#sometimes it ends up being hotter than anticipated

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

The way Soap would use military talk to get a reaction from you. He knows you're into it. So you're standing in the kitchen, maybe cooking something and you can hear his raspy voice from behind the corner "Got visuals on the target" and you're already grinning, wisely putting down anything that could make a mess. You hear slight shuffling and a whispered "Nice and stealthy boys", the next thing you know is him tackling you and immediately catching you in his arms, carefully lowering you to the floor. He crawls over you rasping: "Hostage secured", and presses his lips to yours but you both have to laugh. And it ends up being a messy kiss because you both can't stop giggling and grinning into the kiss. And when he breaks away because you're both smiling so wide it's just impossible to properly kiss, you put your hand on his chest and tell him: "You're a goof MacTavish". His smile softens and he replies: "Aye, your goof, that is."

[rose-of-the-valley]

Pairing: barbatos x gn!reader/mc (pre-relationship, implied romantic) Genre: fluff, sfw Warnings: n/a Word Count: ~650 Notes: i wrote this in the one hour it took my bread to rise so it is very themed around watching too many baking vids at 3am

When Barbatos came knocking at Purgatory Hall’s door at midnight, he wasn’t expecting you to answer. Likewise, you didn’t expect to see him outside the castle at such a late hour. You blinked at him a few times, both in surprise and to try and shake off some of the grogginess that came with being startled awake.

“Oh uh, hi Barbatos. What brings you here?”

“I might ask the same of you - why are you not at the House of Lamentation?”

Before you could reply, a gentle whirring noise came from inside. Barbatos glanced past the door and saw Luke fast asleep on the couch, the source of the sound a Deviltube video playing in front of him.

Your eyes followed Barbatos’s gaze as you answered. “Luke was having some nightmares, so Simeon asked if I could come over and help comfort him. We ended up watching some cooking ASMR videos.” You smiled sheepishly. “I guess we both fell asleep to them.”

“Well then, it appears we are here for the same reason. I apologize for not being here sooner - I had to finish my duties to Lord Diavolo first. May I offer my assistance at this point in time?”

 The two of you carried Luke back to his room and tucked him in, saying your goodbyes to Simeon and turning off the TV on your way out. Before you could say farewell to Barbatos, he requested to walk you home, citing the time of day as a safety concern. After some protesting that he should rest sooner rather than later, you gave in and accepted his escort.

There was a comfortable silence as you walked. A warm breeze blew past every so often, and despite the Devildom’s strange weather, it felt like a perfect summer night. Perhaps it was the lateness of the hour, or maybe the summer vibes, but something emboldened you to reach for Barbatos’s hand. Your pinky brushed against his, the direct contact making you hesitate until you felt his finger curl around yours. The only evidence that he knew what he was doing was the faint blush dusting his cheeks. The two of you walked like that for a while, neither commenting on your now linked pinkies. 

Barbatos was the first to break the silence. “Do you often watch those kinds of videos?”

“You mean the cooking ASMR ones?”

He nodded.

“Sometimes, I guess. They’re really calming, and the recipes are pretty good when I feel like trying them myself.”

A small smile graced Barbatos’s lips. “If you would like, we could try one of the recipes together sometime. Or, if you would prefer to stand by, I would be happy to have you in the kitchen just watching and listening. Your own personal ASMR, if you will.”

You felt your cheeks flush, and not from the summer heat. “Yeah, I... I’d like that. Oh! We could start with the video I was just watching! They were making these really pretty tea macarons and I know how much you like macarons and - ” 

You stopped short as Barbatos’s laughter bubbled up. “I’m sure we will find the time to try as many recipes as you’d like. However, for the moment you should probably head inside.” He gestured at the open door in front of you.

“Oh. Right.” In your excitement you’d failed to notice that you’d unlocked the door the moment you arrived, the motion routine enough to be stamped into your subconscious. If it were possible for your cheeks to get hotter, they probably would’ve. “Thanks for walking me back. I’ll text you later to see when you’re free?”

“I shall look forward to it. Macarons sound delightful.” Barbatos bowed slightly. “Goodnight, MC.”

“Goodnight, Barbatos.”

As you closed the door you heard Beel rooting around in the kitchen. His head poked over the fridge door as you walked past. “Was that Barbatos? Did I hear you talking about macarons?”

You simply smiled as you headed to bed, anticipating dreams as sweet as the desserts you would bake with Barbatos.

[softquietsteadylove]

For the Mermaid au: could you do one where they are cuddling and kissing and being soft. pretty please

Thena's eyes fluttered, feeling lips on her skin. And that could only mean one thing; she smiled, her fangs poking her bottom lip as Gil peppered kisses around her cheeks. She purred gently, feeling like she had gone into a hibernation she was so sated.

Gil's kisses moved from her cheeks to her jaw to down to her neck.

Her eyes split open as his tongue traced over her gills.

"Thena!" he laughed as she flailed, trying to sit up in the bed only to realise her tail wasn't split, instead hanging off the end of the bed with her fins completely out. "Hey, it's okay!"

Thena leaned on her elbows, still feeling caught off-guard and maybe a little embarrassed for falling asleep and apparently letting go of herself completely. She blushed as Gil gave her a particularly amused smile beside her, "morning."

Gil leaned down, kissing her lips more properly this time. He pulled her into his lap, helping her situate her tail under the ruffled blankets. "Morning."

Thena clung to the bed sheet, her tail wiggling just at the tip. "I, um, we-"

Gil kissed her again, which she had no complaints about, surely. He was more affectionate than usual this morning. "Do you feel okay?"

After they had finally completed the act of mating, he meant. Thena nodded, the warmth in her cheeks not dimming any. She did feel a little embarrassed - mostly about the tail thing - but mostly it seemed her body insisted on running at a higher temperature in its elation.

"Good," Gil remarked lightly, looking her over for signs of a truer answer she might not have the words for at the moment. His finger tapped against her shoulder before tracing down her back to the small dorsal spines at the base of her back around her scales.

Thena shivered slightly.

"Does anything hurt?"

"Why would it hurt?" she was asking genuinely. Were human females not meant to mate under certain circumstances?

Gil kissed her cheek, still running his hands over her lightly. "Sometimes it can hurt a little the first time you do something new and...strenuous. But I guess you wouldn't have to worry about that as much."

Thena nodded again, still trying to wrap her head around it all. She looked down at her tail, still sticking out of the blanket and practically laughing at her lack of energy.

"Thena?"

She tucked her head under his chin, although with him looking down at her the space was tight. She wiggled for him to let her in. She lifted her tail, taking up most of the bed and rustling his bed sheets, "sorry."

"About what?" he laughed faintly, telling her that he knew what she was apologising for--the question was rhetorical. "I don't mind."

Thena made an unhappier sound in the back of her throat. After mastering the art of splitting her tail at a moment's notice, she hadn't anticipated losing control of it like this.

Gil moved one of his hands and ran it down the cool of her scales, pale and shimmering as a pearl. "It's a beautiful tail."

Thena's face burned hotter than she had experienced before.

"Have I never told you that?" he was asking genuinely, clueless to how weighty a statement saying something like that was.

Thena squirmed as he kissed the tip of her ear, which also felt flushed with heat. "I--y-you-!"

He held her shoulders, settling his chin on the top of her head again, "are you hungry?"

She was famished. She felt like she had swam the globe last night.

Gil took her silence as a yes, kissing her cheek again, although she did not want him to know how flushed she was for some reason. He leaned away from her slowly, helping her lean on his bunched up pillows without the support of her knees or a butt to sit on. "Here."

Thena clung to his pillow as he laid the t-shirt of his she had been wearing last night over her 'lap'. She eyed it, and then watched as he sought clothes of his own. Eventually she had to avert her eyes from the sight of him...swinging.

It felt very different to see that part of him after having come to know what it was capable of.

Gil came back over to her, kissing her hair, "take your time, Angelfish. Just come downstairs when you're ready, okay?"

She nodded, promising that she would indeed emerge from his room. He left, whistling as he went downstairs to the kitchen. It seemed he was in as elated a mood as she.

She pressed her smile to his pillow, absorbing the scent of him.

Her tail moved faintly in response to the pleasant stimulus.

Thena huffed at herself. She laid against Gil's side of the bed, focusing her energy on her blood flow. Slowly but surely, her scales pulled back and she split her tail into two separate bone structures. It had never taken effort like this before. She truly was depleted of energy.

She had to wonder if this was normal after the act of mating. Makkari and Sersi had both been so reluctant to tell her about it, in completely different ways for completely different reasons. She did manage to slip out of bed and pull his shirt on again. Her knees felt a little loose.

She managed to get down the stairs without incident. She poked her head into the kitchen, where Gil was stirring a pot with bonito and kombu in it (two of her favourites). He wasn't wearing a shirt, just those soft pants that were even softer on the inside.

He looked handsome.

Thena came into the kitchen with her hands clasped behind her. Perhaps she could understand why mating was such an affair in a person's life, whether human or mer. She felt...different.

Gil reached out for her, pulling into another kiss. Perhaps he too felt different. "Hey."

"Hey," she greeted back needlessly, giggling a little between their kisses and their closeness.

He pressed his lips to her temple and then hovered there, "last night was great."

She felt that was an understatement, but agreed. She put her hand to his chest, determined to ask, "are there post-mating rituals I should know of?--for humans?"

"Hm," he smiled, seeming determined to look at her and not the food he was cooking, "this kind of is one."

Thena tilted her head one way and then the other, "you cook breakfast everyday."

"Yeah but," he chuckled, pulling her against his chest again. Apparently mating turned him even more cuddly than usual (agreeable). "Breakfast after...mating--w-well, it can be different."

"Hm," Thena agreed quietly. She went to retrieve their little miso soup bowls, Gil's hand trailing against hers. He was truly loath to part with her, and she understood the feeling.

"Do you feel..." he looked at her, some of his usual anxiety surfacing under his giddiness, "different?"

Thena beamed, showing off her fangs. So sweet, her human man. She went back over to him, throwing her arms around his neck to kiss him. "Wonderfully so."

[sparksinsirius]

OUTCASTS | pt. 4

sorry for the long wait y’all

Every little fight and rude remark that happened recently between Tatter and Lusher, at this very moment Tatter doesn't think about them and doesn't want to remember all the petty comments. 

Tatter lets out a heart-wrenching sob and she runs faster than she ever has. She cradles Lusher's body close to her and barely registers what's happening around her. She only moves a little when she hears Bada's hushed tone filled with comfort explaining how the paramedics need to lift Tatter onto the ER truck. 

Somehow this doesn't feel real but Tatter knows it is. She keeps her head between her knees and her knees up to her chest. She feels something lightly hit her foot and looks to see a drink. She smiles sadly and picks up the drink. At that moment she decides it won't be for her but for Lusher. 

It's way too fucking bright. Lusher groans and reaches for a pillow but immediately winces because her whole body aches. She tries to speak but it comes out as a croak and makes her sound like a witch. She giggles even if no sound comes out. She looks to her left and sees a tall girl she swears she's seen before. 

The curtain is moving around more than it should. Lusher frowns and squints. She notices an arm and there's a shadow. The tall girl huffs. "Tat, give it up. I think she can see you." It's silent for a few moments and Lusher doesn't know how to feel when Tatter steps away from the curtain. She hasn't said anything but Tatter sobs. "You shush. I could've lost you tonight, you could've died!"

Lusher frowns. "Oh." She sticks out her tongue when she notices that Tatter is glaring. The same tall girl hums. "I can give you two space." Lusher narrows her eyes. "I don't know you." She scoots over slowly and gives Tatter an expectant look. She huffs when Tatter just stands there. "I scooted over for a reason. We don't have to hate each other right now." Just like old times Lusher rests her shin on Tatter's head. 

Bada doesn’t pry. She’s sitting a few feet away letting Tatter and Seoyoung. A few moments later she hears her name being called. It’s not Tatter who’s calling out but Seoyoung. Bada walks over and smiles lightly. She almost chokes on her spit when Seoyoung boldly says how she wants to know how Bada & Tatter met. That sure is a story.

flashback: 4 months ago (it might get a little steamy) 

Tatter scoffs to herself. There's no way the heartbreaker of the academy is 100% untouchable. She smirks, she has a plan that will break Bada Lee's act. This is going to feel so fucking great. 

Bada knows who Tatter is. She's seen the blonde around sometimes. At this very moment, Bada realizes that Tatter looks hotter than she ever has. She tilts her head in anticipation as Tatter walks forward with a lot of confidence. 

There's power and tension in the air when Tatter straddles Bada's lap and starts flirting with her. Bada is speechless for once, she's very flustered. She can't stop staring at Tatter's eyes and lips. She hums. "You going to kiss me?" 

Honestly Bada was just joking but she's not complaining when feels Tatter's rose soft lips on hers. Tatter hums happily in the kiss and is soon lapping at Bada's lips with her tounge. While still kissing Bada, Tatter makes herself comfortable. 

end of flashback 

Lusher playfully rolls her eyes. "You always do this. You always space out." Tatter is still a bit dazed. 'Oh those honey-like lips and her touch'. She becomes a little confused when she sees Bada's flustered look accompanied with a soft smirk. Lusher huffs. "You said that out loud sweetheart." 

Tatter apolgoizes right away. "Shit Bada I'm out of it. I hope those kind of comments don't make you uncomfortable since you're not heartbreaker of the academy anymore." Bada just giggles. "Let me hug you again." Before Tatter can even protest she's lightly slushed aganist a familar chest. She can't help the warm small smile that breaks out slowly. 

Lusher scoffs in the back. "I'm the patient here!" She shakes her head. She tries to move and once again too much pain shoots through her body. She glances at Tatter and realizes things might not go exactly to the way they were. She doesn't want to lose her ride or die. Honestly the reason they stopped being friends is so petty and bitchy.

prev - next

[mlobsters]

the x-files: fight the future (1998)

the x-files s2e24 our town

i'm watching fight the future. again. because listening to an elizabeth holmes trial coverage podcast that had someone named kurzweil in it. so clearly... anyway. apparently this is my liveblog of my millionth rewatch. i had this movie on vhs, my friends.

it's gary grubbs who was in the cannibal town episode!

you know what else i like about this movie. someone's clear helicopter obsession. give me all the helicopters.

what about my men?!

i just think it's neat how they managed to make a fucking cool ass movie in the middle of the tv show run. i know it was hell on the cast and crew and the show itself kind of suffered but damn they made a good movie (some plot silliness aside, it is chris carter after all)

SCULLY: Well, I just climbed up 12 floors, I'm hot, I'm thirsty and to be honest, I'm wondering what I'm doing up here.

MULDER: You're looking for a bomb.

SCULLY: Yes, I know that, but the threat was called in to the federal building across the street.

MULDER: I think they have that covered.

MULDER: Whatever happened to playing a hunch, Scully? The element of surprise, random acts of unpredictability? If we fail to anticipate the unforeseen or expect the unexpected in a universe of infinite possibilities, we may find ourselves at the mercy of anyone or anything that cannot be programmed, categorized or easily referenced.

What are we doing up here, Scully? It's hotter than hell.

glenne headly (uncredited, bartender)

mr holland's opus (1995) - glenne headly as iris holland

i love her voice. and she had this great little scene with mulder.

MULDER: I'm the key figure in an on-going government charade, the plot to conceal the truth about the existence of extraterrestrials. It's a global conspiracy, actually, with key players in the highest levels of power, that reaches down into the lives of every man, woman, and child on this planet. So, of course, no one believes me. I'm an annoyance to my superiors, a joke to my peers. They call me Spooky. Spooky Mulder, whose sister was abducted by aliens when he was just a kid and who now chases after little green men with a badge and a gun, shouting to the heavens or to anyone who will listen that the fix is in, that the sky is falling and when it hits it's gonna be the shit-storm of all time.

BARTENDER: Well. I would say that about does it, Spooky.

martin landau as alvin kurtzweil

fox peeing in the alley on the independence day poster. keep it classy.

KURTZWEIL: That official FBI business?

MULDER: What?

KURTZWEIL: Bet the Bureau's accusing you of the same thing in Dallas. Standing around holding your yank while bombs are exploding.

choppers!

plague to end all plagues. and FEMA!

"going that way" forever burned into my brain. little dudes with their thick accents and coordinated pointing. maybe i'll draw that some day.

MULDER: Five years together, Scully. How many times I been wrong? Never. Not driving anyway.

helicopters and the jiffy pop poppers (still an hour left, how many more choppers can we cram in)

MULDER: But you saved me! As difficult and as frustrating as it's been sometimes, your goddamned strict rationalism and science have saved me a thousand times over! You've kept me honest ... you've made me a whole person. I owe you everything ... Scully, and you owe me nothing. I don't know if I wanna do this alone... I don't even know if I can ... and if I quit now, they win.

fakeout kiss whatever. these little speeches, hugs and forehead smooches are a balm.

LANGLY: What can we do?

MULDER: You can strip Byers naked.

john neville as the well-manicured man

well-manicured man is well manicured.

In the DVD commentary, Chris Carter tries to peddle the idea that the emotions from the almost kiss in the hallway plus the CPR scene later in the movie equals a kiss. Not surprisingly, nobody buys that. (source)

oh, chris carter.

also, famously:

In X-Files Redacted, a 30-minute special that premiered on Comcast (before being leaked online and making its rounds on the Internet, of course), creator and showrunner Chris Carter set up the scene about where the main duo currently stand coming into the revival of the show: “Mulder and Scully, for 9 years, had a platonic relationship.”

SCULLY: I had you big time.

handwave the halfdead out of antarctica to talk to blythe danner.

CASSIDY: Bees and corn crops do not quite fall under the rubric of domestic terrorism.

SCULLY: How many other lives can we save? Look ... If I quit now, they win.

all right, all right. i'm done--WAIT

[romancemoon]

✨❝nightchill.❞ 🌙 maddie & vi.

✨ @celestieu​ asked 🌙 ∗ o2﹕ sender  offers  receiver  a  bite  from  their  fork . // ok but like... baking spoon instead..... meme. still accepting!

A soaking, heavier-than-considered-normal rain that arrived in the evening washed out plans to visit a small, local dive with a jazz band Virote really liked—he had planned on following that up with a stop to some late night patisserie on the way back to his spot. But, the weather was bad enough for them to stay indoors; though, Maddie didn’t seem to mind that much at all. The schedule was shuffled around and they ended up cooking, Miles Davis playing from the sound system. They had a hefty potful of pork, cuttlefish, and Yunnan ham simmering away on a steady, low flame on the stove, perfuming the entire apartment. Along with hot and sour sweet potato noodles, adding an aromatic of black vinegar and sesame oil.

While waiting for that to get done, they made about half a dozen vegetable dumplings to tide them over while everything else got done. Actually, Maddie was the one that cooked them. He gave her instructions and a clear guide, with a few notes on his tablet on how to get them filled and the best ways in pinching the sealed edges in a visually pleasing fashion. In the meantime, he was engrossed in his laptop, trying to figure out what they could do some other time when the weather was right. 

❝Hey, bestie-westie, there's this cool Muir Woods and Sausalito half-day trip could take if you're down for that? And, maybe—❞ Virote peeped a large baking spoon being offered from his peripheral, holding the fattest dumpling he’d ever seen in his life ( for fuck’s sake, it almost took up the entire spoon. ) The pleating wasn’t the greatest, but the dumplings smelled good. By the scent, he could tell Maddie was heavy-handed with the ginger and green onion.

He took the dumpling into his mouth, the spoon coming along with it. It fell to the counter. Never minding that the dumpling was hotter than Hell from a fresh steaming, it was better than he anticipated. ❝Holy shit, this is great! Are you sure you've never made these before? That’s my mother’s recipe, sometimes it’s hard to pull off even with someone teaching you how. Bring the rest over. And, can you get the peanut sauce out of the cabinet? To your left. It's the Trader Joe's one.❞

[clarks-letterman]

Wally anon: Oh noooo @ your phone dying. 💔

Oh, there's gonna be SO many, I did not. anticipate how much I would respond to it, so thank you very much for convincing me to watch. 🙌 Yup, the movies never make a good case of it compared to past movie geek characters (especially Kirby, who I still find to be THE ultimate movie geek of all). The fact she's making such blatant accusations of people would get her instanty. killed if the writing knew what it was doing (cause it's already prevented her from being in the finale twice dkfdk). I weirdly enjoyed her more in 6 cause I think Jasmin was able to enhance the humor more + the relationship between her & Anika was >>>> Absolutely agreed on Chad, though. His & Tara's relationship is incredibly. forced cause they go from having z e r o interactions in 5 to suddenly being all over each other each other in 6 cause the writers wanted to rehash Gale/Dewey without putting in the work. 🙄 I don't even want. Chad to die, but they reallyyyyy keep pushing the boundaries of the franchise's own.rules. with wounds just because "Dewey kept surviving" (even though, no, 5, Dewey was not. stabbed as many times as you make him say. he was, you are inserting a false narrative to excuse your bad writing) while making even worse. mistakes to excuse Chad's perpetual survival. 💀

(Completely makes sense cause his ego dkfhd) Yessss you get it. You really. have to get forceful with him & that just turns him on harder & makes him moan louder cause he needs. it, he needs. you to make him cum. 🥴

lolllll just you wait, cause you're about to get the biggest individual request dump I've sent so far. 🫣

Tell me about it. 💔 True, though. Like the direct opposite of ~aversion therapy~ where they have to watch gay sex until they don't hate gays anymore kdhdjs. Yupppp & they'd be fighting the entire time over which end of you they were carrying. Ridiculous fr.

That's what you think @ not much of an AU. But I've got a request inbound. 👀

And Milo would've been SO. good at being a killer. You can just feel. he has a more villainous character just itching to come out with more roles & I can't wait for the day we get to see it. 😭 Ooh @ first. I can't really recall who exactly mine was cause there were a l o t of ~gay awakening~ moments for me that didn't fully. dawn on me until later lollll. Fingers crossed @ IAWK. There's a REALLY hot guy in it that I haven't stopped thinking about since I saw it, so I wonder if you'll end up feeling the same. 🫣 The writers are too cowardly to see what's staring us all right in the face, but WE all see the vision. 🙌 (It's kind of funny how I ship Steve & Tommy more than Eddie even though Tommy b a r e l y existed on the show & then when you throw Billy into the mix, that just creates even hotter scenarios/pairings/possible polyamory among the 3, like dhdkdkd they reallyyyy dropped the ball doing nothing with all this juicy material 🫠) I used to like the OG more than I do now but the last time I watched it (when Spiral came out), I was like, "Oh...I don't think so, sorry" fjdkdb. But II > III > VI > X > OG > Spiral (the portion of the franchise that I find tolerable) > 3D > V > IV > Jigsaw (all varying degrees of terrible to me)

That makes sense. I know they had been working on it for sometime cause people kept asking for a UD follow-up for years, it's just unfortunate that it doesn't quite. live up cause the a m o u n t of work that went into UD is still readily apparent all these years later. 👍 Yupppp, exactly. Very much the same principle as when straight/white/etc. are similarly presented as the default. 👎

(Happy belated bday 🥳) I see, I see. Hoping for the best with you expanding your skills. Always fun to give something new like that a chance. 😌 Absolutely agreed. He is VERY accommodating (in both regular interactions & while fucking), but is completely comfortable with his body, as he should be! 🤫 (Oh? What do you have in mind @ another AU 👀)

Happy to be of service. 🫡 You'll have to let me know what you end up watching. Of course @ the festivities. Hope you have fun. 🥰 And thank you. ❤️❤️❤️ lolllll, if only 🫣

yeah i remembered mostly everything but it was like 5am while writing it so i didn’t even see the percentage my phone was at😭

Yess of course🤭 happy to help fuel the fire for Milo’s characters😮‍💨 And exactly!! Kirby is the movie geek of Scream. no contest. I genuinely like that she fits the role but is also her own character in other ways. She pursues a (fake) love interest, we see her house and her personality as a movie geek is tested (and she is proven to be wrong towards the end.) Which is muchhh different than randy who felt like this invincible God at times, helping Sidney with his over the top knowledge of the movies (even more so when he literally goes with her to college and all). Plus, he’s so intense about them that it’s almost comedic. Yeah, her and Anika’s relationship was definitely good in 6, I just wish they didn’t use Anika as one of the only “major” deaths of that movie😭 I totally agree with Chad, he survived these major bleed outs and gets stabbed so much, yet Dewey was stabbed less and to a lesser severity and died?? Insane.

Yes ugh he’s never cum hands free without you there to turn him into a total mess (literally once he cums and keeps going)

Love how it started at number 25 on today’s date.. it’s perfect🫣

Yeah I joke about it because straights obviously pushed conversion therapy on us at one point so it’s funny to joke about doing to them. Make them watch infamous videos such as “right in front of my salad??” and the pumpkin carving one (it’s straight but cropped so they only see the guy sksjsj) Huh… it seems like the only way for them to not fight is to let them both have you…🤭

Can’t wait to read it😼

Exactly! I kind of saw it in Wally because it’s supposed to be a mystery and there are times where he feels almost apathetic to Maddy’s issues, especially when she’s so concerned with the human world that she forgets about him and the rest of the ghosts. I like that they didn’t make him the “villain” (since they’re multiple) but there were layers there that could be expanded in his other roles. I can’t wait to see him finally act as one🫣 maybe in a thanksgiving sequel… one day.. I’ll watch It’s a Wonderful Knife first then!! Exactly, Tommy > Eddie just saying. I found him to be more interesting and having better, hotter dynamics with Steve and Billy over Eddie. Honestly, Saw I has the worst rewatch ability out of any Saw movie because it’s not a fun gorefest like Saw II and beyond, and the twist isn’t really all that crazy after you know what it is. It ends up feeling boring but I can appreciate it🫡 Jigsaw being last is so real. It had potential going into it but the twists suck and the first guy “dying” in that room with the buckets on their heads and the saws made me realize I was going to have some sort of problem with it.

Yesss and it feels like less work went into developing the characters in TQ (even though Jacob is my favorite for being the most flawed of the bunch), there isn’t the same level of quality that UD has. Presentation-wise, it’s better and I found less technical glitches during my multiple playthroughs of the quarry, but yeah… still feels really flat. Yes ugh i hate that “reader” is synonymous with White/straight/female (usually those three specifically) and anything else needs specification. It’s weird that POC in general (or the race) needs to be specified regarding the reader but White doesn’t… i just wish reader could mean that anyone from any background could read it fr

Lmao three months until my next one! He’s super comfortable, he’s taking skinny dipping over bathing suits and would play football in just the gear he needs (no tight pants limiting movement yk) For the other AU I meant that he’s like the only ghost there and/or he’s like your personal ghost so he doesn’t have to bother putting clothes on

Thanks! Hope it’s great for you too!!🖤🖤 I’m seeing the requests come in already and they’re sooo good😮‍💨 Yeah maybe with one bow, some whip cream, and looking like the best christmas dinner desert you could ask for skksjdhd

[akaraboonline]

10 Reasons Why a Great Kiss Is Superior Than Making Love

The act of making ardent love is the best thing there is—almost nothing else. In fact, a great makeout session can compete favorably with rival. Even the most romantic and private moments can sometimes fall short of an amazing kiss. 10 Reasons Why a Great Kiss Is Superior Than Making Love Kissing is much more intimate than love-making. You can have a sexual relationship without actually looking each other in the eyes. Even if you end up closing your eyes as your passion grows, there's always that moment when your gazes connect during a kiss that makes things even hotter. There are more feelings involved. While it's sometimes possible to sleep with someone without experiencing anything at all, to truly kiss someone, there needs to be more. It's a feeling of intimacy that love-making doesn't always have because it's just an expression of adoration and not about getting off. It makes you weak in the knees. Not because you're exerting yourself bodily, either. In addition to being intense and pleasurable, a great kiss can also make you feel the closest of ties to the other person in a way that feels almost otherworldly. It’s all about the anticipation. Unmatched trepidation and coyness are displayed before an embrace. That's not the case with making love because by the time you get to the deed, you're both engaged in an animal-like struggle with each other. The smooch before it is full of tension. It’s so much more soulful. Making love is fundamentally an animalistic and primitive act. The act of kissing, on the other hand, is much more. It's a meeting of the spirit embodied in a physical act, a sharing of breath. It makes you vulnerable. Being so emotionally charged, a passionate kiss may be preferable to sharing a bed due to the sensitivity it entails. The individual looks at you closely before and after the kiss because you are so close to them. A nice kiss is made even better by the fact that you are right there for them to see. It brings you and your partner closer together. Physical proximity brings you closer, but having a passionate kiss also strengthens your relationship. When you exchange saliva with someone, your feelings for them almost always shift. It’s a different kind of connection. A great kiss produces a feeling of soulful euphoria because there are no other physical sensations to depend on. Although your entire bodies aren't necessarily involved, you feel it through your entire being in a way that is often impossible to deny and that sleeping together simply cannot compare to. You can hold onto the feeling a lot longer. A breathtaking embrace will linger in your memory for days. Unlike making love, an amazing kiss will remain on your lips and, when you least expect it, bring back the feelings it left you with. A great kiss can dissolve the whole world. Even when it's for the best, there's always space for the mind to wander when it comes to making love. Nothing can compare to a scorching hot smooch. It seems as though you and your partner are the only two things in the universe from the moment you prepare to kiss until you part ways. Read the full article

[dreamlessinparis]

Refreshing Bliss

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: When a heat wave becomes too much, Bucky finds a way to cool down his lovers and heat them up.

Warning: no plot, just smut, pool sex, dirty talk, explicit language, Bucky and Steve in a pool, fluff, pet names, 18+

If you're a minor, DNI

Please do not repost, publish or translate my work. Reblogs and comments are appreciated! Thank you for reading :)

A/N: Okay I know I said I'd have this up before the weekend was up and it's now Wednesday, I suck 🙈 haha I'm sorry this took longer than anticipated, but I really hope you like it @thefallenbibliophilequote and it quenches your pool needs😘😊 all mistakes are my own.

You could literally feel the sweltering heat through the glass window you were standing in front of. The heatwave was drastically getting worse and nothing was helping. The inner pool was under construction and the outdoor pool was still being built. Why Tony hadn’t built that with the rest of the compound you would never know. 

Alas despite the high-tech facilities of the place, the AC was having technical issues and in the midst of Tony fixing them, the whole compound was slowly melting. Everyone was down to their skivvies and aside from ogling eyes, there wasn’t any touching. It was too hot to even think about. Which was impossible to fathom considering who you were dating. 

Bucky and Steve had become a permanent fixture in your life since the night of your catastrophic mission. The fear of losing you had caused them to reveal their true feelings and they were ecstatic that you reciprocated them.  Truly you couldn't have been happier and that happiness only grew from there. But recently you were avoiding them, those two ran hotter than the average person and in this heat, it was unbearable to deal with. 

"Bunny?" Steve's voice pulled you away from your thoughts and you looked over your shoulder. He looked absolutely delectable, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts that hung dangerously low on his hips. His sculpted chest was beaded with sweat and your mouth watered at the thought of running your tongue over all the hard planes. 

"Hmm?" you hummed, turning to face him fully. "What's up Steve?"

Your eyes remained glued to his glistening pecs and he chuckled softly.

"Eyes up here bunny," Steve began to walk towards you and you backed away until your bare back was pressed against the heated glass. Your eyes reluctantly broke away from his chest, and widened at the intense look in his eyes.

"Steve, no," you said, placing your hands on his chest, keeping him from coming any closer. The muscles jumped at your touch and you couldn't help the moan that escaped you. 

"No?" His eyebrow cocked, challenging your willpower.

You tried your hardest to gain your resolve, shaking your head slowly. "No Steve, it's too hot." 

"We can make it hotter. Come on, sweetheart, you've been avoiding us for well over a week and we miss you," he said, leaning to place soft kisses on your neck. Your arms buckled slightly, allowing him to take a step closer. His lips brushed over a sensitive spot, causing you to sink your nails into the skin of his pecs. 

The groan he let out rumbled through your body and the next thing you knew, he had you pressed hard against the glass and his smoldering body. His thigh found its way between your legs, your shorts barely a barrier. Your hips rocked subconsciously, needing to relieve the ache that had been plaguing you for too long. 

“Steve,” you whimpered, his thigh pressed harder against your core, and your head fell back against the glass with a thud. 

“Yes?” he mumbled into your soft skin. 

“It’s too hot,” you argued weakly, as his warm hand slid underneath your halter top, and cupped your breast. You arched into his touch and for a moment, you thought about saying fuck it and letting him have his way with you. 

But even the pleasure of his body, couldn’t bypass the rising heat, sweat clinging to your skin. It was sticky and hot, but not in a good way. You were getting too irritated to enjoy any of it and Steve felt it, pulling away with a huff. 

“We have to do something about this heat,” he complained, “I can’t keep watching you in these barely-there outfits and not fucking you against every surface.”

You laughed, knowing he was completely right. The heat was going to be the death of everyone in this compound if Tony didn’t figure out a way to make the AC work better.

“I know, Steve. It’s not easy for me either. Watching you and Bucky half-naked, working out in those shorts. It’s torture.” you whined, tossing your hands up in the air in frustration. Steve groaned as the movement caused your breasts to bounce; he adjusted himself, sitting on the bed in a huff. 

Bucky walked in, hair clinging to his face, sweat dripping. He had just finished an outdoor workout with Sam and looked in need of a cold shower. The thought seemed to quickly dissipate as he took in the sight of you still leaning against the glass. The look in his eye told you that he wanted so badly to nail you against it but unlike Steve, he understood that the heat was killing you as much as it was him. Even his metal arm was warm to the touch. 

“Hi Buck,” you smiled, greeting the brunette man. Bucky couldn’t help but smile back. His smile lit up his whole face and it made your heart happy, knowing you could make him so carefree and warm. He thought he was lucky to have you but it was just the opposite. You knew though that god if he couldn’t touch you for another day or two, he was going to lose it. 

“Hey doll, how are you doing?”

“Hot, Buck. She’s hot, we’re all fucking hot and I’m going to lose my mind,” Steve ranted, throwing himself back onto the bed. Bucky chuckled at his frustration, even though he could relate. 

“Thank you, Steve. I hadn’t realized how hot it was,” Bucky joked, walking between the two of you to the set of drawers and grabbing a clean pair of boxers. He dropped his shorts to the ground and your jaw dropped with them. His firm asscheeks were taunting you and you just wanted to bite one. You strayed your glance up to the muscles of his back, moving fluidly under his skin as he walked to the bathroom. He was absolutely a work of art, they both were.

“I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll tell you guys about the idea I had for saving us from the heat,” Bucky continued, turning slightly to face you both. With what can only be considered herculean strength, you focused solely on his face and nowhere lower. “Actually, why wait. You two start packing, I’m taking you on to a surprise location.”

Neither you nor Steve moved, eyeing him warily. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“With a pool and great AC,” he finished and the two of you jumped into motion. Chuckling, Bucky entered the bathroom and shut the door behind him as you and Steve rushed to pack. 

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

The house was in a secluded neighborhood a few miles from the compound. It was a two-story cabin-style house, build near the edge of a mountain; the closest neighbor had to be at least a couple miles away if not more. 

You climbed out of the cool car and were immediately slapped in the face by the humidity. Debating for a moment whether you were going to climb back in or make a run for the front door, you decided on the latter. Snatching the keys out of Bucky’s hand, you ran.

“Oh yeah, doll, that’s nice. It’s not like we’re hot or anything.” Bucky quipped, pulling your suitcase out of the back and reaching in for his. 

You ran backward for a moment as you responded, “I know you’re hot, James. That’s why I’m dating you,” and with a smirk on your face, you winked before making your way inside 

It felt like heaven inside, the coolness licking across your skin and making you shiver. Shiver! You couldn’t the last time you shivered. Doing a happy dance, you spun in a quick circle in excitement, taking in the stunning house you were in. 

The open layout of the first floor allowed you see out the back window to the glistening pool. A beautiful, welcoming, infinity pool with a killer view of the mountainscape and the towns below. Your feet carried you through the house, taking in the rustic decorations and the wide, open kitchen, before padding up the stairs. 

There were so many doors, you didn’t know which one to look in first but the open door at the end of the hall did seem quite promising. You heard the boys downstairs with the luggage, Steve noting how nice it felt in here. Leaning over the railing, you waved down at them.

“Hi Bunny, did you find the bedrooms?” Steve asked an air of excitement in his tone. 

“Bucky, whose place is this?” you questioned, ignoring your boyfriend’s horniness for the time being. You were playing with fire and you knew it but sometimes you preferred Steve a little riled up. Brought his Captain voice out and you got turned on just thinking about it. 

“It’s mine, doll,” Bucky answered, coming up the stairs with the luggage, “I bought it a few months ago but they were renovating parts of it and they finished everything up yesterday.”

He walked past you towards the open door and you trailed behind him. You were on a mission and it involved the bed. The room was so spacious that the California king looked smaller than it was. You were about to go jump on the bed, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the brick wall that Steve called his torso. 

“Uh uh, Bucky and I are going to go for a dip first, since you were so eager to run from us earlier. It’s our turn to run from you,” Steve’s velvety baritone filled your ears. You let out a needy whimper as you tried to grind back into him. His grip on you was too tight for you to even wiggle your hips. 

Bucky came up and gave you a light kiss. “Be a good girl, and get your swimsuit doll. We’ll be downstairs waiting for you.”

Steve released you and you did as you were told, hoping you’d be rewarded thoroughly. 

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Bucky was leaning against the wall of the pool, arms resting on the ledge, head resting backwards. Steve was coming out of the water from his lap when the sliding door opened and both pairs of eyes whirled onto you. The bikini you wore left very little to the imagination and you had bought it on a whim, never thinking you’d wear it. 

However, it was the one that Steve had packed and the only other option was to come down nude. Water droplets clung to Steve’s body like little gems as he began to climb out. He held his hand out to you, pulling you in for a chaste kiss before he headed towards the deep end, doing a backflip into the pool, splashing your legs.

The water was so refreshing and despite how welcoming it looked, swimming was not your thing. You gently lowered yourself to the concrete, sliding your legs into the liquid euphoria. It felt blissful and you thought about going all the way in, but you were over the deep end, and the thought of your feet not touching the ground, freaked you the fuck out. 

Bucky swam over to you, large hands resting on your thighs. 

“You’re not getting in doll?” 

“Swimming’s not my thing,” you replied, shaking your head, “I’ll just wait here patiently, while you guys do your thing.” 

“As pretty as you look perched up there, you’d look even prettier if you were wet,” Steve swam up beside Bucky, placing a kiss on your knee. His fingers trailed up your leg, teasing the edge of your bottoms, “Let me rephrase, wetter.” 

His thumb slipped under them, gliding over your pussy lips and your legs spread wider to give him more access. He rubbed light circles on your clit, as Bucky kissed up and down your other leg. You gasped lightly, eye fluttering shut as you tilted your hips forward. 

Steve increased his speed and Bucky switched between kisses and light nips. You were right on the brink of an orgasm when they both pulled back. Your eyes flew open in shock. The two grinned up at you innocently like they didn’t just edge you.

“If you want more, bunny, you’re gonna have to get in,” Steve taunted, wiggling his fingers at you. 

“Steveee,” you pouted, kicking your legs out to splash him. He shook his head, swimming backward away from you. Bucky sensed your hesitation, squeezing your thigh reassuringly.

“We just want you to have fun with us doll. How about you get in and I carry you around? I promise I won’t let you drown.”

His gray blue eyes were sincere as his hands came to rest on your waist, tugging you light forward. Your hands shot out, gripping his shoulders as you allowed him to pull you in. The contrast of the cold water to the hot air raised goosebumps all over your body. Your arms slid loosely around his shoulders as you became fully submerged. Legs wrapped around his slender waist, you clung to him like a koala. 

You were safe in his arms and you knew it, allowing your body to relax. Tilting your head back, you submerged your hair, letting it float behind you like a mermaid. Bucky’s metal hand held you up by the ass, and he used his other arm to maneuver over to the corner where Steve waited. 

You ran your fingers through Bucky’s wet hair as you enjoyed the glide of the water on your skin. They were right, it felt so nice, but it was even nicer being carried around. Noticing that you were in what would be considered the shallow end, you were surprised to see that even with Bucky’s feet touching the ground, the water came up to his biceps. The pool was definitely not built for people who couldn’t swim or were shorter than 6ft, that was for sure.

Steve traced up your spine, fingers wrapping around the back of your neck so that he could kiss you. The kiss was dirty and obscene, making you roll your body, grinding on Bucky’s abs. Steve’s hard cock was pressed against your ass and Bucky rocked his own hard-on against you to create some friction. Steve’s tongue tangled with yours, his grip shifting to your hair, grabbing a hard handful.

You moaned into his mouth, arching forward, your chest cresting out of the water. Bucky licked a path from the valley of your breasts to your collarbone, before biting his way back down. He nuzzled in between your breasts, placing open-mouthed kisses along the skin.

Since you were pressed so snugly between the two supersoldiers, Bucky felt comfortable enough to slide his metal hand up your torso to meet his flesh hand. Cupping your boobs, he kneaded them roughly, enjoying the way you rolled your body in response. His thumbs hooked to the cloth triangles, moving them to the side, as your breasts popped free of their confines. 

Steve’s hand stayed in your hair as he pulled away to give you both a chance to breathe. He shifted his focus to your neck, using your hair to rotate your face to the side giving him better access. His teeth grazed over the delicate skin, drawing a soft mewl out of you. Bucky’s lips wrapped around your nipple, licking and sucking hungrily before his teeth bit down gently and gave it a tug.

“Bucky, fuck.. just like that,” you moaned, eyes rolling into the back of your head in pleasure.

His metal hand toyed with the other breast, running his thumb over the nipple, hardening it. He pinched it, rolling it between his fingers. His eyes rolled up to look at you and he moaned at the expression of pure ecstasy on your face. The vibrations felt so good and combined with Steve’s assault on your neck, it made you grind your hips harder. 

You could feel the coil tightening when Steve’s hands fell to your waist as he guided you and Bucky to the pool wall. He helped Bucky shift his hold on you, hooking his arms under yours, hands gripping the edge of the pool wall. He then spread your legs wide enough for Bucky to step between them. Steve reached into Bucky’s trunks and grabbed ahold of his dick, pumping him. 

Bucky was now attached to your other nipple, and Steve’s hand made him moan again. His hips bucked and Steve groaned, using his other hand to untie the sides of your bikini. Pulling Bucky out completely, he guided the tip through your swollen folds, coating him in your slick. 

Bucky released your nipple with a pop, burying his head in your neck as Steve lined him up with your pulsing entrance. You moaned loudly as Bucky slid in, the burn of the strength had you digging your nails into both of their biceps.

“You’re so fucking tight, doll. I don’t know if I’m gonna fit,” Bucky grunted, into your neck.

“Oh we’re gonna make it fit, Buck,” Steve growled, “Our girl’s been deprived too long, she needs to be filled to the brim.”

“Don’t stop, Bucky. I can take it,” you begged, head falling back as his hips jerked, inching deeper.

Steve stroked Bucky’s hair as the brunette rocked his hips slowly, the pain turning quickly to pleasure. Bucky kissed your neck, then along the edge of your jaw before capturing your lips. 

Steve gripped Bucky’s ass, guiding him to go faster, watching as each hard thrust made your tits bounce. You felt so full, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucked you hard. The feeling was so good, the cool water licking along your heated skin, waves caused by the rhythm of Bucky’s movements. 

“How’s that feel Bunny?” Steve asked, stroking himself languidly. He had pulled his trucks off and they were now floating beside Bucky’s on the water. 

Bucky’s growls were low in your ear and the sound of them was making you throb. The fact that your body was causing this god of a man to fall apart, made you feel far too powerful. Your hand tugged on Bucky’s locks, making him groan and fuck you faster.

“So good, Steve,” you panted, “Buck, right there, baby, right fucking there!” Bucky’s hips angled according to your words, hitting your sweet spot with such ferocity that your climax hit out of nothing. Your toes curled hard as your thighs shook from the intensity of the orgasm and its aftershocks. Bucky’s hips kept going as he fucked you through it, the way you were clenching around him made him cum shortly after. He groaned as he shot ropes of cum into you, painting your walls. 

The two of you breathed heavily, Buck’s head resting on your heaving chest. As much as Steve enjoyed the show he was getting impatient so grabbing the back of Buck’s neck, he gently pulled him off you. A sad sigh escaped you as his cock slid out of you. Steve’s arm quickly wrapped around your waist, not allowing you to sink. 

“Don’t worry baby, I’m going to fill you in just a moment,” he shushed you, kissing your temple reassuringly. Bucky’s hands worked quickly to rid you of your top, tossing it over his shoulder to join the rest. “Buck, sit on the ledge. Bunny is going to suck your dick, while I fuck her from behind. Isn’t that right baby?”

“Yes, Steve,” you nodded rapidly, excited by the prospect. You were insatiable when it came to these two and they could fuck you unconscious every day of the week, no problem.

Bucky chuckled at your enthusiasm as he pulled himself up on the ledge.  His cock was already semi erect again. Thank god for that serum. 

Steve held you to him, back to his chest, placing light kisses to your shoulder as he waited for Bucky to get situated. Your boys were so careful with you and you loved them that much more for it. He swam forward until you could hold onto Bucky’s thighs, running your hands over the coiled muscle. Buck’s hand stroked your cheek as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

He smiled wide, loving the sight of you in front of him, leaning down to kiss you deeply. Steve held the back of your thighs up, positioning himself before pushing in. 

“I swear nothing compares to this tight little pussy, bunny. I could stay buried in your warmth all fucking day,” Steve said, bottoming out with a swift thrust of his hips. The stretch of him was easier to adjust to after Bucky, but a slight burn still remained.

 Bucky’s lips muffled your sounds of pleasure. You clenched around Steve, your warmth enveloping him and he moaned loudly. His thrusts found a steady rhythm and you whimpered as you separated from Bucky, resting your head on his thigh to collect yourself for a moment. 

It was getting hard to focus, each drive of his hips knocking the breath out of you. Your fingers languidly ghosted over Bucky’s shaft, making him gasp. Needing him to make more noise, you gathered your strength and turned your attention to the gorgeous cock, the red tip angry and weeping. Your fingers enclosed around it, squeezing lightly, a jolt of excitement ran through you when you heard his breath catch. Collecting the gathered droplets of precum on your thumb, you maintained eye contact as you sucked it off, savoring his salty taste. Bucky’s gaze was heated as the anticipation for your next move tightened his whole body.

Your tongue darted out to circle the tip of Bucky’s hardening cock, your hand wrapped around the base, pumping him. Bucky bit back a moan as your lips wrapped around him. Hollowing out your cheeks, you took him further down your throat. Bucky’s hand found the back of your head as he followed the rhythm of your head. 

“Oh you’re driving me nuts,” Bucky panted, “I know you can handle all of me, doll. Come on, just a little more.” he pushed down lightly to guide you further.

The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and you fought your gag reflex as you swallowed him a little further. Your nose nuzzled the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes before letting your head come up and sinking back down, bobbing faster. 

Steve began to thrust his hips at a brutal speed, hands digging into your hips, holding you buoyant. He had been dreaming of this moment for weeks now and he was so impatient after watching Bucky fuck you. You moaned making Bucky groan and his grip tightened on your hair.  The slurping noises coming out your mouth, combined with the slapping of water spurred both men on. 

Bucky’s hips began to buck, making you choke a little. You flattened your tongue and relaxed your jaw, allowing him to take control. He thrusted into your mouth, holding your head with both hands. Tears streamed down your cheeks, as lines of spit escaped the corners of your lips. You did your best to breathe through your nose, but it became difficult when Bucky buried himself so far down your throat, holding you there for a moment before pulling back. 

His grip eased on your hair allowing you to wrap your hand around his cock, pulling it free from your mouth with a pop, gasping a little. The way your face was flushed, drool and precum all over your chin, light gasps falling from your lips, you looked absolutely cockdrunk and Bucky almost came at the sight of you. He ran his thumb along your bottom lip and you kissed it sweetly, making him smile. Steve took that moment to roll his hips, angling them to sheathe deeper in you.

“Ah shit Steve,” your mouth fell open, gasping as Steve hit the spot that makes you see stars. You clung to Bucky’s thighs as the power of Steve’s ruts, made your breasts hit against the pool tiles. You were a whimpering mess, eyes rolling in the back of your head as you chanted Steve’s name. Steve’s hips slamming against yours harder and harder.

As pretty as the noises coming from you were, Bucky needed to feel your warm mouth on him again. He placed his thumb on your tongue, pulling it out a bit further before he slapped his cock against it. 

He always felt so good in your mouth, the heavy girth of him stretching your mouth wide. You licked a broad stripe down the shaft, tracing the thick vein. Truly you could spend hours worshiping Bucky’s cock; Steve’s was just as amazing but the breathy noises that Buck made were unmatched. 

Steve bit down on your shoulder, as your cunt gripped him snugly. Bucky’s cock twitched against your tongue, you could tell he was close, so you took him back in your mouth, deep throating him to the best of your ability. His eyes slid shut, head lolling back. The feeling was intense; you were stuffed from both ends and your body was overwrought with pleasure. The knot in your stomach was beginning to unravel with every drag of Steve’s veiny cock. 

Steve groaned in your ear, as your orgasm washed over you, feeling your walls pulse.

“Fuck bunny, you’re milking me so good. I’m not gonna last much longer!” The rapid flutters of your silky walls were enough to send him over the edge right after you, flooding you with hot cum deep with each drive of his hips. You screamed around Bucky’s cock, triggering his climax, and his spend shot down your throat. 

Bucky slowly pulled out of you, cradling your head to move onto his thigh as you caught your breath. He leaned back on his hands doing the same. Steve slowly left your warmth, the emptiness making you whimper. He held you carefully shifting you around so you were resting against his chest.  

“I missed you both,” you whispered into his chest. “Can we take a nap now?”

The pair chuckled, as Steve carried you out of the pool, and Bucky wrapped a warm towel around your back. 

“Sure doll, we can nap,” Bucky said, kissing the top of your head.

“And then after we can break in the bed,” Steve stated. 

“And the kitchen,” Bucky added.

“Don’t forget the shower,” you chimed in, sleepily.

“Might as well just ruin the whole house,” Steve laughed, going inside, Bucky sliding the door shut after you.

“Sounds like a plan to me. What do you think doll?”

“Mhmm, great plan. But first, we nap,” you concluded.

Taglist: @jobean12-blog @caffiend-queen @fuckandfluff @blackwiddows @sweeterthanthis

[hstyleshoney]

Luck On Tour

A/N: Soo, this is my little thing for @oh-honey-styles​ HSFICSLAM 2 challenge. I’ve been struggling to write something for a while now and this kind of just caught my attention because it seemed like fun. It’s nothing too serious or fancy. Just a little bit of fun. If one person enjoys it then I’m happy, bc I just had a good time writing again. 

Let me know your thoughts, it would mean a lot!!! xx 

WC: 2.7K // a cheesy story about good luck charms and love 

“You’re jealous aren’t you?”

“What?” 

You blinked and turned around to glance at Charlotte who was looking at you with a smug smile. She raised her eyebrows knowingly and nodded her head in the direction you had just been glaring.

“I told you this was gonna happen.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you told her, taking a deep breath, before forcing a strangled laugh from your chest. “Why would I be jealous?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Charlotte hummed and tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought before continuing. “Maybe because you two have been sleeping together for a couple of weeks now and you won’t admit it’s more than a ‘friends with benefits’ type of thing.”

You opened your mouth to tell her she was wrong, but Charlotte stopped you by putting her hand up and adding; “And now you’ve been glaring at poor Rosie for the last ten minutes for doing his hair - which, you know, is her job.”  

“I have not.”

“Sure,” she chuckled mockingly and pressed her lips together to stop herself from grinning. “If you say so.”

Instead of replying you turned around to look at Harry again. He sat across the room from you, getting ready for the last and final show of his tour, with Rosie standing in front of him. Your eyes went to her hands as she ran her fingers through his brown hair and twirled his locks around her fingers to give him a little more definition.

And you had no reason to be jealous - but maybe you were? Just a little bit. Just the tiniest little bit jealous.

Because you now knew just how soft his hair was and that morning you had been the one to soothingly run your hands through it as he rested his head on your chest, cuddling up to you and holding you close.

Still, you really shouldn’t be jealous, because Rosie was only doing her job as his hairstylist and there was absolutely no reason for you to be jealous. None. Nada. Zero.

But then there was also that interviewer who, in your opinion, sat way too close to him and touched his arm a little too often. Laughing and flirting with him like no one else was around. It left a sour taste in your mouth, although you would never admit that outloud. Especially not to Charlotte.

It was only supposed to be a bit of fun. It was never supposed to get to this point. You were only supposed to be the tour photographer. Harry had liked the pictures you had taken of him during one of his Jingle Bell Ball performances a while back. And when his regular photographer wasn’t able to join him on the North American part of his tour, due to a conflict in her schedule, his team reached out and asked if you were available.

You were.

So a couple weeks later you were on a plane, traveling across the Atlantic, and ended up befriending one of the world's biggest pop stars.

How you ended up naked in his bed after the show in Chicago was still something you were trying to figure out.

It kind of just... happened.

One of the crew members had turned 40 and Harry had arranged a big birthday party for him after the show. You weren’t supposed to be working but you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling out your camera, the moment was there and you wanted to capture everyone's good spirits. Harry came up to you, a plate of cake in one hand and a drink in the other, forcing you to take it from him and telling you to put the camera away and have some fun.

One drink turned into another, and another turned into a third, and the third turned into a shot of tequila. It was all just downhill from there.

As the night went on you found yourself being drawn closer to Harry and when his fingers danced across the skin on your thigh you knew there was no going back. An hour later you stumbled into his hotel room, and his hands and lips were all over you as you ripped his shirt from his body before the door was even fully closed behind you.

The next morning you woke up with a raging headache and a belly full of regret because it was terribly unprofessional of you to sleep with the artist you were supposed to be working for. You were sure you were going to be told to pack your bags and go back home.

Of course that didn’t happen and Harry was nothing but sweet. He ordered both of you breakfast and let you sleep off your hangover in his bed while he got himself ready for the day.

Then it kind of just became a thing, because life on the road could be a little lonely and your pink vibrator wasn’t always enough.

It didn't bring you the same warmth Harry did.

And he didn’t seem to mind sharing a bed with you either, even if he sometimes complained about your cold toes rubbing against his legs.

So, really, who were you to say no?

But perhaps you should’ve because now the tour was coming to an end and you had no idea where the two of you stood and the uncertainty of it all was making you jealous of his hairstylist touching him - not ideal.

Which was why you decided to remove yourself from the situation and went to get your camera ready instead. You found yourself a quiet spot in a small corner next to the stage and tried to ignore the immature thoughts about Harry and Rosie running through your mind.

You shouldn't be jealous. It was stupid. Besides you and Harry weren’t anything exclusive. Sure, he made your heart beat twice as fast and made you feel things you had only ever read about in novels before, but you hadn’t told him any of that yet.

And you weren’t really sure how to tell him any of that. 

Should you even tell him?

Telling him would make it real and what if he didn’t feel the same... that would certainly be the end of whatever was going on between the two of you. 

But it was possible that the end of the tour also represented the end of the two of you, so, maybe you didn’t even have anything to lose by telling him?

You groaned to yourself and ran a hand over your face in frustration, eyes squeezed shut as you tried to drown out your thoughts with the sound from all the screaming fans in the already full-packed arena. The anticipation was high and usually it made your whole body itch with excitement as well, there was just so much love and adoration going around for one person. It was impossible to not be part of it, but tonight it only made your belly twist with anxiety.

You were going to miss it. The loud crowds. The anticipation. The joy radiating off of everyone in the arenas. The ringing in your ears as you got into bed hours later. The sparkle in Harry’s eyes as he looked through the pictures you’d taken and saw the happy faces of his fans.

You were going to miss him. Harry.

It was one of the reasons you hadn’t asked him how he felt about the two of you. If he turned around and said that your late night rendezvous was only a bit of fun while you were on the road... Well, it was something you weren’t ready to hear just yet.

Fuck.

It was also at that exact moment that Harry decided to show up, only a couple minutes before he was due to go out on stage.

“There you are,” he called out when he spotted you, your green trousers and matching striped blazer making you stand out from your little hideout in the dark corner. You watched as he said something to Jeff before making his way over to you. “Been lookin’ for ya for bloody ages - thought I’d have to go on stage without a goodluck from my little ladybug.”

You tried your best to ignore the way your whole body tingled from his little nickname for you; a nickname that started after he noticed the small little ladybug ring you always wore on your right index finger. You had had it since you were twelve and you just couldn’t get rid of it. Ever since you first saw it in the small thrift shop in your hometown it had been your good luck charm.

And once Harry asked about it and learned that you wore it every single day for good luck, he decided it was also the reason why the North American tour had been going so well and didn’t go on stage before you had wished him a good show.

“Well, here I am.”

Harry frowned and stopped in his tracks. You couldn’t look at him, the high waisted trousers and sparkling suit jacket he was wearing made your already racing heart beat even faster.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting ready,”  you muttered and nodded down to the camera in your hands. You didn’t mean to sound so bitter but the words fell from your lips before you could stop yourself. “Are you all set for the last show then? Maybe you should go find Rosie again to make sure the hair is good.”

You regretted it as soon as you said it, your cheeks turning hot as the last phrase slipped from your tongue.

That was stupid.

His eyes burned through your skin and you knew there was no way he was going to let your snide little remark go. Stupid stupid stupid.

For a moment you contemplated just making a run for it so you could hide in the lively crowd for the whole show and then simply just disappear into the night, so you wouldn’t ever have to look Harry Styles in the eyes ever again.

But something stopped you.

A low, almost inaudible, chuckle fell from the man in front of you and you glanced up at him just as his lips curled into a small smirk, his dimple appearing on his cheek, and you felt your face grow even hotter. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

Harry held his hands up innocently.

“I’m not looking at you in any way,” he said, still smirking, and let his tongue poke out to lick his pink lips.

“Yes, you are! I don’t like that-” you started and waved your finger at him, “Whatever it is you're doing with your face.”

“Are you jealous?” Harry asked, ignoring your frustrated little stomp, and took a step closer to you.

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous,” you said, taking a shaky breath and a step backwards away from him, making both of you disappear in the shadows of the dark corner where you had previously been hiding as he followed and continued to come closer.

“You are, aren’t you?”

“I’m not.”

“It’s fine if you are.”

“You really need to stop or I’ll only snap pictures of you from your worst angles tonight.”

Not that he really had any bad angles but that was beside the point. It was absolutely infuriating how he could see right through you so easily.

Harry laughed and took one final step forward, trapping you between his body and the wall. His familiar perfume washed over you and you wanted to bathe in it forever. He always smelled so damn good, and for a moment you forgot about your childish behavior from a couple seconds ago and let yourself get lost in the green of his eyes

“You know you have nothing to be jealous of, right?” Harry told you and reached out to push a strand of your hair away from your face. His fingers gently brushed across the apple of your cheek, making your heart flutter and head fuzzy. He was no longer smirking at you but his lips were still turned upwards. Instead of the smug smirk he was now looking down at you with a soft smile - the same smile you had gotten so used to seeing first thing in the morning, and you were sure you wouldn’t mind if you got to see it every morning for the rest of your life.

“Do I?” you breathed out nervously. 

“Well, when we’re back in London I'm gonna make sure to finally take you on a proper date and-”

“What?”

You didn’t mean to cut him off. It just took you completely off guard and the words fell from your lips before you could think twice about it. “You want to take me out on a date in London?”

That caught him a little off guard.

“Oh,” Harry faltered a little and scratched the back of his neck. For the first time there was a hint of nervousness across his otherwise confident features. “I kind of just assumed we would, eh, we don’t have to- I mean if you, um- if you don’t- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted to continue things back home.”

And you probably really should’ve said something then, but you were at a loss for words. It was the first time either of you had ever mentioned something about seeing each other after the tour was done. You finally had an answer to the question that had swirled around in your head for days and had created the uncertainty and jealousy in the first place. Just like that.

You had spent all day trying to decide whether you should tell him your feelings for him had changed and admit you wanted to see him more, and there he was -- already planning for your first official date.

You really needed to say something.

But someone else beat you to it.

“H!” It was Jeff. “You’ve got less than a minute until you have to get on stage, c’mon!”

Harry turned around and gave his friend a thumbs up, to let him know he had heard him, before he looked down at you again.

“Alright, duty calls I guess,” he said and gave you a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Again, I’m sorry.”

And you knew you had to say something because you couldn’t let him do his final show thinking you didn’t actually want to continue seeing him. Especially when it was the opposite of what you wanted.

“Wait,” you burst out and reached for his hand to stop him from leaving. “I do. I do want to see you.”

Harry’s dimple made another appearance and there was so much more you wanted to say to him. You wanted to tell him how thankful you were to have met him. How happy he made you. How safe you felt in his company. How you could always be yourself around him. How he actually had no right to complain about your cold feet because his own were even colder.

But Jeff beat you again.

“Harry!” He shouted. “Get your ass over here!”

“We probably shouldn’t talk about this right now,” Harry chuckled and pulled you a little closer, his hand still in yours.

“Probably not,” you mumbled and watched as Harry ran his fingers over your dainty little ladybug ring, before lifting your hand to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to it. His warm lips lingered for a couple seconds on your skin and you could have melted into a puddle right there and then.

“Wish me luck then,” he smiled, his lips still brushing against the skin on top of your hand.  

“You don’t need it.”

“Shhh, don’t ruin it now,” he shushed and shook his head lightly. “S’the last show. I need my ladybug luck.”

“If you need your ladybug luck,” you began quietly and pulled your hand away from his. Harry pouted and reached for your hand to have the little ladybug on your ring between you again, but you were quicker and put your arm around his waist. “Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

A grin broke out across his face and he didn’t waste any time before pressing his lips to yours in a soft kiss that filled your belly with butterflies. Warmth consumed your whole body as you leaned into the kiss and Harry smiled against your lips. You really could’ve stayed in that moment forever.

“Harry!”

Jeff called his name again.

Harry let out an excessive sigh as he broke your kiss and leaned his forehead against yours. His breath warm on your face and as he pressed his lips to yours again in a short peck you realised you were still smiling as well. 

Then he was off to do his final show. 

And despite the thousands of ear piercing screams that filled the arena as he entered the stage the sweet little “Good luck” you shouted after him was the loudest one. 

.

<3 

[shin-city]

Attentive Detention [Denki Kaminari x Reader]

a/n: kaminari is aged up to 18! (see end for more notes!)

genre: smut

word count: 3.8k

tags: sexual content, pwp, a sprinkle of dubcon, a pinch of humiliation, degrading, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, squirting, quirk play, overstimulation, Denki is a sadist lol

~

“This is all your fault,” you grumbled, glaring at the back of the blonde head of hair sitting in front of you. He instantly turned around, returning a glare just as icy.

“My fault? You’re the one who can’t take a joke,” he whispered angrily.

You rolled your eyes, dropping your pen that had stilled in the middle of writing, “I will not fight with Denki Kaminari,” for the 59th time out of 100.

“Okay, for the thousandth time- shocking me in the middle of class is not a joke.”

Yes, your classmate had an annoying habit of using his quirk on you at the most inappropriate of times, despite how many times you’d told him to stop doing it. He would always get a kick out of how flustered you’d get before halfheartedly smacking him and telling him off.

You both turned your attention to the front of the classroom once you heard a throat clear, being met with the hard stare of your teacher.

“Surely the two of you haven’t finished your sentences already,” Mr. Aizawa declared, raising a brow at the both of you.

“S-sorry, Mr. Aizawa. I’m almost done,” Kaminari smiled at him, although looking over his shoulder you could see that he’d only written, “I will not fight with y/l/n y/n,” 20 times before beginning to doodle random images all over his paper.

Following your outburst in class earlier that day after Denki had shocked you one time too many, Mr. Aizawa was fed up with the two of you bickering and gave you both detention. He’d lectured you on how it was important for you to get along seeing as you were teammates, and made the two of you promise to stop fighting with each other. He’d also assigned the two of you to write it 100 times each.

Aizawa stood up, eyeing both of you momentarily before shuffling lazily toward the door. “I’m going to the teachers lounge for a bit. I trust that the two of you will behave, because if you don’t,” he mumbled, pausing to glare at both of you over his shoulder. “You’ll be writing those sentences 1,000 times each.” He pulled open the door, adjusting his scarf before making his exit.

Kaminari waited until Aizawa’s footsteps could no longer be heard before spinning around entirely in his desk to face you. He had that signature smirk of his on his face, which could only mean he was up to no good.

“Turn around,” you said firmly. “We’re never gonna hear the end of it if he comes back and we’re arguing.”

He chuckled at that, snatching your pen from your hand and tucking it in his pocket. “Why do we have to argue? Can’t we just talk?”

You clenched your teeth, your hands balling up into fists as you glared at him. You knew you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of getting you so riled up, but he was so annoying sometimes that it was hard not to.

“Maybe if you didn’t do stupid shit like that, we could just talk,” you spat, holding your hand out in front of him. “Now give it back.”

He looked down at your palm, a sinister smirk on his lips. You should’ve known what was coming next, but you didn’t register it quickly enough and before you knew it he was pressing his index finger against your palm, a small shock diffusing throughout your hand.

“D-Denki!” you whined, immediately pulling your hand away and dramatically clutching it to your chest as if it hurt that badly. It didn’t; in fact, it almost felt... good, but you would never tell him that.

He threw his head back in laughter, but returned his gaze to you in time to see your cheeks flush. That was his favorite part about teasing you.

“It’s not funny,” you mumbled through a bitten lip, grateful for the desk that covered your thighs, which had involuntarily clenched together the moment he touched you.

As Kaminari’s laughter died down, you noticed him staring at you intently, his smirk fading along with his laughter. His eyelids lowered ever so slightly, and this new expression he’d taken on had you blushing even more. His eyes glinted with mischief as usual, but...there was something else...

“Hey, why’re you looking at me like that....,” you seethed, turning to look away from him as you cheeks grew hotter. You tensed up when his hands extended toward you, but you relaxed a little when they grabbed the edges of your desk.

“You know,” he began, leaning over your desk until your faces were just a couple of inches away from each other. “I think you might like when I do that to you.”

Your eyes widened as you gawked at him, sitting back in your seat in an attempt to close the distance between you, but he only leaned in closer.

“What are you talking about? What’s gotten into you?”

It was like a switch flipped in him or something. He’d tease you all the time, yes, but never like this. But Denki had realized something. He’d noticed how your brows furrowed when he touched you...how you tensed up; how you’d whimper his name, practically moaning it. How had he not noticed it before?

You liked when he electrocuted you.

“What’s gotten into me? What’s gotten into you?”

He smirked as he tightened his grip on your desk, the legs scraping against the floor as he slid it away from you. You didn’t even try to stop him. All you could do was stare pathetically as he moved it until it was no longer between you. The only thing separating you two was the back of his chair, which he slouched over seductively. Slowly, he reached a hand toward you, and you watched in anticipation, frozen in your seat. He gave you ample time to stop him, but you never even attempted to. Before you knew it, his fingertips were brushing against your bare knee, just below your uniform skirt. You could see the electricity buzz around his fingers as he gave you a light shock.

You bit your lip in a failed attempt to hold back a whimper, your thighs pressing together which Denki could now fully see.

“It’s just as I thought,” he chuckled, pulling his hand away and turning back around. You thought he was done messing with you until he spun his whole chair around, now facing you with nothing in between you. He scooted closer and closer, until your knees were almost touching. “You’re so naughty, y/n,” he mused.

Your mouth fell open at his comment, not knowing how to respond. Usually you’d call him a name or two and hit him a couple of times, but that was when he was teasing you playfully. Now, he was teasing you lustfully and your body was responding to him better than your own mouth could.

“I...I...,” was all you could sputter, becoming very aware of the dampness between your legs. You desperately wanted him to touch you again, your worries about crossing that line with him settling in the back of your mind.

“You what?” he asked, sinister smirk playing on his lips. “C’mon, spit it out. You always have so much to say, don’t you?”

His fingertips graced your knee again as he shocked you, this time giving it a little bit more than he normally did. He was careful not to over do it; testing your limits to see how you’d react to different wattages.

“Denki,” you whined, becoming very aware of the growing dampness between your legs. “Please.”

“Please what?” he retorted. “Tell me what you want.”

You tried to find the words, but you couldn’t concentrate on anything except his hand on you. Even if you could manage to utter a comprehensible sentence, you weren’t even sure what you’d say. You weren’t sure if you were pleading him to go or stop. A part of you knew you shouldn’t be letting things get this far with him, especially in the classroom. But another part of you was eager for more; craving his touch. You were curious as to just how far this would go, as was he.

Following your silence, his hand spread out to firmly grip your thigh, fingertips digging into your flesh as he upped the wattage just a little bit more. That was all it took to break through what was left of your restraint, a moan emanating past your lips before you could stop it. Your thighs clenched once again, this time trapping a part of his hand between them as your body trembled.

A wicked grin spread across his face as he watched your body shudder under his touch. “Look at you...such a dirty girl.”

Your stomach did somersaults as he stood up, his hand never leaving your skin as he loomed over you. When you lifted your gaze to look at him, his face was only centimetres from yours, his hair tickling your check as he hovered his lips just over your ear. “I wonder...” he began, his free hand now gripping your other thigh. “Just how many times I made you wet from doing this...”

He activated his quirk through his other hand, both of them now shocking your thighs rhythmically. He snickered menacingly as you cried out his name, your hand reaching out to clutch his arm because you felt as though you’d fall over if you didn’t.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.” His warm breath fanned your ear as he whispered sinfully into it, and another series of shocks rattled your body. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“Denki...,” you mewled, clutching desperately at his sleeve. “We... someone might walk in.”

“And? What, are you worried someone might see what a little slut you’re being for me right now?”

Kaminari’s fingers inched higher up your thighs, his fingertips now underneath the hem of your uniform skirt. You wondered how far he’d go, because despite your feeble warning about getting caught, you knew you weren’t going to stop him. You both did.

“Do you want me to stop? All you have to do is say so,” he mumbled into your neck before placing a soft kiss on the delicate skin just below your ear. His hands crept further up until they disappeared underneath your skirt, though he no longer shocked you; waiting for you to tell him what he already knew- what you couldn’t deny any longer.

“N-no...,” you uttered, fidgeting as his tongue darted out to lick at your neck. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all the confirmation he needed to resume his ministrations on your thighs, buzzing at them more feverishly after your admission had caused his pants to grow tighter. He detached his lips from your neck, peppering kisses across your cheek until he was at the corner of your mouth. He pulled away from you slightly, gazing hungrily at your lips. He desperately wanted to feel them on his, but he wanted you to initiate it. He wanted you to show him just how much you wanted him.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, his tone playful, but demanding as well.

You didn’t hesitate, meeting him halfway and closing the gap between the two of you. You pressed your lips against his, wrapping a hand around the back of his neck, and another in his soft, blonde locks. He returned the kiss with fervor, immediately deepening it and sliding his tongue into your mouth. He swallowed your moans, returning them every so often when you’d roll your tongue slowly against his, or when you’d tug at his lip particularly hard. He’d removed his hands from underneath your skirt and placed them on your knees, gripping them needily. He broke the kiss shortly thereafter, attaching his lips to your throat instead.

“Open,” he commanded, tapping at your knees to signal you to open your legs for him. You complied, blushing as you shifted in your seat into the lewd position. You grew even more flustered when he knelt before you, his face right in front of your aching core. He drummed his buzzing fingers back up your thighs, gazing up at you as he gripped the hem up of your skirt and slowly hiked it up towards your hips- just enough to see a peak of your dampening underwear.

You averted your gaze from him when he began to snicker, licking a stripe on your inner thigh. “I can’t believe how wet you are already.”

The way he kept laughing at you had you soaking your panties even more. It was embarrassing yes, but something about his teasing tone sent shivers down your spine and straight to your dripping cunt.

You gasped when Denki pressed his thumb against your clothed clit, rubbing small circles through the wet patch on your panties. Small moans broke past your lips as he played with the speed and pressure, watching your face to gauge your reactions.

“I bet you want me to shock you here, don’t you?” He paused the movements of his thumb and looked up at you, indicating that the question wasn’t rhetorical, and that he was waiting on an answer.

“Y-Yes,” you whimpered, pathetically grinding yourself against his hand. “Please, Denki, I want it.”

He laughed against your thigh, his hands disappearing under your skirt to grip the waistband of your panties.

“Look at you- begging, and I didn’t even have to ask you to. You really are a slut, aren’t you y/n?” He dragged your panties down your thighs painfully slow, before letting them drop around your ankles. “Say it. Tell me what a little slut you are so that I can treat you like one.”

Kaminari’s hands gripped your thighs firmly as he spread them even further, your dripping heat glistening in front of him like a meal waiting to be devoured, and oh, was he going to devour you.

Your face went crimson at his vulgar words, but you still uttered what he wanted to hear. “I’m a slut, Kaminari. I’m such a s-slut. Your slut.”

“Yeah, that’s right you are,” he mused from between your legs before leaning in to lick along your folds. Your body trembled immediately. He hadn’t even used his quirk there yet, but still you felt like every one of your nerve endings were live wires. He continued to lap at your cunt, relishing in the taste of your essence that had accumulated there. He mumbled something about how sweet you were, but you couldn’t quite hear him over your own moans.

He began to softly flick his tongue against your clit, shocking you both figuratively and literally as he channeled his quirk through his tongue.

“Ohhh my f-, Denki~” you cried out, bucking your hips against his face. He grunted and groaned into your pussy, lapping at you faster and harder and zapping at you just the same. There was no way you were going to last much longer like this, and he could tell you were nearing your climax, prompting him to wrap his lips around your clit and suck- hard, buzzing at the nub with his tongue.

Your hands flew to his mop of blonde hair, tugging at his roots as you ground your pussy against his mouth. “Denki- ahh~, I’m g-gonna c-”

“I know, baby,” he murmured into your cunt. “ Cum for me, my naughty girl. Let me taste you.”

Your mouth fell open and your moans caught in your throat as you teetered on the edge of your climax. The lewd sounds of Denki sucking and licking at your pussy filled the classroom. He shocked you for a particularly long period of time, and that was all it took to push you over the edge. You cried out his name as you came on his mouth and chin, Denki lapping it up diligently.

“So good,” he groaned into your cunt, not letting up even a little bit. “So sweet.”

You tugged at his hair in an attempt to pull him away, your clit feeling over sensitive and over stimulated, but he didn’t budge. In fact, he only devoured you more feverishly.

“W-Wait I... c-can’t, it’s too much Denki,” you mewled, trying to close your legs but he wouldn’t allow it.

“Oh, baby,” he smiled into your pussy, kissing your swollen clit. “Yes you can. Because you’re my little slut, aren’t you? That’s what you said, right?”

He spared you no time to respond, sinking two fingers whirring with electricity into your dripping heat. He pressed them against that soft, spongy spot inside you, rubbing at it as he shocked you rhythmically.

The combination of electricity on both your clit and your g-spot had you seeing stars and grabbing fistfuls of his hair as you moaned out for him.

You felt him snicker into your core. “Don’t you think you’re being a little loud? Someone might hear you.”

You weren’t even paying attention as he dragged his free hand down your leg, his fingers hooking around your panties that now hung around one of your ankles. He pulled it off, detaching his mouth from your clit as he did so. You opened your mouth to protest, and he used the opportunity to reach up and stuff your balled up panties into your mouth.

He stood up, slouching so that he was eye level with you, never once ceasing the driving of his fingers into your cunt.

“So cute~” he mused, pushing a third finger into you like it was nothing. “I bet you can taste your sweet little pussy now, too. I’d ask how it tastes...but I guess you can’t answer me, huh...”

You whimpered and whined pathetically around the makeshift gag, saliva dribbling out of the corner of your mouth as your body shook with pleasure. You were so embarrassed, and yet so aroused all at once. It didn’t help that Kaminari darted his tongue out to lewdly lick up the small stream of saliva that escaped your mouth, before pressing his lips to your ear.

“Let’s make you cum one more time, yeah? Before Mr. Aizawa comes back and sees you like this. Though, you’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?”

You blushed as you shook your head feverishly and mumbled around your panties, denying the accusation.

“No? Is that why your tight, little pussy clenched around my fingers when I said that?” he snickered, nibbling on your earlobe before growling how dirty you were into your ear.

The blend of his fingers and sinful words had you peaking again, so close to coming, and he could sense it too. He upped the wattage of his fingers just a little bit more, smirking into your skin as you writhed beneath him.

“Cum for me, baby,” he moaned sensually into your ear, stopping to kiss your jaw. “Cum on my fingers like the good slut you are.”

The room filled with the squelching of his fingers pounding relentlessly into you. You reached a hand out to grip his bicep, digging your nails into his arm. He used his free hand to rub furiously at your clit, pushing you over the edge. Before you even knew what was going on, a clear fluid was streaming from your fluttering cunt, soaking your thighs.

He didn’t stop until the squirting did, watching in awe as you spurted out so much.

If you weren’t so dazed by your mind-numbing orgasm, you would’ve been embarrassed. There was no point in being shameful anyway. Denki proudly licked up every last drop from your cunt and thighs.

He suckled on your neck as he waited for you to calm down, your convulsing body settling into a light tremor as you came down from the euphoric feeling.

He pulled the damp panties out of your mouth, and replaced them with his cum-covered fingers, discreetly tucking your underwear in his pocket as you sucked your flavor off of him.

“Who knew you were so naughty,” he smirked at you, his cock growing harder as he took in your drained expression. “Imagine all the fun we could’ve been having.”

He desperately wanted to fuck you; to feel your tight pussy wrap around his cock like it did his fingers. But it’d have to wait for another time, for your teacher would probably be back any minute now.

“Denki...,” you whimpered around his fingers before he pulled them out of your mouth. “That was so-”

Your eyes widened as you heard heavy footsteps trudging down the hallway, a telltale sign that your teacher was returning. Denki found amusement in your horrified expression, grinning wickedly at you.

“I’d keep those legs closed if I were you. Wouldn’t want to give Mr. Aizawa a free show, now would you?” he chuckled, returning your desk to its place in front of you before sitting in his own seat.

He turned around to look at you once more, a smirk playing on his lips. “Oh, and you’d better hope he doesn’t see what a mess you’ve made, either.”

Kaminari looked down at the floor below you, and your eyes widened in horror as you followed his gaze to the small puddle under you, expanding as more of your essence dripped off of your chair.

He laughed as you brought a hand up to your mouth and gasped, your face flushing crimson. You felt your stomach drop as the classroom door slid open, a groggy looking Aizawa lumbering into the room.

“I take it the two of you behaved,” he grumbled, sitting down at his desk.

“Yes, Mr. Aizawa,” Denki responded confidently, before turning to look at you. “Didn’t we, y/n?”

Aizawa and Denki both looked at you expectantly, awaiting your answer.

“Y-yes. We behaved, Mr. Aizawa,” you lied.

Aizawa took notice of how flustered you looked, and how pink your cheeks were. His brows furrowed, head cocking to the side as he stared at you.

“Are you alright? You look a little rattled. He didn’t do anything to you, did he?” he inquired, throwing an accusatory glance at Kaminari.

“N-no, sir. I’m fine,” you assured him, offering him a small smile as you lied once again.

He looked at the both of you suspiciously before clearing his throat. “Well, you two are free to go. You can leave your papers on your desks. Enjoy your weekend,” he muttered, averting his attention to some assignments that needed grading.

You were very aware of the small droplets of liquid that dribbled down your legs as you stood up to gather your things. Denki noticed too, not even trying to not make it obvious. You were just grateful that Mr. Aizawa was too preoccupied to notice.

You left the classroom with unfinished papers and a puddle on the floor, both of which the two of you would probably have to answer to when you returned to class the following Monday. But you both were too excited about the new dynamic of your relationship to care in that moment. All either of you could think about were the inevitable escapades that were surely in your future.

~

a/n: that escalated quickly 👀 a sequel to this can definitely be expected to come in the near future!

[fanmoose12]

Hello would you mind writing vets as a music band? And that fans suspect the “normal” relationship of head vocal Levi and bassist Hange? Sorry if my english isn’t writing properly at all.

Mikasa invites him to a No Name concert.

And it's like- whatever, right? Who cares? Jean certainly doesn't.

So what if the girl of his dreams asks him out on a date? It's not like he has been daydreaming about it for the past two years. So what if she offers to see his favorite band in the whole world? He doesn't even like them much. Sure, he knows all their songs by heart but- he doesn't listen to them that often. Only twice or thrice each day. And it's not like his closet hides an insane amount of their merchandise. That is between Jean, his closet and his mother.

He isn't nervous, he doesn't care about the upcoming date. At all. Most certainly, he doesn't spend literal days, obsessing over his outfit. And he obviously doesn't pester Sasha and Connie with questions on how to style his hair.

Most importantly, he doesn't imagine how it would feel to hold Mikasa's hand or maybe even go for a hug or a kiss-

Jean tries not to think about it, his heart starts to beat to fast, when he does, but when he doesn't think about Mikasa, he starts thinking about No Name and the little, tinie tiny fact that he's going to see them in person. That he's going to meet them and maybe even shake their hand, because Mikasa being the gorgeous goddess she is, got them tickets with access to a backstage. It didn't require any kind of effort from her side, since the famed, spectacularly, dreamy Levi Ackerman is Mikasa's cousin, but- Jean doesn't remember sharing his No Name obsession with Mikasa, for obvious reasons - he doesn't want to think that he likes her just because she's Levi Ackerman's cousin, Mikasa is great not because she's an Ackerman, but because she's Mikasa, but- but Jean is so, so grateful that he'll have the chance to see No Name in all their glory.

Of course, he is not at all nervous about meeting his favorite band in person. No, no, he doesn't lose sleep over it, his palms don't turn clammy. Sometimes he feels like he'll combust from anticipation, but he's fine, completely fine.

He just can't wait until that fated day will come.

---

When that day rolls around at last, Jean is cool. He's cool, calm, serene.

His hand is greasy from all the times he touched his slicked back hair, and he can't stop tugging at the sleeves of his leather jacket, but- but he's cool.

The band that is currently playing isn't that bad - not nearly as talented and awesome, and hot as No Name, but still good. The crowd is bigger than Jean is comfortable with, but today it works in his favor because it prompts Mikasa to hold his hand. Maybe, he'll get that kiss after all. If he continues keeping his cool.

That proves to be just a little harder task when Mikasa announces that they reached the backstage.

Jean can't help it - he gawks around helplessly.

This is it, this is a place where miracles happen, where stars lounge and rest.

This is the place where he'll meet No Name.

Jean can't imagine how this meeting will transpire. Will they like him? Will they agree to make a photo? Will they give him an autograph? Will they think that he's a weirdo who is too obsessed with their music?

All of the above? None of the above?

Jean doesn't know.

There are so many things he wants to say. There are so many things he wants to ask - how can they play with those bandages on? How do they never trip during performances? What is their favorite song to play? What do they do in their free time? What is their favorite food? Are the rumors about Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe-

Okay, no, he probably shouldn't ask that last question, no matter how much he wants to know the answer. And he wants to, so, so much.

The thing is- there are many rumors about No Name. It's not surprising, they are young, famous and extremely hot. These rumors usually exclude the drummer, Mike Zacharias, who is already engaged with a very pretty blonde lady, their stylist. Although, there are some fans who speculate that the engagement is not true, and Mike actually dates their producer, one Erwin Smith, but- Jean usually ignores that type of fans, branding them as freaks.

Now, as far as everyone is aware, nor Levi Ackerman, neither Hange Zoe are involved in any kind of romantic relationships, and that's- that's where the juicy stuff begins.

There aren't many rumors about Hange - some say she's involved with Pieck, the band's make-up artist. Or their manager, Moblit Berner. Or an indie artist, Onyakopon. But that's where the list ends.

Levi Ackerman, however, oh he has a far longer list of lovers. Petra Ral, for example, a rising pop-star - young, talented and so pretty that it hurts. Or Erwin, although on that subject rumors wary - some say that Erwin is the one who got Levi in showbiz, some say that Erwin is his sugar daddy, some say that they're already engaged and even married. The rumors are as varied as they're wrong, in Jean's opinion. Most rumors about Levi are like that. There are even talks about his involvement with Yeager brothers - with the front man of the rival band, Zeke, and Jean's and Mikasa's classmate, Eren. Jean doesn't understand where these rumors even come from, as far as he's aware, Levi hates them both. But- but rumors still exist.

As stupid as they are.

Now, Jean has a different opinion, one that he spends nights defending in chats and forums. Yes, Levi Ackerman has a lover. And no, it's not Petra Ral, Erwin Smith or any of the Yeager brothers. It's Hange Zoe, No Name's bassist.

There are many reasons why he thinks so. Firstly, they are always together. And by always, Jean means always. In photoshoots they stand side by side, during performances they lean against each other, on all kinds of photos - from after-parties to official events, they always touch each other in some way. And that's not all. They spend their vacations together, they hang out at movies, restaurants, museums, their respective instagrams are full of the other's candid photos. And it's a known fact that they share an apartment. Honestly, how much more obvious it can get? Also Jean is pretty sure that one of the songs written by Levi is about Hange, and he has an entire essay, explaining why he's right. He prays to every saint known that Mikasa will never find it. He doesn't want his almost girlfriend to find out just how invested he is in the romantic life of her famous cousin.

As they walk further and further into the magical territory of the backstage, Jean tries to think of something cool to say, something laid-back and easy like 'hey, what's up, guys? I've listened to the couple of your songs, you're not that bad...'

Yes, he decides. That's a good way to start. A cool way to start.

And Jean is cool. And calm.

And- oh my god, there they are, the three of them, already in their costumes, just without the signature bandages. They look even cooler in person. They look even hotter and-

Mikasa squeezes his hand.

"If my asshole cousin says something awful, I'll punch him in the face for you."

God, that is so sweet. So Mikasa. He wouldn't be opposed to anyone getting a punch from her except- her gorgeous cousin. His pretty face should be protected at all costs.

However, as they approach, the face that charmed millions transforms, turning into a quite nasty scowl.

"So that's him?" Levi Ackerman asks (Jean's sick brain, even in that moment, can't help but note that Hange Zoe is standing right behind her band member, a hand laying on his shoulder). "That's the guy you're going crazy about?"

"Yes," Mikasa answers, and suddenly the air grows stiff. "Do you have a problem with that?"

The lines around Levi's mouth harden, and Jean tries to focus on Hange Zoe, while his mind prepares for something not at all pretty, but- Hange is smiling - not smirking, smiling. That is a good sign, right?

"Don't mind the Ackermans," she stage whispers to Jean. "Levi was actually very excited about meeting you."

Right now it's hard to imagine that dark (and still so handsome) face in the expression of excitement, but. Hange knows him a lot more, right?

"Oh and by the way," she giggles, and at the back of his mind Jean wonders if that's how angels sound like. "I'm Hange."

He almost blurts out 'I know' but- that'd be creepy? Or not? He can't decide so settles on a simple nod.

"Jean," he says, taking the offered hand in his. With his hand that isn't holding Mikasa's (they're holding hands, wow!), he shakes Hange's. It's unexpectedly calloused. But still warm and gentle. Not as nice as Mikasa's but... somewhere very close.

"And that is the one and only Levi Ackerman," Hange continues, gesturing to the man in question. "He only looks so scary. But actually," she winks and lowers her voice. "He's the biggest softie you'll ever meet."

The biggest softie Jean has ever met, practically snarls, baring his teeth. But the hand on his shoulder tightens and he instantly relaxes, scoffing in annoyance. Oh, so that's who Hange Zoe is? The one who tames the beast?

"You're not as revolting as her other dates," Levi says. Jean is pretty sure that it was meant as a compliment. "But if you dare to-"

"Oi," Mikasa's face becomes as stormy as her cousin's. "He won't."

"And even if he does," Hange smiles, so handsome and a little scary. "Mikasa knows what to do."

Jean gulps. He has seen Mikasa train that one time. He was very impressed, and a little bit scared. Also a lot aroused.

He knows with ironclad certainty that should Mikasa kick him... his face may not survive it.

"Hange, Levi," a gruff voice behind them calls. Jean lifts his eyes, mouth opening in shock as he sees him in the flash - the third member of Non Name, Mike Zacharius himself. In person... he is even more enormous than on photos. His shoulders are twice as wide as Jean's, and next to Hange and Levi, he looks almost like a giant. "We're starting in five."

"Oh!" Hange covers her mouth with a palm. "I haven't checked my guitar yet. Let's hurry, shorty!"

Hange dashes away instantly, Levi sighs and trudges after her. Mikasa tugs at Jean's hand as well, whispering that they need to go to their places.

Jean nods, absentmindedly, because right in that moment, at the other side of the room he sees Hange and Levi exchange a playful, quick but undeniably a kiss.

Triumph courses through him, firing him up. He knew that he was right, those fuckers from twitter can eat his shit.

Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman are truly dating.

He wants to know more, wants to ask Mikasa to spare the juicy details, but for now-

For now, Jean has to take care of his date as well.

He interlaces their fingers, and, keeping Hange's words in mind - Ackermans are not as scary as they look - he leans in to press a kiss to Mikasa's cheek and whispers,

"You look fantastic."

Ever so slightly, but Mikasa blushes. It's the best moment of the evening so far.

And, hopefully, there will be more of that.

[13reasonswhynot]

Jeff Atkins NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s very sweet and gentle with you. He always makes sure you’re okay afterwards and that you were comfortable with everything.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favorite body part of yours would be your thighs. He loved how soft they were, and especially how they wrap around his head when he’s eating you out.

His favorite body part of his would probably be his shoulders or biceps. He loved the way you gripped onto them as you’re riding his dick.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

For starters, he was always set on making you feel good first. His main goal was to make you cum first. He wasn’t against cumming inside you, with a condom of course. But, he loves releasing on your stomach, as he thinks you look beautiful with a part of him on you.

D = Dirty words (favorite phrases to whisper in your ears)

“Let me hear you, baby.”

“Try to stay quiet for me. Can you do that?”

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s pretty experienced. He’s had his fair share with girls. But, he’s always open for improvement and to learning about your body and what you like and what makes you feel good.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He doesn’t really mind. As long as it’s pleasuring the both of you, it doesn’t matter to him. But if he had to pick his favorite, cowgirl or reverse cowgirl>>

G = Giddy (How excited they are everytime they do it?)

He gets even more excited each and every time. He loves spending time with you and most of all pleasuring you.

H = Handjobs (Do they prefer handjobs or blowjobs?)

Definitely blowjobs. He adores the way you make eye contact whilst giving him head.

I = Intimate (How they are in the moment … a kisser … handsy … etc)

He is very handsy. If you’re riding him, his hands will be on your ass. If you’re in missionary, his hands will be interlocked with yours. If you’re in reverse cowgirl, his hands will be on your hips guiding you up and down on his cock. He loves kissing you too. He will worship each and every part of your body.

J = Jacking off (Do they masturbate when they aren’t with you?)

If you aren’t up to having sex, he’ll do it. But, most of the time he’ll ask you, or try to turn you on.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dirty talk.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His favorite place is a bed. Again, he doesn’t really care for public places. He rather focus more on your pleasure and if you’re comfortable or not.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You grinding on him, or just your ass. It doesn’t take much to turn him on when it comes to you.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Inflict pain on you. Never his intention. Here and there his hand would find a place on your neck, but he would never put enough pressure to cause difficulty breathing.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

His main motive is to pleasure you. Hence, he would prefer giving. But, he will not pass down a blowjob if you insisted. In terms of skill, he would be exceptionally good at it. He would take time to learn how your body responds, and move forward with what gives you the most pleasure.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s usually slow and sensual. He likes taking in the moment. But, I wouldn’t underestimate him. He can be fast and rough if he really wanted to be.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn’t really care for them. If you both need a quick release, it’ll happen. But, he much rather take his time with you considering it’s one of the most intimate moments you share with him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s open to experimenting if you wanna try something new. He’s doesn’t care much for taking risks— moreover doesn’t really care for public sex. He rather be focused more on you, and not the possibility of someone catching the two of you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He lasts for as long as you do. Sometimes you can together, but most of the time his motive is to help you release first. In conclusion, he’ll hold out until you cum.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Personally, he doesn’t own any for himself. If you wanted to use them during sex, he would be more than happy to use them on you. His own preference is none being used on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh, he is such a tease. He loves to build anticipation to make the experience even more enjoyable. He prefers to tease you when the two of you are alone. His intention is to never publicly embarrass you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He doesn’t vocalize much, but when he does. It makes you melt. All you could do is grin at the fact you’re making him feel this good.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He loves when you ride him. He thinks it’s the hottest thing when you try and take control, but he finds it even hotter when you submit to him and let him guide your hips.

X = X-rated movies (Do they like watching porn by themselves, with you etc.)

He likes to watch it with you. It usually ends with you and him having sex.

Y = Yes (What they love to do to make you orgasm)

He loves to whisper your favorite names in your ear, forehead kisses, hand holding, hickies in the shape of a J, “Go ahead princess, I got you, let go all over me.”

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He falls asleep once you’re asleep. He always wants to make sure you’re okay after and will ensure you’re comfortably sleeping.

[pyro-chaos]

The Dim Lighting

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

*PICTURE NOT MINE*

Summary: With the additional population attributed to the prison after Woodbury's fall, your group was facing a rapid decrease in available supplies. You and Daryl had embarked on a quick supply run when Daryl shared something with you he hadn’t shared with others before. 

Words: 11,185 

WARNINGS: Lot’s of sexual innuendos. Mild smut, but no hot beef injection. Cannon violence. Otherwise, pretty much all fluff. Talk of scars. 

Is this too much instant mashed potatoes for dinner? What if someone else needs the calories more? What if you eat like tomorrow's gonna be a big day, and you only do some minor ten-minute chores? Then you'll feel bad for taking someone else's portion of mashed potatoes. 

You take a large scoop of the instant mashed potatoes from your plate and plop it back into the communally shared pot. Supplies were running short as it is. You didn't need more than a scoopful. Hopefully, there'd be leftovers tomorrow, and that'd be your 'filling' breakfast. 

Due to the increased population at the prison, there wasn't a single supply that the prison wasn't running low on. It was common for someone to acquire a cut that needed a few stitches or break a bone after running through the woods and falling face-first into rocks, branches, and dirt. Medical supplies had begun to dwindle. 

With the extra mouths to feed, food was being consumed faster than it was being produced. Weapons were used to keep protected when any quest included combat with walkers. With the increase in inhabitants, the demand for protection increased as well. Rick's been running around like a chicken with his head cut off. As the leader, most responsibilities fell on him. 

Supply runs were never out of the question.

On the subject of diminishing resources, Rick suggested a casual supply run to a nearby mall. The name-brand department stores' clothing could be fashioned into makeshift splints, bandages, and reusable diapers for Rick's kid. If there was some kind of sporting goods store, there'd be a possibility for salvageable weapons. The kitchens in the food quart could be hiding unforeseen treasures, and the mall could be quickly cleared of walkers by a small party. 

Daryl and yourself had been allowed to exit the safety of the prison on the notion you'd be back no later than the following day. Departing straight after waking would ensure you had a fair amount of time to gather supplies. You'd spend the night in the walker-infested territory and be back sometime the next day. 

Daryl hadn't put his bike to use. Managing the cargo, milage, and whereabouts of two different vehicles would take an increased effort. Not to mention the fuel it would require. Plus, what if you found more supplies than the bike could carry? It wasn't worth it. Was that how Daryl thought of things? Or were you just vastly oversimplifying the nature of Daryl's actions? Either way, he wasn't putting the bike to use. Instead, he'd be the driver in a blue pick-up truck you'd been provided with to utilize for the run.

If Daryl had decided to take the motorcycle for a spin, you wouldn't complain. His biceps glowed when he gripped the handles. His muscles flexed as he'd put pressure on the acceleration or the breaks on the front handles of the mini-vehicle. Most of the time, the Georgia heat caused a light sheen of sweat to cover his skin. The sight prompted your throat to constrict and your mouth to water. A welcomed heat spreading throughout your body and radiating your most... concealed corners. The angel-winged vest tightened around his back as he directed the vehicle to go in whatever direction his biceps commanded. Driving the truck without him wouldn't be an issue. As long as you could enjoy the view. 

Of course, you enjoyed being with Daryl as much as admiring him from a distance. The comfortable silence you allowed yourself to be engulfed in was just as rewarding as the gorgeous view of his well-developed arms.

Which brought you to where you were now. Staring at the various overgrown trees whiz by through the window. 

Daryl had been keeping a steady hold on the steering wheel for the last couple of hours. He wore a sleeveless flannel and his black leather angel-winged vest. Due to the blistering heat the daytime provided, he'd ditched sleeves. 

The sweat that came with the scorching weather was sticky, uncomfortable. Most of the time, it came with an unwelcome odor. Still, if the reward for powering through would be Daryl's glistening biceps, then you'd manage without Making any fuss. 

Daryl's arms rippled as the man adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. Your fingers tingled and numbed simultaneously. A white-hot desire to - to feel him coursed through your palms to the tip of your fingers. The breath knocked clean out of your lungs. Your gaze slowly and tantalizingly traveled along the expanse of his tan skin. Taking in every blemish, every scar, and every mundane detail that made the skin his own. The man's hands gripped the wheel tightly, his grip shifted from time to time. Likely to keep the sweat from gathering on his palms. How hot was it outside? The air in the vehicle was undoubtedly cooler than the molten lava running through your veins.

Daryl's hands. Oh God, his fucking hands. They could hold onto something with a gentle tenderness you were surprised their build could offer. Then, they could ball into fists at a moment's notice and be used as a dangerous weapon against someone with the balls to challenge the man. 

In more sensual scenarios, they'd been able to mind-numbingly twist, thrust, and flutter. Wherever Daryl's hands moved, heat followed. His fingers teased, gently dragging along your skin without pressing enough to properly satisfy. It left your skin tingling and overheating in anticipation. Your body writhing in the position he'd left you in. How could his hands be so attractive and so deadly at the same time?

You had explored the expanse of Daryl's skin that had been hidden away from others the same way he had with yours. More than once. There was no shame in admiring the gorgeousness of his features as long as spectators didn't tease. Embarrassment would make it hard to appropriately interact with others. Would Daryl be made uncomfortable? That was the last thing you wanted. However, if Daryl caught you staring, you'd be significantly less flustered. 

The man's features had you sweating in nervousness, anticipation, and - something hotter. As long as you weren't making him uncomfortable, then you wouldn't be shy about voicing your attraction to the man you were attracted to. 

"Keep starin'," Daryl moved his attention away from the asphalt, "I oughta do a trick." 

Heat flooded into your cheeks from your neck to your ears. Without delay, you aimed your retinas to the clear windshield in front of you. How long since the paint had been repainted on the roads? How were the streets so mesmerizing after all this time? Oh, look a tree. 

How the hell do you respond to that? 

"Promise?" You quipped. 

Your snark rewarded you with a side-eyed glare from the man before he returned his attention to keeping the car on the empty road. The man's lack of a witty remark caused your ego to inflate like a balloon. That's how you respond. 

When the man's gaze was no longer on you, you turned your head to take in facial features. His forehead was covered by his chocolate-grown-out hair. He'd acquired a soft tan from being out in the sun every day. There weren't many clean, usable razors anymore. His facial hair had grown scruffy. His gaze had been fixed on the open road ahead of you. 

Your gut filled with an odd... tingle, or was it a pull? Your heart swelled, pounded, and twisted all at once. The random wave of fondness almost made you order him to pull over to show him how much affection he really deserved.

"I...I like the way you look." 

You turned your attention to the broken world outside the windshield. How awkward would it be if you continued to outwardly gawk at the man? You didn't want to find out. The random compliment you'd given enhanced the burning in your cheeks. 

You may not be shy about voicing your obvious attraction towards the man, but that didn't mean you were immune to the awkwardness of being caught while staring.

Plus, you already needed a cold shower. You shouldn't fuel that fire right now. 

You didn't see Daryl fiddle with his mouth as he snuck a glance towards you. You didn't get the opportunity to read the surprise behind his otherwise stoic expression. You'd caught the man off-guard with your compliment.

How - How should he react? Should he give you one back? That didn't... feel right. It would come out awkward and strained. What if what he said made you think he was a pervert? What was this strange twist in his nerves and heat in his bones? 

If the swelling in his chest and the heat crawling up his neck were anything to go by, he didn't mind being on the receiving end of your affection. 

What you did register was the moment Daryl took before scoffing and nudging your thigh with his large hand. You'd savored the light tingle Daryl's playful push had left on your thigh. The static spread a soft layer of goosebumps throughout your skin. Being alone with Daryl caused your body, mind, and hell, your soul to swell with affection.

As the blue truck pulled into the deserted parking lot, your fingers began to fidget with themselves. Your chin lowered, and your hand blindly reached for your hunting knife. If you pivoted and swerved correctly, the walkers in the parking lot could be evaded. How many walkers in the building? Would the building be vast enough for Daryl and yourself to move around comfortably? What if there were more walkers than expected? 

Would the walkers in the mall herd up? God, you better hope they don't. A few could be taken out, a freaking herd? The undead in the parking lot didn't exceed more than ten. Not enough for the walkers to begin displaying herding behavior. The repercussions from the boom the firing of a gun usually came with wouldn't be worth the temporary gain. The waste of time it would be to erect and execute a plan in taking out the walkers wasn't worth the risk. As long as you didn't mess anything up while inside the mall, they wouldn't be a problem as you took your leave.

Daryl's blue pupils flipped in your direction before moving back to the outside world in front of them as he grabbed his pistol from the center console and cracked open the driver's-side door. You'd followed in suit. Opening the passenger's-side door and shutting it as quietly as possible. You took extra care in keeping your knees bent as you lightly duck walked towards the backseat of the car. 

You pulled the handle, opening the backseat door and leaning into the vehicle. Handling Daryl's and your overnight packs. First, throwing Daryl's over your shoulders and then putting yours on over it. They'd been equipped with water canteens, a few meal bars each, and some extra ammunition—enough supplies for no more than a day. You'd also packed extra duffle bags. This was a supply run. If you'd hit the jackpot, different bags for the additional supplies would be helpful. 

Holy fuck, since when was a couple of backpacks this heavy? The packs had two metal water bottles each. That couldn't be why holding your balance with additional weight on your shoulders caused you to lean forward. It couldn't be that, right? You'd thrown an extra carton of ammo in your pack on the way out of the prison. In all, that wasn't much.

When you'd equipped yourself with the packs, you shut the door slowly, taking care in being sure the door of the vehicle flushed with the rest. Daryl stepped in front of you. His crossbow was drawn as he surveyed the parking lot. You had stayed behind Daryl as he hastily led you to the row of entrances of the mall. You had your hunting knife drawn. You were prepared to stab skulls should the walkers get past Daryl's crossbow.   

When you'd arrived at the blood-smudged glass doors, Daryl removed a hand from his crossbow and placed it on the pull-facing handle. He swiftly hauled open the door and turned towards the parking lot. He backed up against the glass, the hinges creaked, fueling the faint ring in your ears. 

You quickly shuffled inside the building. Your heels off of the ground as much as possible as you promptly sidestepped past Daryl into the building. You were careful to stay out of the line of fire that Daryl's crossbow had been stationed towards. You figured getting shot with an arrow wouldn't help the supply situation back home. 

You carefully, slowly, and quietly treaded further inside the abandoned mall. Keeping on your toes as much as possible. Preventing your heels from touching the filth-covered ground without losing your balance. You'd picked up on the habit of keeping your heels slightly raised from the floor to keep as quiet as possible on uncarpeted surfaces. 

Your knife hadn't returned to its sheath. Instead of the blade pointing towards the sky as you held it, the sharp-end faced the floor. Your arms were raised to your breast. Your knife close enough to your chest to protect yourself, but far enough that fighting wouldn't be a problem. Your other arm positioned itself in front of your torso in a similar way to the knuckle wielding your weapon. You'd use your unarmed arm for protection and leverage rather than offense.

The mall had been abandoned for a while. The paint was caked in grime, blood, and other unidentifiable substances. The pair of escalators leading to and from the second story were covered in dirt. The usually clear glass rails that protected the steps were no longer evident. The ceiling was caving in. If you had to guess, you'd say the tiles and paneling had begun to fall onto the ground long before this place was discovered by your people. The stores were vacant, and the lack of illumination caused the unseen corners to appear as if a void had swallowed them whole. 

What further unsettled you were the walkers within the building. From what you could see, there were four on the second story. They were clawing in your direction. Leaning and stumbling towards the newfound noises. Thank the fucking fences that some were too stupid to understand that the broken-down escalator would grant them passage to you. There were likely to be more, but you couldn't worry about that now. They weren't in your immediate vicinity, and there was the matter of more walkers moving towards you from the outside. 

Daryl was doing his best to barricade the entrance to the mall. After all, this would be your place of residency for the night. Securing the openings as much as possible was a sensible choice. Even if the doors needed to be pulled from the outside, it was better safe than dead. What was a viable way to barricade the doors that wouldn't be permanent?

Malls usually contained movable seating. Places where people could sit while their company continued shopping. You'd often reclined on said seating areas when you shopped in malls before the apocalypse. You'd need to wait for your company in the hall because you'd get bored inside whatever department you'd been in before. The movable seating could be used for extra support for the doors.

When your gaze landed on the two eroded benches and mildly torn recliners across from the escalator, you quickly made your way to them from across the vacant hallway. A bench could be easily be moved. You'd need a recliner. A recliner may not have been the best long-term door-stopper, but it would suffice for the time you and Daryl needed.

As you closed the distance between yourself and the empty, unused recliners near the escalator, the sounds of the dead became louder. You didn't need to look up to understand the threat they posed when you'd travel up the stairs and search the top floor for possible supplies.

You tucked your knife in the waistband of your pants and braced your hands on the back of the recliner, and began to push it towards Daryl. You bent slightly over. Your arms directly in front of you as you dug your feet further into the floor and continued moving. The two backpacks dug into your shoulders, causing a slight strain in your muscles. As the chair gained momentum, you allowed yourself to speed up to a light power walk. You'd gotten to Daryl in no time. 

When you arrived at his side, the man aided you in shoving the recliner against the glass door. The rest of the main entryways had been locked. Plus, if the walkers happened to have the strength to break the door open, the chair would make a skidding noise as they pushed it out of the way. Alerting Daryl or yourself about the oncoming threat. 

You'd backed away from the door. The walkers who'd been aware of your presence in the parking lot had begun stumbling towards you, only to be caught on the transparent barrier. How many of them had piled up against the doors? One, two, three, four - whatever. They wouldn't stay forever. They wouldn't become strong enough to break the glass. Once they lost sight of you or something louder caught their attention, they'd be out of your hair. 

Once Daryl was satisfied with the security of the front entrance, he backed towards you. He came to stand by your side as you untucked your knife from the waistband of your pants. The man scanned the main entrance before pulling his crossbow from his shoulder and pointing it towards the floor. 

You turned on your heel and ventured further into the abandoned mall. Your gaze sweeping over the interior, "There's a couple of walkers on the second story. There's gonna be more - I can clear the top floor." 

Daryl grunted halfheartedly, drawing his crossbow and aiming towards the groaning walker leaning on the railway. The arrow flew across the room quicker than your gaze could follow. When it hit the walker, its target immediately went limp. It tipped over the railing and fell to the floor with a disturbing splat without the extra back support. You could smell the rotting fluids that had been spattered all over the grimy marble floors. 

He lowered his crossbow to the floor, pulling back the string that flung the arrows that were responsible for taking down what he'd aimed for.

"I got this floor, I'll check on the doors" He pulled an arrow from the quiver attached to the crossbow, "Make sure there ain't any secret entrances we gotta worry 'bout."

"Meet back here?"

Daryl's reply wasn't verbal. Instead, he grunted in confirmation and moved past you, his crossbow drawn. He was ready for any walker prepared to surprise him with a toothy smile when he turned the corner into the empty expanse of the mall. 

"Hey, don't die" He removed a hand from his crossbow and waved you off, "Scream if something happens!" 

Daryl moved farther from you. 

"Don' hold your breath!" Daryl sassed from around the corner. 

You smiled and made your way towards the offline escalator. Your knife was positioned to stab, slash, offend and or defend. You were ready. 

-----

"Rotten, rotten, unusable, rotten," You listed off as you searched the walk-in refrigerator of the Dairy Queen in the rickety food quart. It smelled worse than your clothes, and your clothes were covered in rotting guts and blood. 

The fridge was warm. There was no melted, rotting, putrid ice cream. Likely eaten before shit really hit the fan. If milk had been in the refrigerator, it had gone rancid long ago. The meat had browned and had appeared to be growing maggots for longer than Judith had been alive for. The fruit, lettuce, vegetables, and other perishables had grown rot, browned, and proceeded in their designated decomposition stages. 

"The hell'd ya expect?" 

Daryl had been bagging the kitchen knives that had been left behind. He'd taken his backpack from you after he'd finished searching for possible breaches in the entrances on the bottom floor. You didn't protest. Keeping your arms raised and flexed while holding the two packs had begun to cause your shoulders to lightly ache. The strain caused your aim to waver and your eyes to roll. 

"Maybe some pickles," You answered haphazardly, shutting the door to the walk-in refrigerator. 

You let out a long exhale and hooked your hands behind your head. Your fingers interlocked as you walked to where Daryl was stuffing the last handful of napkin-covered blades into the backpack. 

"We should walk around, figure out what stores are here and what they might have" 

"There ain't much." 

You yawned, "Then we'll get creative," 

You untangled your fingers from behind your head and allowed them to fall to your sides. The overdrawn yawn allowed your muscles to pulse with temporary relief.

Daryl's gaze moved from his backpack to you. His brows were relaxed, and there was no trace of a frown on his lips. He didn't glare at you after your snide remark. He gave you a slight nod as he zipped up his backpack before slinging the bag over his shoulder. Then picked up his crossbow from where he'd set it leaning against the counter. Pushing off the counter to exit the Dairy Queen. 

"I can get the bag. You have your crossbow."

He'd carried his primary weapon, now he was hauling around the bag as well. You only lugged your less-heavy backpack. The distribution of work It wasn't fair. You were able-bodied. You could help.  

"Nah"

The man's path led him further away from the food quart. You'd spent valuable time rummaging through garbage in the kitchens hoping to find food or water. Daryl had found an abundance of kitchen knives, a fire blanket, and you'd found napkins. Napkins were flammable, and blankets would be in high demand when winter came. The kitchen knives would be suitable for training weapons or food preparation, much to your dismay, no food. Daryl carried the kitchen knives wrapped in the napkins. You had stuffed the fire blanket into your backpack. 

"I'm good. I can carry something." 

"There's a mattress shop aroun' this corner" He pointed to his left. Using the hand that wasn't currently holding the strap to his crossbow, "we could stay there for the night. Been a while since we slept on a real bed." 

"We could tear a couple of them apart. Beds can have memory foam that could be good for something like bandaging or a... bleeder stopper." 

"Bleeder stopper?" Daryl turned his head to you with his eyebrows slightly raised. 

"Yeah, like thick gauze or a sponge." 

Daryl stared at you for a long couple of seconds before shaking his head and turning his attention back to the path before him. You pursed your lips and continued to follow him on his way to the mattress store. 

Wait, if you were planning on using materials in the store wouldn't it be better to change? Medical supplies were supposed to be sterile after all. If your clothes smeared blood all over the fabrics, the cleanliness of it would be compromised. Unclean cloth shouldn't be used for bandages or bleeder stoppers. 

"We should clean up,"

"Clean up?" Daryl repeated. His tone was inquisitive and questioning. 

"We're all bloody," you gestured to your shirt and the blood on his neck, "We shouldn't get the beds bloody."

"We're fine,"

"Ok. Well, I'm gonna change. This smells. I'll meet you at the mattress store." 

"You don' know where it's at,"

"I'll find it," You reassured him as you began to speed walk towards a nearby Bath and Body Works. They carried shampoo. What would be the harm in checking it out?

Daryl resisted the urge to roll his eyes. You were living in an apocalypse. He didn't think hygiene should be very high on his list of priorities. So it wasn't. However, hygiene may be essential to you. You weren't content with sleeping in a bed with bloody clothes. Daryl couldn't blame you. He just didn't care about the grime as much as you did. When's a little dirt ever killed anybody?

You weren't worried about the possible threats that could still be lurking in the dark corners of the mall. You could protect yourself, and Daryl had already taken care of sealing all possible walker entrances. You would be safe without him. 

The man wasn't convinced. He'd feel better if he was with you, keeping an eye on you. It didn't sit right with him that you'd be on the other side of the building. Hearing your screams would be more difficult than if he was right next to you. If something happened, he wouldn't be aware in time to help keep you alive. He'd follow you instead of allowing you to change without him. Keeping track of your safety would be easier that way. 

You heard a loud scoff before heavy footsteps began to make their way towards you. 

-----

"You should change too," You spoke from behind Daryl, pulling the new utility pants over your waist. 

After you stuffed your backpack with shampoos, conditioners, lotions, and candles with various scents, you'd ventured into a sporting goods store. The former ship didn't disappoint. You'd found utility pants with a quick-drying military green material and more than four pockets, along with various other clothing items. 

There'd be others at the prison that would enjoy a new pair of pants. Plus, the fabrics could be used for water filtration and reusable bandages. 

You hadn't changed your bloody, wet, disgusting shirt yet. You'd change, pull out one of your additional backpacks and pack a few shirts along with the extra pants. 

Daryl had been ruffling through the fishing gear about two yards away from you. The mall had been ransacked before you'd arrived. The gun rack was cleared out, fire equipment was nowhere to be seen, and any medical equipment had been rubut there were fishing hooks and some lines. Maybe there'd be bait. The prison was likely to be home to someone who could make do with the scarce fishing supplies. 

You'd continue the search for supplies. You wouldn't leave any stone unturned. 

"M' alright," Daryl said, stuffing a box of fishing hooks into his backpack. 

"K, I'll just wash you up before bed." 

You turned over to him and studied the expanse of his hair to his waist. How much grime would need to be scrubbed off before bed? He better not believe that dirty shirt was gonna keep with his skin as he slept. 

"Might make you sleep without your pants." 

"Yer jus' tryna get me naked," Daryl feigned seriousness, yanking a nearby t-shirt from its hanger and throwing it at you. 

You caught it with two hands. It was your size. Did Daryl look through the shirts to find one for you, or had he just picked one up randomly? Did he pay attention to your sizes? Your heart jumped at the man's attentiveness. He did care. 

You embarked on the quest of finding the sleeves. Once you found what you were looking for, you gripped the fabric using the shoulder sleeves and displayed the shirt in front of you. You scanned the clothing from the neckline to the hem. Assessing whether it was clean enough to change into.

When you were satisfied with the clothing item's quality, you threw the shirt onto a nearby clothing rack. You then slipped your shoulders from the backpack you'd been carrying all over the mall. The instant relief you felt from the newfound freedom of your shoulders almost made you let out a sigh of contentment. You lightly rolled your shoulders. Enough to butter the joints, but not enough to alert Daryl of your discomfort. The bag's heaviness had only increased with the candles and shampoos. You set the backpack on the floor, careful to avoid any bloody tiles. 

You rolled the front of the shirt you'd been wearing into a scroll. Similar to a paper you'd roll up to smack someone over the head with. You then lifted the rolled hemline over your shoulders and pulled your arms from the sleeves. You'd scrolled-up the front of the shirt to avoid smearing walker guts all over your hair and face. It appeared to do the trick. You'd been able to undress without bathing in blood. 

When you were officially shirtless, you flipped the shirt inside out and crinkled it up into a ball. Without properly aiming, you threw the shirt at an unsuspecting Daryl. Your aim wasn't exactly on point. The revolting fabric had ricochetted off his elbow before falling to the floor. 

When he looked back at you with a glare lacking any actual malice or threat, you stuck your tongue out at him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head before returning his attention to the task he'd previously engrossed in. 

You grabbed the shirt from the clothing rack you'd set it upon and began the process of clothing yourself. 

Throughout the process of redressing, you didn't notice Daryl's side-eyed-stare directed towards you. Specifically, directed towards the parts of you that were.. uncovered. It wasn't often that he'd seen a pretty woman half-naked in front of him. You usually stuck to practicality over beauty. It was the apocalypse. So when he'd seen you without a shirt after throwing that rag at him. He had resisted the urge to shift in his tightening pants. After all, due to your lack of intentional provocativeness, it wasn't often you showed skin. When you did - Daryl's mind wandered. 

He'd seen the things your body could do. He's - felt them. He's been under you as he watched your now, covered nipples perk under his attention. He's tasted the supple flesh that you'd been so adamant about covering in public. He's savored the taste of you as you dripped down his chin. He's indulged in your tongue's hidden talents - on more than one occasion. He's hovered over you as your chest pressed against his. He's felt your chest bounce with his unrelenting movements inside of you. 

You only shared these moments with Daryl in private. He's only seen you when no one else was there to see you two with one another. Daryl didn't mind that. You trusted him enough to show him the most vulnerable parts of you, it made the strings of his heart pull, and his arms itch to wrap around you. He didn't expect you to flaunt your body if you didn't wish to. That being said, it wasn't often you'd undressed or showed any sensuality in public. 

The rare times you did - Well, Daryl was still a man, and to him... You were an insanely attractive woman. 

Daryl cleared his throat. Moving a hand to his crotch and adjusting himself, holding back the pleasured sounds building in the back of his throat. He tore his gaze away as your breasts were covered by the clean shirt he'd thrown at you. He hadn't expected you to redress in the item. He'd thought he was poking fun at you with what you'd been so particular about. He didn't expect you to give him such a gratifying show. 

He'd been glad you did. 

"Sporting goods store," You absentmindedly voiced, "Lanterns?" As you unpacked an extra duffle from your backpack, you kept your vision trained on Daryl.

The man needed a moment. You weren't always aware of the effect you had on other people. Daryl had to remember that you weren't trying to turn him on. 

"Probly" The man's voice was strangely deep and gravelly as you set the extra bag on the floor and held up the original bag with the other. 

You nodded in his direction before taking a handful of the same utility pants you'd changed into and stuffing a few pairs into your awaiting backpack. You grabbed another few pairs and stuffed them further into the sack before ultimately deciding what you'd captured had been enough. You then moved to the other side of the store and repeated the process with T-shirts and other wilderness clothing. 

Daryl released a long breath and continued his search for more supplies. 

-----

You scooped up the last of the memory foam as Daryl pulled out the supplies from the duffles you'd filled throughout the day. He'd already finished securing the mall fence enough to be safe for your overnight stay. Small establishments in malls were all equipped with private gates. When it was closing time, the gate could be pulled down, and that'd be the closing sign for the night. Now the gates would help keep out walkers. 

Which is precisely what you'd use them for. 

The sky had begun to darken—the sun disappearing behind the horizon. Walkers began to populate the parking lot outside of the mall. Daryl and yourself had vertically flipped mattresses before piling them against the gates. Then, you both had taken apart a bed and used the fabrics and frames to cover the gaps in the built-in gate. If there were any breaches in other areas of the mall, the mattresses would keep you and Daryl out of the sight of the intruding walkers. 

Plus, You'd convinced Daryl that the memory foam inside would serve well as poor-man medical supplies. You'd left two mattresses for yourselves and carved out whatever memory foam would fit into the bag you and Daryl hadn't already packed. 

"Lotions?" Daryl questioned as the ruffling of a bag sounded through the small, empty space you'd inhabit for the night. 

"Yep, Women at the prison would like the lotion. It smells good, and keep a bottle of shampoo out." 

Now, where was the zipper? Your hands traveled along the expanse of a memory foam-filled bag. When your palm caught the opening, your fingers followed the cool, bumpy metal. They discontinued their path when they found and grabbed hold of the tiny handle that would allow the bumps to click together and complete the packing process. With one hand, you held the two ends of the stuffed bag together. With the other, you pulled the tiny zipper handle along the path of the jagged metal lines and sealed the duffle while staring into the deep, dark void ahead of you.

Another zipper being zipped killed the silence that followed Daryl's quietness. The noise of the zipper had signaled he'd been finished rifling through your bag. You turned your head in his direction. Well, where you thought his direction would be. 

Another zipper. This time being... Unzipped? Had he unzipped a second bag, or had he rezipped the bag he'd been rifling through earlier? He had your bag. Your bag contained a flashlight. Is that what he was searching for? It should be. If a hand was in front of you, the dark void cast over your eyes would make it impossible to register it. 

You placed your hands on the cool floor in front of you. Performing a light sweep to clear your path. When your hands collided with no further obstacles, you proceeded to shift your weight. Your hands supporting your head and shoulders as you moved your knees to prop the second half of your body up. 

You slowly itched forward. Your hand settling on an area further in front of you and your opposite knee following in suit. 

For animals, the loss of vision meant death. If a mouse couldn't see, how would it find its food? How would it make its way through a structure without being caught by a predator or stumbling into something dangerous? 

Before the apocalypse, human blindness could be worked with and still be survived. Now, the loss of vision was just as much of a death sentence as a bite. Blindness ensured that you wouldn't have the necessary sense to save yourself when a walker was on top of you. If you'd taken the route of running, where would you run to? What if a separate walker intercepted your path, but you were blind to the obstacles in the way of survival?

The darkness you were in the middle of was a void. A void that swallowed your every sound and crushed your lungs. Fingers... Rotten fingers clutched your upper arm. More of them moving onto the cold skin of your cheek. Your arms shook, your brow furrowing, and your eyes clamping shut. Where was the sound? Where was Daryl?

Where is anything? Where are your arms? They're gone... So are your legs. Where is the air? You can't find the air. If there's no air, you'll suffocate. If you suffocate, who'll help Daryl get the bags back to the prison? Where is the prison? You can't die now. You have to help Daryl. People at home are relying on you to provide supplies. Please not yet. No, this can't happen. 

Your muscles clenched around your bones tightly enough to shatter them. The world was pitch black, and the roaring of blood in your ears dampened your ability to comprehensibly hear. It was a perfect time for the hands to drag you into the bottomless pits of despair, death, and self-undoing. How would you stop them? How could you fight and live to tell the tale?

The warm, rotten flesh of the hands smoothed along your skin, moving down your arms and your wrists, your weapon wielders. The hands were here to take away your primary defense method before feasting on your live flesh and taste the warmth of your blood.

Wait... Warm? Since when do the hands of walkers, of death bringers bear... warmth?

Light entering your sealed retinas caused your head to whip up from its slumped-over position between your shoulders. Light? If you were blind, would you be able to see the light? Were you dead? You had to be. The light was chasing away the darkness. The hands had withdrawn, and the pressure was disappearing from your bones. If this was the afterlife, then it was safe to open your eyes, right? You were dead. Nothing could kill you when you were dead. 

When your eyelids lifted, Daryl was in the process of backing away from the dimly lit lantern and moving towards you for the second time. His arm outstretched, his hand returning to your cheek graciously and lightly, featherily stroking your skin. 

"Are you dead too?" 

Daryl's head slightly tilted, his brow furrowing, "Nah," 

The man's other hand moved to the nape of your neck. As if grounding you to him instead of allowing you to float away. Keeping the shadows from swallowing you after you drifted into the voidian abyss, melting into the dark to never be seen or heard from again. 

"You ar'ight?" 

A deep inhale and a deeper exhale. You weren't dead. The hands were capable of pulling heads from their shoulders, but they were cradling you so gently. How could you not feel safe? They weren't here to drag you into the bottomless pits of despair, death, and self-undoing. They were here to break you away from the paralyzing fear that came with the dark in the apocalypse. 

Daryl's exhales fanned across your face. You only needed to lean forward a couple of inches, and your lips would touch. His facial hair had whisps of gray. Grime, blood, and grease caked his shoulders down to his collarbone. His eyes, his eyes were a mesmerizing Caribbean sea blue. If you stared for too long, the waves of his iris' would swallow you, and you'd never return to reality ever again. 

If it weren't for the dirtiness in his skin, you would have allowed yourself to drift off into the sea of his gorgeous blue eyes. 

"You kept a bottle of shampoo out?" 

Daryl moved away from you, picking up a plastic bottle from behind him. As he held the bottle out to you, you shifted your weight to rest on your knees. You sat in an upright position, your hands being freed from the burden that came with keeping your shoulders upright. 

You accepted the shampoo held in Daryl's hand, "Get me a water bottle," 

He nodded before moving behind him and ruffling through an opened bag. 

"Then stand up and take off your clothes." 

The shuffling of the bag was put to an abrupt end, Daryl's light tuffs of air freezing in time along with the movements of his muscles.  His breath caught in his throat, and his mind raced with possible meanings behind your words. Did you just tell - order him to strip? What did you mean? Were you trying to undress him to embark on a sexual fantasy that involved... him? 

"I'm not trying anything... sexy. I just refuse to sleep with you when you're caked in -" You gestured from Daryl's waist to the tip of his head "- That" 

Daryl furrowed his brows and inspected the areas of his body you'd gestured to. His skin was its usual color. His clothing was normal. Was it not? Was the sleeveless too coolly dressed for the occasion? Was he sweaty? Did he spill something all over himself during breakfast? What the hell did you mean? You'd slept in worse conditions back at the Quarry. 

"M' Fine" 

"Yes, you are, but that's a fresh mattress when we've been sleeping on prison cots" You tip-toed to the gutted mattress adjacent to the untainted bed, "We should... savor it." 

Daryl's brow relaxed, his shoulders sagging as his gaze fixed itself on your hopeful expression. You weren't... wrong. A nice, soft, genuine bed would do wonders for his back as he rested his eyes for the night. When was the last time you'd gotten a good night's sleep - together? Your methodical breathing lulling him into a sense of foreign safety. The sensation of your skin against his as he pressed his lips against your bare shoulder. 

A quiet inhale and a longer exhale. 

What was there for Daryl to lose or gain? If he removed his clothing in front of you... You'd wash him? The concept caused his head to spin and a scoff to rise in the back of his throat. Why wouldn't he? But why would he? It was a stupidly long process for a temporary gain. 

You wanted to wash him. You would clean the dirt from his skin, so enjoying the night on a bed would be more... comfortable. To you, the lack of grime would make the experience more relaxing and feel less like the apocalypse. Allowing you to wash him would give you... satisfaction right? Taking his clothes off in front of you, letting you use the shampoo on his skin... Would make you happy? A frown pulled at his lips. He didn't want to do any of this. Couldn't he just sleep in the bed? A little dirt never hurt anybody. 

Although, on his part, a small sacrifice would be worth your glee. That's all taking his clothes off would be, right? A small thing. He wasn't... exposing himself in front of you. Not at all. He was just keeping his clothes from being wet through the night. He wasn't... doing anything he hadn't done before.

Except he was. Naked sex was chasing an orgasm without clothing on. No one was staring or assessing appearances. If Daryl stripped in front of you without being in a situation where you'd been focusing on pleasuring one another, then you'd - see him. What if you didn't like what you saw? What if, after seeing him, you realized you didn't want him as much as you did before? 

Daryl's dick brought you pleasure. That much was obvious. You'd never leave him for any incapabilities in sexually satisfying you, but what if you prefer the way someone else looked? Daryl's facial hair was scruffy, his eyes were often bloodshot, and his skin was rough compared to yours. He didn't bring home flowers or groceries. He was more qualified to take life on a motorcycle rather than life in a minivan. What if, after taking in what he had to offer, you decided he wasn't worth it? 

"You could keep your underwear on." 

Instead of replying, he fished a water bottle from his backpack and shrugged off his angel-winged vest. He was going to... let it happen. Daryl wanted you to belong to him, all of you. He longed for the mornings he could wake up cradling you in his arms. He'd never been willing to listen to someone so intently as much as he'd been with you. He wanted to be yours as much as he wanted you to be his. If he was going to... act upon that, he needed to be willing to do things like this, no matter how out of his comfort zone it was. 

When he stood up and took in your position, he was pleasantly surprised to see you... without a shirt. Why were you without a shirt? Seeing you without the cloth covering your skin was both a dose of courage and an immense turn-on, but that didn't explain your lack of a shirt. 

You bent down and retrieved a small memory foam patch from the bed. Your utility pants tightening around your ass was a sharp punch to the gut. The tightening in his pants was a reminder that Daryl wasn't fully undressed. He brought his thumb to his mouth and lightly began chewing on the skin there. Daryl moved his hand back to his side when you straightened your back, but he continued fiddling with the nail. Daryl had to remove his trousers and the shirt before the washing could... happen. 

Fuck he hated this. Not only was it vastly uncomfortable, but it was pointless. Daryl was just going to get dirty again tomorrow. Why would he need to be washed today? Just for a nice night in a bed? He wasn't drunk enough for this. It was pointless and time-consuming. 

When you turned around and stuffed the memory foam padding into one of your pockets and stuffed the other with the bottle of shampoo, Daryl's mental turmoils calmed to disagreeing whispers. You were gorgeous. The faint light of the lantern caused a soft golden glow to encapture the beauty of your skin. Your exposed curves and edges were viewable to him and only him. When your eyes found his blue iris', any whispers of protest in his mind were instantly put to rest. 

Your eyes were so... encapturing. The colored pupils were so intense and soft at the same time. They bared into Daryl's eyes with innocence and adoration that was utterly, wholly foreign to him. No wonder he would do something like this for you. All you had to do was maintain eye contact with him, and he'd bend over backward as long as those orbs would continue to gaze at him with such pure devotion. 

When your hands began to slowly and sensually unbuttoned his flannel from the neckline, any possible regret flowed from his body quicker than the blood flowing to his crotch. Daryl fiddled with his mouth, his teeth softly grinding together. 

When his flannel was unbuttoned, the breaths coming from his brief exhales filled the silence in the room. The hairs at the back of his neck stood on end. The faint glow of the lantern only fueled the warmth flowing like magma in his veins. Your fingers delicately caressed against his sides before pushing back the fabric of his flannel, exposing Daryl's midsection.

When you were satisfied with your work on his waist, you dragged your hands up his sides, leaving a trail of goosebumps on his abdomen. The man's breath was shallow and weak. His heartbeat raced and thumped erratically. Your palms slithered under the cloth hanging on his shoulders. You softly kneaded the skin below the flannel, then trailed your hands down his shoulder blades and down to his elbows. The flannel slipped down his wrists, where he caught it and threw it into the gutted mattress for safekeeping. Letting it fall to the floor would defeat the entire purpose of this... experience.

Your chin rose to stare into the vast oceans of Daryl's eyes as you softly unbuckled his belt. The metal clinking together only fueled the burning hot tension filling the scent of the air. Your gaze was meek, innocent, and almost apologetic as you unbuttoned his jeans and unzipped the fly. Daryl's breath was knocked clean from his lungs as your hands circled around his waist to his lower back and slipped your thumbs into the belt loops. When you pulled the denim over the curve of his ass, the man's muscles tightened around his frame, his knuckles balling into fists. Your tugging was met with faint resistance when the hemline of Daryl's pants went below his hips. It hadn't proved to be a problem as you circled your hands over his sides. Your attention turning from his eyes to his lower body. Your fingers digging into his front pockets as you gave one last slow tug, his denim pooling at his ankles.

You lifted your chin, initiating eye contact with Daryl a second time. You ran your hands down his forearms and wrapped your fingers around the neck of the water bottle, then you softly drew the bottle out of his already fragile hold. Daryl's eyes searched through the vast expanse of your iris' as you backed away from your previous almost chest-to-chest position. His fingers tingled with the urge to keep you close. His chest ached to feel your curves press against his bare skin. Daryl was done waiting. He was done teasing. What would he gain by further delaying his urges?

The man bent down and unhooked his pants from his ankles, stumbling away from the denim unceremoniously. When he was free from the pants, he threw them in the same direction he threw his flannel. He didn't waste any time seizing you by the waist and molding your chests together. Pressing his half-hard crotch against your pelvis and attaching his lips to your neck, savoring the unique flavor of your skin. 

A strike of white-hot pleasure shot from the pit of your stomach to the tip of your clit. Daryl's tongue peeked from behind his lips and quickly darted out of his mouth for a quick taste of your neck. The action caused a tuff of pleasured air to escape your lungs. You wrapped your arms around the man's neck, the hand free of the water bottle reached to the back of his head and gripped the hair at the bottom of his scalp, giving a soft, experimental tug. Daryl's deep, gravelly groan was followed by a jump in his pants and an expansion of the tent forming in his boxers. 

"We-" You were cut off by a gentle nip to your neck, "We don't have any condoms." 

"So?" 

Daryl's hand moved from the top of your waist to your lower back, resting at the hem of your pants. 

"So we can't... do it." 

"Can't do what?" Daryl moved his lips to the skin just under your earlobe. A harsh bite to the sensitive skin of your neck caused your back to arch further into his chest and the muscles of your lower body to clench around nothing. You needed to hold a boundary. You weren't going to risk having a kid... the man pressed against you wasn't making it easy to say no. 

"We can't fuck Daryl."

He replied with a slow, heavy thrust into your core. His hips moving back before slamming into yours so forcibly that it sent a whimper of pleasure to rip itself from your lips. His hands traveled around the bare skin of your back. Starting from the bottom of your lower spine and pausing at the strap of your bra. When he slipped a finger between your skin and the stretchy material. The entirety of your skin erupted in an all-consuming flame, goosebumps traveling throughout your body.

Condoms be damned. Who needs protection, right? As long as Daryl pulls out instead of finishing inside you, the chances of pregnancy were low. You wanted him now. You wanted the pulsing of his cock inside of you as huffs, and quiet grunts of pleasure filled the air of the closed-off mattress store. You slipped your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, prepared to pull them down, and proceed with the deed. 

That's when Daryl decided he didn't want to pulse inside of you. The man pulled away from your body. Unlatching his lips from below your ear and moving his arms back to his sides. With the lack of the man's body heat, the air around you was cold and empty. Your skin was no longer radiating heat, and the tingle between your thighs began to cool down. 

"Wh-"

"Well, come on," Daryl gestured to his chest, "ya said you wou'dn't sleep with me 'till I was clean." 

You gaped at him, your jaw pulled to the floor and your eyes wide. This cheeky little - not little - this cheeky fucker was going to use your words against him? That... wasn't fair. Ok, if he was going to be like that, you would just wash him then. You wouldn't try your attempts at seducing him or beg him to fuck you into the mattress. You were just going to wash him up and go to sleep. It was ok that you weren't getting fucked tonight. Sleeping was nice too. You wouldn't play into his game by playing into his game. 

You unscrewed the water bottle, stuffing the top into your back pocket. You stepped closer to Daryl, your chests only inches apart. His eyes followed your every move as if you were a snack he wasn't patient enough to wait for. His predatory gaze sent shivers down your spine and strikes of pleasure to shoot like lightning between your legs. 

Your unoccupied hand unveiled the memory foam sponge you planned to use to scrub his skin from any grime or potential dirtiness. With your eyes trained on the man's collarbone, you brought the water bottle above Daryl's shoulder and poured the water over his chest. The droplets cascaded down his chest, dripping down every edge, curve, and divot his skin had to offer. 

Your throat had begun to dry. Imagine if you could just - lick the water from Daryl's chest to his collarbone. The liquid dripping from the man's skin would undoubtedly serve in purging the thirst rising in the back of your throat from the rather heated atmosphere. Too bad the water was mixed with dirt, sweat, and blood. 

You poured water over the memory foam, drenching the surface before squeezing the contents over Daryl's midsection, wetting his skin to allow the soap to be put to proper use. Next, you had to uncap the bottle of shampoo. 

When you'd unclicked the switch nozzle thing on the top of the bottle, you poured a sizable glob of shampoo onto the spongy memory foam before kneading the suds into the mattress material. 

When you were satisfied with the results, you slapped the soapy foam onto Daryl's chest. Your lips quirked up, and a slight sound of amusement rose to the back of your throat as wetness spattered around the area of impact. Daryl's moved his neck, shying away from the suds that had been launched in different directions.

How long would it take to scrub away the dirt caking his surface? Daryl wasn't a piece of Tupperware that one could harshly scrub before throwing into a dishwasher. The man was a human being who had skin and bones and flesh. Bathing him utilizing the vanilla-scented shampoo would be an art, not a science. You wouldn't treat this as if you were washing a car. You'd treat this as if you were lightly polishing an antique sword you'd save for generations to come. 

You softly swiped the soapy memory foam across Daryl's wet bicep. The suds turning from white to a dull brown as you continued to knead his flesh beneath the soft material. The man allowed his arms to be gently handled and caressed as you softly worked the grime off his skin from his shoulder to his wrist. Daryl wasn't just aesthetically pleasing or sexually astounding. He was a person so good and so unknowingly worthwhile. How many times had his hands defended something with such magnitude that afterward, they hurt? How often did he risk them to collect supplies for someone important enough to him to warrant his consideration and protection?

The scent of vanilla swirled in the air as you rinsed away the browned suds from his limbs. The beautiful pale of his skin revealing itself through the thick layer of dirt that once covered his original tone. When the skin of his front was clear of any foreign substances, you threw the shampoo-soaked memory foam into a random unoccupied corner. Then, you rinsed the residual suds off of your fingers before screwing the water bottle shut and setting it onto the nightstand Daryl had set the lantern upon. The shampoo bottle had been carelessly thrown to the floor after you'd drenched the makeshift sponge. 

Without further ado, you turned your attention to the vast oceans of Daryl's eyes before hooking your wet hands behind his head and pulling his lips to yours. It's why you'd removed your shirt earlier. You'd wanted the option to press yourself against the man without dampening your new top. 

Daryl's hands slithered around your waist. His left arm itching dangerously down your lower back as his right hand moved to cradle the back of your neck. You softly caressed his lips with yours, careful to be firm but not harsh enough to clash teeth. Your skin erupted in excitement as you fisted Daryl's hair, tingles moving down your spine as you savored the feeling of the man arching into you. After pulling you further into his chest, Daryl licked your bottom lip before tilting his head to further deepen the kiss. 

You ran your hands down his neck and to his shoulders, softly gripping the joints as Daryl's tongue freely explored your mouth. His fervor caused your heartbeat to pound erratically and your lower muscles to twitch in anticipation. When you ran your hands down his shoulder blades, Daryl's lips detached themselves from yours, his arms moving to rest around your waist. 

The man's blue orbs peered into your eyes with such a welcoming intensity. He studied not only you - but your very soul. His gaze hadn't wavered, and his body was stiff as a board under your fingertips. You stared back, your watch lacking the same intensity but unwavering nonetheless. Daryl pursed his lips and closed his eyes. He moved his forehead to rest on yours as his knuckles tightened into fists behind you. Was he ok? Had something happened?

Before you could verbalize your worry, Daryl's forehead removed itself from yours as his arms unwound themselves from around your back. You tilted your head as your own arms fell from his shoulders. The previous warmth of Daryl's skin leaving an empty coldness on yours. Was something wrong? 

Daryl took a long exhale before turning around. He stood before you with his back turned to your front. You were puzzled at; first, your brows furrowed as he turned his head to lightly peer at you expectantly.

You hadn't washed his back. You'd left the area untouched. What if he didn't want to be touched there? And if you did, What if it made him uncomfortable? Daryl was already uncomfortable with the idea of you bathing him the way that you had. You didn't want to add to his discomfort directed towards a situation you'd put him in. So, you didn't say anything about washing that area of him. 

Was that what he was prompting you to do?

Your mind span from the influence of the high Daryl gave you. He had been willing to bare himself in front of you so openly. The adoration swelling in you from his willingness to be so voluntarily vulnerable with you was almost overwhelming. The raw affection stirring in the pit of your belly knocked your breath from your lungs and chased away the coldness left from Daryl's skin departing from yours.

You bent over to retrieve the water bottle, your gaze never moving from his.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Daryl huffed out a scoff, "Jus' get on with it, woman." 

His continuation to sass you pulled a slight smirk from your lips that disappeared after you broke eye contact with him. Your gaze moved to scan the flesh of his back. In the dim lighting the lantern provided, Daryl's skin glowed like a golden sunset after the sun disappeared behind the horizon. The curves of his shoulder blades and spine shifted along with the movements of his lungs and limbs. Scarred tissue was littered throughout the skin of his back like strokes of fresh paint on an artist's canvas. There was something poetic about his scars. You shouldn't romanticize the man's pain, but his marks weren't... frightful. Not that scars were frightful, but his spoke so much louder than any of yours. 

The scars were proof that Daryl wasn't dealt an easy hand throughout his life. The man may have lived around harsh circumstances throughout his development, but somehow, he grew into something so caring, so beautiful, so - good. 

Daryl was a rose that grew from concrete, and the former wounds were proof that he'd lived through hardships that molded him into something that made him different from others. His scars were proof that he was resilient. His personality and strength were evidence that he could produce the thorns responsible for protecting both himself and those he valued. 

You unscrewed the cap of the water bottle after you picked the shampoo bottle up from the floor. The lantern's soft glow highlighted every indent on the slightly raised skin of Daryl's scars. The dim lighting caused his tattoo design to seem as if a shaped shadow had settled over his shoulder blade. His back was a painted canvas. Every detail becoming more and more authentically, beautifully, unique the longer your gaze traveled over his skin. 

Daryl's gaze hadn't left the dark corner in front of him throughout your preparation for the... washing. The lack of physical contact on his back caused his palms to sweat and the thump of his heart to overpower all other sounds present in the room. What were you doing back there? Why was he dumbly standing here if you weren't going to finish the process of washing him?

Of course, he should have known better than to think you wouldn't be appalled by the sight of his scarred skin. After all, what kind of man lets something like this happen to him? How could you be attracted to him when you deserved something so much better? You probably didn't even want to touch him anymore. There was nothing about him that was attractive, and now you'd figured it out too. 

Before he could growl a strained, 'forget it.', cold water spilled over his shoulders and spread a layer of goosebumps over his arms. A shallow breath escaped his lungs. Daryl lowered his head in the direction of the floor, shutting his eyes as your hands made contact with the back of his shoulders. The scent of vanilla that invaded his nostrils and the tingle of your palms tenderly dragging from his shoulder blades to his back with a gentle firmness caused shivers to sprint down his spine. Your fingers stroking his skin smoothed his intense waves of uncertainty and regret into a calm serenity and relief.

This was the first time he'd ever displayed himself so willingly. He hadn't expected it to be so... alleviating. He'd never showed anyone such raw vulnerability before. It wasn't easy; it made his palms sweat, his limbs turn to lead, and his heartbeat had begun to rush erratically. But, in the end, letting someone see him was a heavy, crushing weight being lifted from his shoulders. 

His scars weren't something he hid, but they weren't something he allowed people to see. They were a part of himself that he had no interest in sharing with others... but now he was sharing it with you. He trusted you, wholly, implicitly, unconditionally. It made sense that he'd shown you a feature of himself that he wasn't proud of. You didn't treat that feature with the same harshness he treated it with, nor were you as astonished as someone like Merle when your eyes were met with the discolored skin on his back. It was a breath of fresh air he hadn't known he'd needed.

Your reaction wasn't a reaction. You didn't say anything... consoling, hell, you didn't say anything. You just continued kneading the grime off of Daryl's back. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was tense. Packed with an unspoken emotional intensity that neither of you had addressed, but what was there to say? Should Daryl thank you for what you were doing? It would come out forced and strange. If you were to say anything about his scars, Daryl wouldn't respond. What could be said without driving a wedge between each other? The silence was better.

You poured the last of the water in the bottle over the backend of Daryl's shoulders. The brown suds spattering onto the floor and revealing a lighter skin tone on Daryl's back. The man remained in his place, as still as a statue. If it wasn't for the light fidgeting of his thumbs and the bowing of his head, you would have assumed he was one. Your lip quirked up as you wrapped your arms around the man's waist from behind. Pressing a quick peck to the divot in his spine between his shoulder blades. 

"Can we go to sleep now?" 

Your grip loosened on the man as he turned in your arms. Daryl lifted an arm to rest on your hip. The two of you were chest-to-chest as you closed the space between the two of you. Resting your head on his body and locking your hands together behind his back. Daryl's arms moving to interlock behind you.

"Mhm," Daryl grunted. 

The warmth of Daryl's skin radiated yours as you clung to his chest. The heat spreading a pleasant satisfaction from your skin to the tips of your fingers. Couldn't you stay awhile? Just like this? Daryl was so warm, and the ache in your shoulders began to spread throughout your body, and the heat of Daryl's was the only comfort you'd found. Your eyelids weren't as light as they used to be when you blinked. 

A light, playful tap to your ass startled you awake. Since when had you closed your eyes?

"Putchur shirt back on."