." you trail off, searching his eyes for his wisdom.

"I wish I had a simple answer for you, darlin'. Feelings aren't always something you can just make disappear. Believe me, I know that all too well." He squints his eyes as he looks out.

"You're no help." You grumble, taking a sip of your now cold coffee. He chuckles softly, the warm sound rumbling in his chest as he raises his hands in mock defense.

"Hey, I never said I was an expert on relationships. Just an old man trying to give his two cents." You chuckle in response and take a deep breath. You're afraid to ask this next question, but it's been gnawing in the back of your mind, "Do you think she knows?" Your voice soft, wincing a little bit as you look down at your coffee.

He ponders your question for a moment, his expression thoughtful as he genuinely tries to come up with an answer, he sighs lowly before answering, "Can't say for sure...Ellie's a smart kid, and she knows you like the back of her hand. But sometimes...feelings can be hard to pick up on, even for the smartest of us." You nod slowly, swirling your coffee in its mug.

"That's what I was afraid of...sometimes I'm scared she can see right into my soul." You chuckle dryly. He lets out a soft laugh, appreciating your lighthearted attempt to play it off, "Yeah she's got a way of seein' through people, doesn’t she? Can't hide much from her, you included."

You groan again, throwing your head back to slump into the chair. "Don't say that. You're supposed to say: 'Oh don't worry, she's completely oblivious and has absolutely no idea you're madly in love with her'" You mimic in his deep southern voice.

Joel can't help but let out a hearty laugh at your imitation of his southern voice. He grins widely, clearly amused by your mockery.

"Alright, alright," he chuckles, reaching up to scratch his beard. "Lemme try again." He clears his throat and puts on his best serious face.

"Darlin', she ain't got a clue," he says in his gravelly voice, suppressing a smirk. "Oblivious as can be."

You smile at him, appreciating his efforts to make you feel better, even if they aren't exactly true. He returns your smile and chuckles, "Hope that's of some help. Though I gotta say," He leans toward you, his voice lowering, "your impression could use some work."

You laugh, feeling put at ease by his familiar teasing, "No...I don't think it does. It's pretty spot on actually," you quip back, causing another gruff laugh to fall from his lips. "If you say so, kid."

You smirk at him and open your mouth to retort back but are cut short by the sound of the door to you and Ellie's shed creaking open, cutting through the relative silence of your surroundings.

"Speak of the Devil," he smirks at your automatic body response of slumping further down into the chair. "C'mon now, you can play it cool. You're tough."

You groan softly, "Im not the same girl you took in when I was fifteen," you whine softly, "I've lost my edge!" You slowly sit up as you hear her footsteps approaching from the side of the house, shooting him a look, "Not a word," you warn him, pointing at him. He raises his hand and pretends to zip his mouth shut as Ellie rounds the house, giving you both a sleepy nod and a grumbled, "morning." Her eyes lighting up when she sees you.

okay that's all you get. love y'all xoxo.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #the last of us #tlou #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams x you #ellie willams x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you

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sweetnsour1 · 5 months

Text

10:53:01

Fluff, Bakugou x fem reader

Part 1 of 2

“You’re kidding.”

“Why would I be kidding?” His tone had shifted. You could hear his brows and eyes furrowing at the strangled laugh you had shakily exhaled.

“How did you find out?” He had to be fucking with you.

“Um, the mission briefing...like usual?”

“What?” Shit, so he wasn’t fucking with you. You blinked away tears of frustration already threatening to leak into your voice. Stupid.

“Huh?”

“So, you’re really leaving?”

“Have to, beautiful.”

“But...”

“Yea, I know. I’ll miss you too.” His tone was getting softer with every awkward response you choked out.

“No, I mean...” You let the words trail off. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d forgotten the meaning behind this quickly approaching date. Your brain couldn’t even craft a way to bring it up without whining. You couldn’t do it. “Just be safe, okay?”

“The hell do ya think I am? I’m always safe.”

“Safer than your version of safe, please.” Your tone was firm as it delivered the familiar words, a ritual every time he left for a mission.

The memory of the first time you’d made the request came to you easily. He was in the doorway of your office, backing out, bumping his wide shoulders into the frame as he failed to smoothly exit. Red spread across the skin directly below his mask. You had thought you had overstepped, maybe he was upset that you questioned his performance. Your head had tiled to the side in confusion when instead he only said, “Yes, ma’am.” He landed a smack against the head of the blonde hero snickering behind him as he walked off, mumbling something about shutting up.

“Mmm.” You smiled. Maybe he was thinking of that day too.

“‘Mmm’ isn’t a promise.”

“I’ll be back before Saturday. Promise.”

“Back with all the parts you left with.”

“Ya gonna’ love me less if I don’t?” His words were obviously being spoken through a smile now, or a smirk more likely.

“Depends on what you lose.” A part of you melts at the chuckle let loose in your ear.

“Bullshit.”

“Mhmm.” You’re quick to agree but want to hear him laugh again. “If you come back hurt, I’ll just kick your ass for not listening to me.”

‘What if I come back without an ass?” His laugh is cut short as you hear a familiar voice inform him how that would be highly unlikely to count as coming back safe. The tone on the other end gets harsher as he tells the man with him to mind his damn business. You roll your eyes at the familiar sounds of bickering bubbling between the two heroes. You pull Katsuki’s attention back to you as you catch the sound of Deku’s mediating attempts only pacifying Todoroki.

“Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

“Yea.” You quirk an eyebrow at the leftover hostility worming its way into his conversation with you. He hears it too, coughing back to a gentler version before he continues. “I’ll see you Saturday, beautiful.”

“See you Saturday.” Your words fall forward in a mumble towards the screen already reminding you that you’d ended the call. Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck.”

You rolled your head forward; thankful it was still early enough in the day to start making all the calls you’d need to. You did a few of those dumb square breaths that your therapist swore by. It was annoying that it helped. A feline reminiscent stretch was the only other action you took before opening the most frequently used document saved on your phone. The twinge of regret at the sight of the bright orange header was promptly shoved aside as you began scrolling down to the vendors’ contact info. By the third call, you had quite a script ready to go as soon as someone picked up: Hello, sorry to bother you right before closing. I actually have you guys booked for the event tomorrow night. There’s been a change of plans and I would like you to deliver the (whatever they were in charge of) to (whatever organization could use it) as a donation instead of delivering anything to the venue. After that, it was always a short confirmation of details before you dialed the next number on the list.

The biggest loss was the venue...no, that was wrong. The biggest loss was not being able to get Bakugou’s birthday right AGAIN. You really weren’t sure anymore if the blame was with you or the universe or maybe Bakugou was a villain whose only agenda was to thwart your birthday attempts. Well, you were pretty sure it was you, but it was way past ridiculous at this point. His birthday had been a disaster or disaster adjacent every year since you’d started dating.

There was the first one where you got flustered when he had the audacity to go for the first kiss, getting you flustered enough to drop his gift, a very not waterproof limited edition and vintage All Might card, off the bridge and into the river. The next involved a mistake where you accidentally had Kirishima drop him off at the wrong address...not realizing there were two locations for the restaurant you two had your first date at. The one after, you ended up hospitalized for just a few days, missing his birthday completely because your dumb ass didn’t wake up in time. Although he technically had spent it with you, you just weren’t conscious. You both had work the one after that, so not really your fault on that one. But you did forget his present at the office and so ended up giving it to him the day after, so that part was your fault.

He was always annoyingly understanding about the trouble you ended up causing on the one day every year that you wanted to be the least troublesome. He would just laugh it off, thanking you for an unforgettable day. He’d call you cute or sweet or a menace. He’d say his birthday wasn’t anything to stress about.

His words would be so much easier to accept if he didn’t seem to feel differently when it came to your birthday. He never gave a gift late or damaged or less than perfect. He never messed up the date or time or location. He never forgot any part of his plans or goals for the day. It was always irritatingly more than what you would’ve imagined or expected. Not that birthdays were a contest, but...if they were, you were fucking losing badly.

You slid your phone further across the counter after your last call. This was supposed to be the year you got it right. You’d even enlisted a dangerous amount of help for a surprise party: Kirishima to keep Bakugou from finding out, the head assistant at their agency to get the scheduling information just right, Mina was charged with the guest list, Kaminari and Sero were assigned the entertainment (with final approval from you after a near x-rated disaster). You even had Midoriya help you decide on a present.

Everything was finally going to be perfect. You were so determined. You had even stupidly begun to feel safe in your victory. The party was supposed to be tomorrow. And now, he wouldn’t be back for nine days. Fuck. Fuck.

“Fuck.”

You pawed at your phone again, sending a quick text to Mina so she could notify the guests of the cancellation. You were already exhausted from the last half hour of calls and just wanted to crawl into the bed that was now dumber and colder and emptier than it was supposed to be. Before burrowing, you sent “code yellow” to the One Brain Cell group chat, following the ridiculous list of emergency code phrases made up by Kaminari. You didn’t think you’d end up using them, but here you were.

You then finally set your phone aside for real, pretending to set the urge to sulk along with it. This was part of the job. He was needed and that was a priority...helping people should come first (and it always did). Even if a selfish part of you, that seemed to get louder every time he was called away, wanted nothing more than to convince him to stay. The man you were in love with wouldn’t just give up his purpose or his morals like that. Not even for you. It was admirable. As a hero, you loved and respected that. As his girlfriend, it made you feel more jealous and selfish than you would ever admit.

You would just have to not suck next year.

Inspired by the request sent in by @mentallyablaze-writes

Masterlist

Part 2 coming soon

#Bakugou #Bakugou fluff #Bakugou x reader #pro hero bakugou #Bakugou imagines #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha Bakugou #bakugou katsuki #fluff

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chvoswxtch · 3 months

Text

a little more time

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: you're starting to question just how much patience you have left for frank.

warnings: swearing, frank getting ganged up on by our latest dynamic duo, more angst than an early 2000s emo playlist

word count: 3k

a/n: & here is the second half of this week's double drop. enjoy the calm while it lasts, bc the storm is right around the corner. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Frank raised his right fist to knock three times against an apartment door labeled 6F. The person who the apartment belonged to was still a mystery to you. Neither you or Frank had spoken a single word to each other the entire short drive over. Instead, you’d sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed tightly over your chest, glaring out the window.

A minute later, the sound of a lock twisting broke the tense silence, and the front door was opened. A tall man stood in the doorway, his dark brown eyes wandering over Frank from head to toe and back up again. He was somewhat obstructed from your view since Frank was standing right in front of you, but you saw the way his full lips pursed in lighthearted disapproval before he lightly smacked them.

“Aw, shit.”

“Good to see you too, Curt.”

“Wish I could say the same. You know, most friends do normal shit. Go fishin’ down in Florida, maybe golf or somethin’, but you, you’re always draggin’ me into some bullshit. So what kinda trouble you bringin’ me now, Frank?”

“Told ya I needed you to look after somethin’ while I was gone for a bit.”

The man wore a light gray long sleeved henley, and the top of three buttons was undone. The waffle knit fabric stretched tightly over his biceps when he crossed his arms over his chest, lifting one of his dark brows in question with a look of suspicion on his face.

“Yeah, you didn’t say what though.”

Frank finally stepped aside, and the man fully came into view before you. When his dark brown eyes landed on your figure, an expression of surprise softened his skepticism. His onyx brows lifted in a show of disbelief as he glanced between you and Frank, giving him a pointed look.

“She’s with you?”

“Yeah. Curt, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Curtis.”

Looking up at Curtis, you did your best to give him a polite smile along with a faint nod of your head.

“It’s nice to meet you, Curtis. Frank’s told me nothing about you.”

“Well that makes two of us.”

Indents of puzzlement creased along his forehead and without another word, Curtis reached his right hand out to wave his palm back and forth in front of your face, which took you by surprise and made your brows knit in curiosity while you blinked a few times. Frank looked at Curtis inquisitively.

“The hell you doin’?”

“Just checkin’ to see if she was blind.”

“Why?”

Turning his head to look at Frank again, Curtis looked him up and down once more with an expression of dubiety.

“Couldn’t think of another logical explanation of what the hell she was doin’ wit’cho ugly ass.”

Blowing a puff of air past his lips, Frank shook his head and turned to glance around to his left. Meanwhile, you had to cover your mouth to stifle the laugh that Curtis conjured with his quick response. Shaking his head, Curtis reached out to take your bag from you, stepping aside and gesturing for you to come inside, all the while side-eying Frank.

“Could’ve at least carried her bag for her, damn.”

Frank looked genuinely offended by the implied accusation that he hadn’t even attempted to be a gentleman, and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop from smiling at the way he scrunched up his face in defense.

“She wouldn’t let me.”

“Mhm.”

Curtis’ apartment was modest and simple, not overly decked out in furniture and decor, but definitely more homely than Frank’s. It felt awkward standing in the middle of a stranger’s living room that you had just met, knowing that you were supposed to be staying here for a few days. That thought had something from Frank and Curtis’ exchange suddenly sticking out in your mind.

Frank had told Curtis he needed him to keep an eye on something, not someone.

Turning around to face them, your narrowed gaze landed on Frank and creases of irritation swiftly knit between your brows.

“You didn’t tell him that I was coming, did you?”

Both men’s heads snapped in your direction when you spoke. Curtis glanced between the two of you with a comical look on his features as he picked up on the fact that Frank seemed to be in trouble with you. It was evident how hard he was trying to suppress a smirk. Frank on the other hand turned to face you fully, and he returned your expression of irritation with his own annoyed, broody scowl.

“Didn’t wanna ask over the phone-”

“And you didn’t think to ask in person before you packed me up and dropped me off?”

Curtis had his arms folded over his chest, and he was fighting to hide his amusement behind his right fist. His broad shoulders were subtly bouncing, and the sound of his snickering caused Frank to snap his head in his direction with a deep frown. Clearing his throat, Curtis turned to look at you with an easy going smile and gave a loose and dismissive wave of his right hand.

“Look it uh, it ain’t a big deal, alright?”

“It is when he’s the only one here who seems to know what the fuck is going on.”

The tension between you and Frank was thick, almost visibly lingering in the air, and Curtis quickly picked up on it. He’d placed your bag on the floor by his feet, but in an effort to diffuse the situation, Curtis reached down to pick it up in his left hand and loosely gestured with his right towards a hall around the corner from you.

“Here, why don’t we get you set up, alright? I uh…needa talk to Frank right quick.”

Curtis regarded you with a sympathetic glint in his eye, and it had guilt filling your bloodstream like lead. Your presence here was an imposition, whether he would say that out loud or not, which you figured by his kind nature he wouldn’t. It wasn’t fair of you to stand in the middle of his living room and argue with Frank, disrupting the peace of his home and causing him to feel uncomfortable. Silently nodding your head in agreement, you gave Frank one last forlorn glance before you turned to follow Curtis.

In the midst of your disappointment, both in Frank and yourself, you noticed that Curtis seemed to walk with a slight limp. It wasn’t overly apparent, and you’d only observed it because your eyes were on the ground in front of you following the heels of his shoes, but it stoked your curiosity. Frank hadn’t told you anything about him, you hadn’t even known he existed until today, but he was clearly someone important if Frank was leaving you in his trusted care. Your mind began to wonder where that integrity stemmed from. When he placed your bag down on the edge of his bed, you quickly shook your head and spoke up.

“I’m not kicking you out of your own room.”

Curtis turned his head to look at you and studied you silently for a moment. His deep brown eyes flickered between the door of his bedroom and your own gaze. Taking a step in your direction, he reached out with his right hand and gave your shoulder a comforting light squeeze.

“We’ll talk about that later. Why don’t you just sit down for a minute, take a deep breath. Unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders.”

You hadn’t even been consciously aware of the fact that you were doing all of those things until Curtis pointed them out. Sucking in a deep breath, you let it out in a slow exhale through your lips, trying to release the frustration and stress in your body along with it. When you sat down on the edge of his bed, your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and you folded your hands in front of you with your forearms resting on your thighs, staring blankly ahead at the wall.

“So, this kind of thing is normal with him?”

Slipping his hands into the pocket of his jeans, Curtis looked over at you while leaning back against the wall and granted a nod of his head.

“I’ve known Frank a long time. Kinda gotten used to him bein’ a pain in my ass.”

“And you put up with it?”

There seemed to be an unspoken understanding between the two of you at that moment. The way that Curtis looked at you told you that he knew what you were really asking him with your veiled question.

Should I continue to put up with it?

Letting out a deep exhale of his own, Curtis pursed his full lips and a contemplative look covered his features. After a moment, he returned your interrogative stare with an expression of empathy and lightly shrugged his broad shoulders.

“I’ve never known Frank to do somethin’ without a purpose. Whether it’s right or wrong, I can’t say. But, the intentions come from a good place. Most of the time.”

The way he spoke that last part caught your attention, and you looked up at him in intrigue. He had trailed off a bit, his dark brown eyes wandering towards the empty space next to your side. You wished you could read the thoughts currently passing behind his eyes. Curiosity creased along your forehead as you tilted your head to the side in question.

“Most of the time?”

Curtis’ eyes focused back in your direction and he held your gaze silently for a few seconds. You could see on his face that he knew he had said maybe just a little bit too much. He turned his head to glance towards the open bedroom door once more before returning your look of query. His lips faintly tugged into a reassuring smile when he nodded his head in your direction.

“Like I said, there’s always a purpose.”

While Frank and Curtis were conversating in the living room, you took a moment to look around the quaint space of Curtis’ bedroom. Eventually your eyes fell on your bag that sat on the mattress to your right, and all of a sudden it seemed to dawn on you that Frank had packed it for you. Unable to deny your curiosity, your fingers reached out to tug back the zipper, peering inside to see what clothing and necessities he’d chosen.

On one side of the bag, a pile of clothes were folded neatly, and on the other was your toiletry case. Thumbing through the pile of clothes, you felt a tightness in your chest seeing that Frank had chosen outfits that you would’ve picked for yourself. They were ones you wore regularly, and he’d even packed your favorite pajamas. Knowing that you liked to be overly prepared and have options in case you changed your mind, he’d made sure you had enough choices for a week, and he even managed to fit two other pairs of shoes in the bottom.

Frank had grabbed all of the essentials to pack in your toiletry case, everything that he knew you used regularly, and even a few things he must have just thought you might need. He hadn’t just randomly grabbed a bunch of things to shove in a bag and go. Frank had thoughtfully chosen every single item in this bag with you in mind. While you sat there with your bag open, staring at the contents inside, an unexpected wave of emotion built up along your waterline, and you hadn’t even noticed until you felt a trail of wetness cascading down your cheek.

A light knock on the bedroom door made you quickly wipe away the evidence of your emotional turmoil with the sleeve of your shirt, and when you turned your head, you saw Frank standing there in the doorway. He looked considerably calmer than he had twenty minutes ago, and seeing the remnants of sorrow shining in your eyes, his rough features softened into raw remorse. Glancing at your open bag sitting beside you, Frank looked down for a moment and cleared his throat.

“I uh…grabbed what I thought you would.”

Hesitantly lifting his head to meet your gaze, you saw that his warm brown eyes were full of unspoken apologies. Giving a faint nod of your head, you dropped your gaze down to your lap and spoke quietly.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Both of you had so much you wanted to say, but neither of you knew where to start, or what the right words were. The silence echoed loudly and the walls felt like they were tauntingly closing in around you. A sinking stone of intuition in the pit of your stomach had you prophesying the very real possibility that this would end with you left in bereavement, and that the romantic daydreams you had hand crafted in the back of your mind had been false fortune telling.

Frank took a few cautious steps towards you, and you could see his boots come into view in your peripheral as you kept your eyes downcast towards the floor.

“Sweetheart.”

God, the way he uttered that one word made your chest ache. There were a million different emotions packed into those two simple syllables, and you could hear the tender longing in his deep voice softly calling to you. Frank knelt down in front of you, his large hand reaching out to cup your face. He slipped his fingers into your hair right beside your ear, gently grasping the back of your neck and he tucked his thumb under your chin to lift your head slowly.

“Hey-”

Frank dipped his head to try and catch your eye. Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your line of sight to look at him, and the expression on his face broke your heart. His warm brown eyes were desperately pleading with you, darting between your lips and crestfallen gaze.

“-c’mon I don’t…I don’t wanna leave it like this.”

The warmth of his breath could be felt against your lips, and his eyes were frantically searching every inch of face for something…anything that could temporarily relieve this anguish until he returned with a permanent fix.

“Look if I could…if there was another way…”

Frank let out a deep sigh that trembled past his lips, and it was clear he was struggling to find the right words.

“Just…please. I’m gonna make this right, okay? I swear to you. I just…I need you to give me a little more time, alright? Just a little more. Can you give me that?”

It was hard to see Frank like this, the somber sheen to his eyes and the misery weighing heavily on his shoulders. He was asking for another strand of patience, but you didn’t know how much you had left, and it scared you to even think about what would happen when you ran out. It was unclear in your mind whether the love you had for Frank that was embedded deeply in the chambers of your heart could be enough to salvage the pieces he was leaving you with.

“Okay.”

Frank could hear the lack of conviction in your defeated tone, and it killed him. Deep down he knew he was asking too much of you without giving you any concrete reassurance in return, but he couldn’t see another path. All he could do was hope that your faith in him wouldn’t run out like grains of sand slipping through the narrow bridge of an hourglass, and that the consolation of your forgiveness could still be earned.

His soft lips parted, and there was an intense emotion in his eyes when he stared deeply into yours. It looked like he wanted to say something so badly, but he cut himself off before he could. Leaning in, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and let it linger for a moment before pulling away and retracting his hand from your face.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll be safe with Curt, alright?”

A pang of disappointment quickly spread through you. For a second you thought Frank might be the first one to speak those three words. If there was ever a time you needed to hear them, it was now. But then again, you didn’t know if you were ready to say them back.

Running your hand through the roots of your hair and pushing it out of your face, you sucked in your bottom lip and grazed it with your top teeth before letting it go and nodding.

“Yeah.”

Frank eyed you wearily for a moment before hesitantly rising to his full height. He didn’t want to leave things between the two of you so unfinished like this, but he didn’t have a choice. He didn’t know if he’d made things better or worse in attempting to leave on a smoother note. When he reached the doorframe, he paused and turned to look at you again, and it bothered him that you wouldn’t look at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, sweetheart.”

There was no verbal reply from you, just another nod of acknowledgement. Frank lingered there for a moment in the doorway, silently begging you with his eyes to look at him, but your gaze seemed to be permanently fixed on the floor. The image of you sitting there looking so dejected and disappointed burned into his memory, and he knew it would haunt him, even long after this was all over. He wouldn’t forget the moment he’d let you down so badly.

The only goodbye you got was the resonation of Frank’s heavy boots fading, getting fainter and fainter the further away from you he got. A few seconds later, the front door opened with a soft creak, and a murmur was exchanged before the sound of heavy wood sliding back into a worn frame was completed with the soft click of a lock.

The golden hour dripped through the thin plastic blinds, coating the entire room in a sundrenched glow, but the warmth couldn’t penetrate the endless and echoing loneliness that dug deep into your bones knowing that Frank was gone, again.

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawksfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

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