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sugar-phoenix · 9 hours

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cowboy, you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly. ✦

synopsis: Boothill doesn't do things quietly. He's loud, and messy, and he likes doing things his way. Even though these all annoy you somewhat, the cowboy starts growing on you. And then one day, he does something unexpected. tags: f!reader, f/m, no smut, fluff, light angst, mentions of Boothill's past a/n: 2.5k words, this was a lot of fun to write. hope you guys enjoy it!

ao3 link here!

Your heels clacked as you walked down the halls, the ground littered with bodies and empty bullet shells. You sighed. Unlike Boothill, who left the remains of IPC soldiers and his mark everywhere in the form of bullet holes dotting the walls, you preferred to do your work neater, quieter. His loud whoops and hollers echoed down the corridor from ahead, making you cringe.

There were many things Boothill was in excess of. Too fierce. Too exposed. Too gleeful. Too loud.

You were not fond of loud.

“I got the place cleared for you, ma’am.” Boothill’s voice rang out like a bell.

“I noticed,” you responded, turning into the server room. In front of you, server towers loomed overhead, blinking with a million eyes. “You’re not very subtle, cowboy.”

“Subtle? Why would I wanna be subtle when I could strike fear into the heart of the IPC?” Boothill chuckled.

“Being subtle can be pretty scary,” you mused, going to the main terminal and typing the code you were given. “What could instigate more fear than an invisible threat you can’t see?”

“I dunno. I like to think that knowin’ who your enemy is and knowin’ that nothing can stop him is way more scary, lady.”

Boothill sank his pistol into his holster, then strode over to where you were standing, the sound of his body moving like oiled machinery.

“After all, ain’t knowin’ how you’ll die the most terrifyin’ thing of all?”

“Touché,” you conceded, scanning the database for the folder you wanted. Boothill waited at your side, and you felt a little shock that the man who was, only minutes ago a whirlwind of gunmetal and gleaming sharp teeth, could now stand so still.

Finally, you found the folder you were looking for, and you loaded it into a drive you inserted into the terminal. Boothill had offered the use of his own ports as a way to store the data, but you had refused. Data was no good to you if you could not parse through it with your own eyes.

“Alright, we’re done here,” you said as the download finished. “Let’s get out of this place.”

The cowboy at your side said nothing but smiled, flashing his razor teeth. You both stepped out into the hallway, only to be met with a new squadron of IPC guards.

“Looks like they sent the calvalry,” you remarked.

“Yeah? Well, if you know anythin’ about cowboys, you’ll know that we don’t take kindly to calvalry.”

And with that, he was off, shooting and hollering and kicking. You ducked back into the server room, letting the cowboy have his fun, and shook your head. When the sound of gunfire had stopped, Boothill leaned around the corner.

“‘S all clear! I took care of ‘em.”

You stepped out to find a pile of bodies and more bullet holes in the walls. Well, I guess this time it couldn’t be helped.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like my handiwork?” Boothill commented at your slightly dismayed expression.

“Cowboy,” you sighed, “you have a hard time wrapping things up neatly.”

He only laughed, a rough raucous sound that reverberated down the hallway as the two of you made your exit.

✦✦✦

You stood in the middle of the ballroom in a shape-hugging red gown, fanning yourself with a paper hand fan. Eyes searching the surrounding crowd, you looked for the familiar cowboy hat. You found Boothill standing against the back of the room, looking absolutely miserable in his suit. A smile creeped up your lips. It took a lot of hemming and hawing to get him to wear that suit.

“I need my body bare, otherwise I’ll overheat,” he’d said.

“Boothill, darling, it’ll just be for the night. You’re going to cause an uproar if you just walk in with that sorry excuse for a jacket. It would be absolutely scandalous. We need to be subtle tonight.” You had adopted the pet name after a few missions with him. The two of you were slowly becoming fond of each other.

“What’s wrong with a little ruckus?” Boothill had asked. “I like ruckus.”

“I know you do, but just this once we could do without it. Come on. You get to cause ruckus every other mission we’ve had so far. You can live without making noise just this once.”

To your surprise, he conceded, taking the suit from your hands and walking to a room, muttering and cursing under his breath.

Now you felt a little sorry as you watched him. He looked like a dog that had been forced into a humiliating outfit just for its owner’s enjoyment.

Your eyes met, and you flashed your fan over your face. The signal. You had gotten what you came here for. Relief flashed over Boothill’s face, and he made his way through the crowd to you as you started walking towards the exit.

You stopped abruptly when you saw the exit.

“What’s wrong, darlin’?” Boothill asked, then, “oh,” as he saw what caused you to pause.

The archways were lined with more security guards than either of you had remembered when you first came in.

“They know we’re here,” you whispered. “They’re waiting to catch us on the way out.”

Boothill said nothing. You saw the calculations happen in his crosshair eyes. Slowly, he smiled, revealing his shark teeth in a devilish grin.

“Oh Boothill. No.” You said with dread.

“Oh but we don’t have much o’ a choice, do we?” he whispered. “Just let me do what I do best, darlin’.”

You looked at him, and he caught the worry in your eyes.

“Don’t worry ‘bout me. I always get out, don’t I?”

You sighed.

“Fine.”

Boothill smiled wider than he had the entire night, and stepped away from you, making his way back into the crowd. You reached under the slit in your dress, hand on the dagger strapped to your thigh. The feeling of the hilt under your hand grounded you. It wasn’t long until you heard three deafening gunshots, and glass raining down from above. Chaos and panic erupted, and over all of them, the familiar laugh you’d grown to love. You watched as the archways were flooded, and the guards rushed towards the cause of the ruckus.

Taking the chance, you merged in with the panicked crowd streaming outside the ballroom, as more gunshots echoed behind you. Once you were out, you rushed to your sports car, and got into the driver’s seat. It roared to life as you turned the ignition, and you took it out of the car park and drove it to wait in front of the entrance. Panicked partygoers ran around your car, but your eyes were focused on the entrance. The way you white-knuckled the steering wheel would definitely leave imprints.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered. “Come on, cowboy.”

A beat passed, then two, then ten, and Boothill was nowhere to be seen. You got anxious, watching the large golden arches that led into the ballroom with the giant crystal chandelier that hung above them outside.

Just when you were about to accept that Boothill had been captured, or worse, dead, he emerged from the entrance, a crazed grin on his face, his expensive suit torn in shreds. You sighed in relief. Just before he reached the car, he turned around, aiming upwards, and pulled his trigger. Five bullets flew through the air, severing the chains of the giant chandelier. The guards chasing Boothill were trapped in the ballroom as the light fixture fell to the ground in front of them, shattered glass scattering everywhere. Boothill cackled, then leapt over the hood, taking his seat in the passenger side. You wasted no time flooring the gas pedal, the car screeching away from the ballroom.

“Should teach those muddlefudgers not to waste money on showin’ off,” Boothill laughed.

You rolled your eyes, smiling.

“Hard time wrapping things up neatly,” you said.

“That’s just my trademark, darlin.’”

The two of you glanced at each other, grinning wildly, as your car sped into the night.

✦✦✦

You gazed out the windows of the Astral Express. The endless expanse of space unrolled before you, a landscape of endless opportunities.

Boothill had been called to the Astral Express for a favor, and he thought you should tag along.

“They’re a pretty cool bunch, you should come meet ‘em. Who knows, they might come in handy for ya in the future.”

You didn’t need the cowboy’s persuasion to come and meet the famed Nameless. You were more than happy for a chance to come face to face with these trailblazers, to converse with them and see how they operated.

The Astral Express crew surprised you at first. They were less of an organized team and more like a ragtag family of people from all different walks of life. Pom Pom, the little conductor of the express, scrutinized you for a bit until they sniffed (disapprovingly or approvingly you couldn’t tell), and announced, “Pom Pom welcomes you aboard the Express.”

Soon after, you got to meet the rest of the Express crew. There was March 7th, the cheerful girl with bubblegum-pink hair. There was Dan Heng, the quiet, reserved young man who often kept to himself in the Astral Express' database archives. There was Stelle, the mysterious gray-haired girl who was apparently a repository for a Stellaron. She kept quiet at first, but soon you learned she had a joke for every occasion and didn't hesitate to crack one even at the most inopportune moments, to the chagrin of her companions. Then to the two stewards of the Express: Himeko, the red-haired, confident navigator, and Welt, deep in thought and with a walking stick he kept close to himself at all times.

Boothill seemed to fit right in. He was the one who introduced you excitedly to Dan Heng, cackling and talking about how they were “best buds.” Despite Dan Heng’s embarassment at first, you could tell he enjoyed the presence of the cowboy. In that way, you felt a sort of kinship with him.

The two of you hung out on the Express for a few days, as Boothill helped them with one of their trips. They were currently orbiting a planet named Jarilo VI. Boothill had encouraged you to stay aboard the Express and take a break, but today, Himeko saw you watching the window.

"If you want, you can go down with the rest of them," she said.

"I think I might,” you responded. “Forget what Boothill said about taking a break, I'm at my happiest when I'm working on something anyway."

She smiled knowingly.

It wasn't long before you landed on the cold planet, and it was an even shorter time before you found the crew. Stelle, March, Dan Heng, and Boothill were in a clinic, accompanied by a small child with bright yellow hair and a doctor who wore a large apron. You'd soon come to know that these two were Hook and Natasha, respectively.

Boothill made a show of being upset that you weren't on the Express, but you could tell that he was very happy you had decided to join them after all.

Apparently the crew had been on a wild goose chase, and to your mild disappointment they were finished with the whole affair. Stelle, March 7th, and Boothill all attempted to explain the situation to you, and Dan Heng kept sighing and correcting them every five sentences, so in the end you understood very little.

As the four of you walked out of the clinic, Hook caught up to Boothill and tugged at his pants.

"You aren't leaving, mister, are you?"

Boothill turned around, and in a manner you'd previously thought uncharacteristic, he crouched down and ruffled the young girl's hair.

"I am, sweetheart," he replied.

"But, but, you're a member of the Moles now! You have to stay with us."

"Oh, and I'm only an *honorary* member?" Stelle asked, in mock anger. Hook giggled mischievously, then turned back to the cowboy.

"Also, I need your help with something," she added.

"Oh? What's that?" Boothill asked. Hook produced a strange trinket from one of her pockets.

"I wanna give this to my daddy, but I dunno how to wrap it up."

Boothill chuckled, ruffling her hair again. “Your daddy sure is lucky to have a little girl like you.”

Then he did something that was so unexpected, the action of it was seared into your memory forever.

Slowly, he took off the bandana from around his neck, and laid it flat on the ground. Then, he took the trinket from Hook's hands and put it on top of the bandana, in the center. Deftly, and with a gentleness you'd seen from him very rarely, Boothill wrapped up the object with careful folding and gentle knots, then presented the object to Hook.

"There you go. And once your daddy opens it, you can wrap the bandana around your own neck, and I'll be there with ya and the Moles in spirit."

Tears sprung to Hook's eyes and she surged forward, hugging his neck and wailing loudly. Boothill chuckled, patting her back tenderly.

✦✦✦

The crisis with Jarilo VI solved, you and Boothill bade the Astral Express crew goodbye and went on your way. In the small spaceship you sat in, you gave Boothill a look.

What Hook and the Astral Express Crew didn't know was that the bandana he wore around his neck was very dear to him. A remnant of his past, a past that he had talked very little about with you, even though the two of you had gotten very close with each other.

Boothill sighed, feeling your gaze on him. "You wanna ask me about what happened with the girl, I can tell."

"Well, I mean, if you don't want to talk about it, I guess that's fine with me--" you started.

"No, no it's fine. It's somethin' I should've told ya long before. It's just painful for me is all."

You wanted to tell him that it was okay for him not to tell you, but you couldn't bring yourself to speak.

"What I never told you before, darlin’, was that I used to have a little girl of my own."

You raised a hand to your mouth. Never in your life would you have thought that the man in front of you—loud, brash and reckless—was ever a father.

"Before I was a Galaxy Ranger, before I got this metal body that I have now, I used to be just a cowboy. And one day I found myself with a daughter. Precious thing, loved her to death." He paused, taking in a deep breath, then let it out. "The IPC, they came to our planet... and they took her away from me. Took her and my whole family away from me. Razed everything I had to the ground.

“That bandana I wore, well. It was my only reminder of her."

"Oh," you said, understanding why he was so guarded about it in the past. There was a long pause as you waited for Boothill to talk again.

"But that girl, Hook," he started again, "she… reminded me of my daughter." Boothill took a shuddering breath. He had lost his ability to cry a long time ago, and you knew this, but sometimes he did things that told you he was weeping, invisibly. Until now you hadn't known what about.

"They would have been friends," he said softly.

"I'm sure they would have," you agreed.

You thought about the way he wrapped the gift for Hook.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" you asked.

"Do what?" he replied.

"What you did with the gift. How you folded it."

"Oh, that," he chuckled. "Some things you pick up being a dad."

There was another pause before you decided to speak again. "Well, I'll admit I was wrong about you then."

"Wrong about what?" he asked, and you chuckled a little before answering.

"Turns out, cowboy, you do know how to wrap things up neatly."

Boothill laughed then, a soft, light sound, and you smiled.

comments are also very appreciated!

dividers by @cafekitsune

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1roentgen · 5 months

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#art is very nice and good #just saw some sick fanart of some show or something i’m not familiar with #not rlly drawing rn but remembered i still could if i wanted to #think maybe i’ll be ok #i still got my ocs if nothing else #they ain’t goin anywhere #been having a rather strange time lately #things are not bad not good not quite good enough #but drawing is still a thing. i could still make art #so it’s fine

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k9wa · 2 months

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⟁ A BULLET A DAY, ft. BOOTHILL.

⠀ — where teasing, annoying, poking and prodding all fall under the same category; flirting.

⚠︎︎ more mechanic! reader, gn, boothill being an idiot, flirting, suggestive, he has fake teeth to me, something about tension + leaving him high and dry is soooo ….

from this request !

it’s a miracle, truly, how boothill manages to be so tempting and endearing yet so utterly irritating and infuriating at the same time.

and it’s hot, sure, but that just makes it all the more annoying, leaves you frustrated and with an odd pool in your stomach.

boothill managed his way into your supply of bullets, happily tossing back the brass casings like a simple snack. it was a genius idea at the time, really, giving him a stomach that can store ammunition. though had you expected him to chew on the damn things instead of swallowing them— you know, like he was intended to— you would’ve just given him a little side bag to save yourself the work.

you half hoped the lead stuffing the things would seep into his still intact brain, but chastised yourself for the thought soon after having it. you don’t hate him that much. your brain should check back and try the thought again in twenty minutes.

“y’know what’d be real neat, buttercup?” boothill’s legs were kicked up lazily on your workbench as he sat next to you, waiting for you to finish a small modification on his revolver. “spikes in my boots.” he lifted a foot up, rolling his ankle a bit. “you know, them retractable ones. be able t’a have some real fun with those things.”

you snorted, his efforts to dodge his synesthesia beacon as entertaining as always.

“since when do i take requests?” you asked, eyes focused down on your work— far too used to his antics to lift your head anymore.

“since when d’you deny gettin’ to tinker with me?”

he brought his feet down to the floor and leaned forward on his thighs, the denim of his pants tightening around them. “what, gonna make me say please and thank ya now?”

you truly wanted to reply, say it wasn’t a half bad idea and that you’d look into the upgrade. until he started shaking a few bullets around in his palm like they were fucking almonds.

now boothill noticed the clench of your jaw, and oh how he revelled in it. he’s fully aware how the crunching of brass and lead peeves you, ie. you telling him to knock it off an hour ago— (“it ain’t hurtin’ nobody, is it now?”—) but you’re just so darn cute when you’re ticked off. he’s gotta push your buttons just a lil bit.

“somethin’ the matter?” the way his sharp teeth gleamed through that damn grin weren’t doing anything to help.

he took a bullet between his thumb and forefinger, the shiny gunmetal digits pinching the ammunition as he held it up next to you. “d’ya care for one, sugar plum?”

fine, you thought. two can play that game.

you tore your attention away from the old steel revolver, finally turning to look at him. boothill prepared for an insult, one he’d tell you was ‘flatterin’ and all,’ but it didn’t come.

you leaned towards his hand, keeping your eyes locked with his that glowed a familiar and faint red.

then you took the bullet between your tongue and top front teeth, gently pulling it out of his hands with your mouth.

his smirk actually dropped— you’d think someone stuck an infected usb into his ear with all the ideas that flooded the forefront of his brain, making his circuits just tingle with excitement. something about the hot single mechanic in his area.

you turned back to your desk, removing the bullet from your teeth and twirling it between your fingers idly as you gave a once over to his revolver, as if nothing had happened.

boothill blinked, chuckling gruffly with a shake of his head as he slumped back in his chair, flicking another bullet into the air with his thumb and catching it in his palm with a gentle clink! the cyborg gave a low whistle as he kicked his feet back up.

“ain’t you somethin’,” he drawled, earning a chuckle from you. “y’sure know how t’keep a man on his toes, don’t ya buttercup?”

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.” you only offered a hum, willfully ignorant to boothill’s colourful imagination.

“oh i’m real sure y’don’t.” he shook his head, another chuckle rumbling his chest and sending a shiver down your neck.

“say,” he leaned towards you, his shoulder to yours, feeling a little lucky and dropping his voice to a knee-weakening purr, “if that pretty mouth a’yers likes metal, i’m more’en happy t’a—”

“all done.”

all bets go down the drain. boothill deadpanned as you clicked the barrel of his gun into place and handed it back to him, standing up to stretch your arms.

“shops closed for today,” you fold them, leaning back against your bench. “you better get a move on before i have to kick you out.”

boothill’s eyes trailed up your figure, taking his sweet time finding your face. the cowboy raised an eyebrow into a cocky arch despite him swearing his body was on the verge of its cooling protocol.

“you keep woundin’ me, sugar.”

“i dunno what you mean, boothill.”

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?

#‘kawa he doesn’t chew—‘ REALITY IS WHAT I MAKE IT.#plus its funny #boothill #boothill x reader #boothill hsr #boothill x you #boothill headcanons #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail headcanons #hsr headcanons #UNEARTHLY

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bunny584 · 3 months

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A Girl with No Name

A/N: This one shot POURED out of me. All because of this incredible art by @chu-cho Thank you for creating this masterpiece. Hope I can do your art justice.

Ok, let me set the scene. Euphoria, SKINS, and Degrassi procreated in the basement of Kappa Alpha. Keg to the right. A designer tray of substances to the left. The boys in the middle. And you…you crack the whi— what? Who said that?

CW: Frat AU, implied substance use, mature 18+, MDNI

‘Ain’t a pill that I didn’t take’

Lyrics that feel too familiar tread water between Suguru’s ears. They glide along his skin. Which feels like silk, by the way.

Silk.

Who ever made that is a Nobel laureate.

‘Cause Imma sleep when I R.I.P.’

Euphoria.

Who chose the lights?

They’re vivid. Swarming. Like the walls are a tile dance floor. Yeah. Light picker deserves a Nobel too.

“You are so fucked right now.” His best friend’s sharp ass voice dices his lucid thoughts to smithereens.

“Shut up, Satoru.” He’s not wrong.

“We took the same shit.” Suguru perches on the solo cup ridden kitchen island. Sitting is good.

“Plus, I’m bigger than you.”

“If you wanna compare dicks just say so.” Satoru sneers, he’s cockier when inebriated.

In any other instance when Suguru is of sound mind, Satoru would’ve caught a jab to the chest. But two reasons why that can’t happen.

One, he’s currently tripping balls.

Two, you just walked in.

Like you own the house.

Maneuvering your body around the active pong table. Slipping past the chatty women gawking in their direction. Gearing for attack. Shifty and nervous, but the vodka cranberry is courage elixir.

The boys have about 45 seconds to engage with said women or divert.

But you are currently leaning over the counter reaching for a shot glass well out of your zip code. A little red dress on. All curves, no brakes. With an ass that could make anyone believe in God.

Sorry, girls. Tonight, they are going to divert.

Suguru catches Satoru’s heady gaze. No words needed. They share instincts. The boys have been in stride since the day they met.

They saunter over to the counter you’re mounting. An easy reach for them both.

“Didn’t realize your name was on the lease, princess.”

Satoru plucks the double shot glass down from Mount Everest. Handing it over between two fingers.

Still propped up on the counter with one knee, you peer down at them both. Letting the white noise of utter disinhibition drape the space between you.

Suguru planned on softening Satoru’s blow, but then you smile.

Cavalier and gorgeous.

Like it’s a golden ticket into spaces you don’t belong in.

The answer to questions people don’t realize need asking.

The cure for everything.

And right now? It is. The cure.

Suguru stands stupefied as you brace yourself on his shoulders. Thank God his hands still know what to do. They snake around your tapered waist and pull you to solid ground.

Speak, dumbass.

“You didn’t? It’s in the fine print.” Your voice beats him to it. And is fucking dessert.

Bad for you. Horrible for you. But good in the way self-indulgence is.

You take your shot glass (really, anything in the house is yours if you want it). And steer away to the refrigerator.

Your absence jumpstarts Suguru’s out-of-commission brain.

“Excuse him, he was raised by monkeys. Can I help you find something?”

Suguru and Satoru reposition themselves behind you while you rummage. Bent over at the waist. Head nearly submerged in the pull out freezer.

Are you doing this on purpose?

Are you trying to be a cocktease?

Satoru isn’t even attempting to stop eye-fucking you.

Suguru pulls his tongue ring in and out of his teeth. Anything to stop ruminating on the melody of sounds that’ll fill the room when his hips slam into your ass repeatedly.

“There it is,” you stand back to your full height. Triumphant. Jack Daniels in hand.

Your eyes are pools of quicksand. Why else would Suguru’s mouth feel more stuck than his feet?

“You’re a whiskey, kind of girl?” Satoru smirks, amused at your vice choice.

Again, the boys follow your movements like two expertly trained German Shepards. Flanking you when you settle at the corner of the island. Meticulously over-pouring your first double shot.

“I’m a good time kind of girl.” The way your slender neck tilts back is immoral. Throating the dark liquid like water.

…what else can that throat handle?

“Okay, good time girl wh—“

“Listen.” You snip Satoru’s snide remark at its base. Leaving both of them silent. Watching. Waiting.

“Brad,” you pointedly look at Suguru.

“And Chad,” eyes dagger into Satoru.

“Thank you for the warm welcome but I’m not interested in talking.”

The back of your hand swipes against your full lips. And Suguru can’t seem to pull his eyes off of them.

Satoru, after a moment of stunned silence, lets out his laugh. The one that means you’ve won his undivided attention for the night.

“Close, but no cigar baby. Try again.” Satoru leans onto his forearms. Tilting his intoxicated gaze up at you.

“Right idea, though.” Suguru chimes in. Tongue finally deciding to work.

“Ahh, I hear you loud and clear.” You retort, golden-ticket smile back on your face.

Your nose wrinkles in feigned concentration and Suguru nearly passes out.

Are you really this hot? Or is he just that blasted?

“Preppy,” your hand cups Satoru’s face. And his Adam’s Apple bobs deeply.

Good, Satoru is feeling this as hard as he is.

“And Edgy.” Suguru gawks at the way your lips hang open after your snarky guess at his name leaves your mouth.

Satoru’s wolfish chuckle is what re-tethers Suguru to this dimension. How the fuck is he keeping up with you right now?

“No, no. I got it.” You pipe up.

Placing one hand over each of theirs. Suguru greedily intertwines his long fingers between your petite ones.

“Thunder.” You squeeze Suguru’s hand and his soul nearly leaks out of his dick.

“And Lightening.”

Cotton candy dusts Satoru’s nose to his ears when you look up at him. Suguru can see the vulgar scenarios on cinematic repeat in his best friend’s mind.

And it’s tame compared to the ways Suguru wants to disrespect you.

“We can work with that.” Suguru flashes a smile of his own. Purposefully keeping his tongue ring out of your view.

“And what can we call you?” Satoru probes. Zeroed in because no one else in the room exists.

Your hands return back to your side, and Suguru misses your warmth immediately.

“No name.”

Flippant. Lighthearted like what you said was normal.

“What was that?” Satoru spurts out. Saliva bubbling in his half open mouth.

You glide away from the kitchen. Into the den with bodies colliding. Walls thrumming. Lights strobing.

Delicate hands cup around your mouth. Turning back to face your new guard dogs.

“Not here to talk, boys!”

The three of you are interwined at the center of the crowded room in seconds.

But time is warped.

Because Suguru is traversing Death Zone altitude on the mountain. And Satoru is swimming at Abyssal Zone depth in the ocean.

You are the 8th cardinal sin.

You writhe and undulate your curves in and out of their grasp. Gripping onto Satoru’s neck, strumming his undercut when he’s facing you. Winding your hips against Suguru’s crotch when he’s behind you.

Suguru’s cock has never been this hard, he’s half worried it could snap in half. Hissing against your neck. Groaning behind your ear. So goddamn grateful for the music drowning out his desperation.

But his skin is on fire. He can feel every vessel pulsate.

You are not a want.

You are a need.

“Need you.” Suguru gruffs in your ear. Flickering up to Satoru, who is mirroring his hooded gaze.

Suguru watches your pretty hand trail down Satoru’s chest. Satoru rolls his bottom lip under his teeth. Apt nickname you chose for him, because there are lightening bolts in his eyes.

“Take me upstairs,” you whisper back, tilting up to capture Suguru in your web.

And he is so captured. So entangled.

The boys lead you to Suguru’s bedroom in the frat house. Even though the walk felt like miles, exactly no time passes when you three close the door behind you.

Suguru’s lips magnet to yours. Insatiable in the way he sucks and pulls on your lips. Tongue tasting every corner of your sweet mouth.

Satoru drops his head to the crook of your neck. Sucking bruises. Tracing his large grasp up and underneath your dress. No time or room for manners with how his cock is tenting against its weak restraints.

“So eager, boys.” You giggle in between their hungry kisses.

And you’re right.

It’s embarrassing, their display right now.

But neither one of them have the capacity to stop.

And hold it together.

And lead. Like they both are used to.

“Sorry,” Satoru grunts into the feminine slope of your neck. You let out an airy laugh when he starts to dry hump you. Tickling both of their incapable brains.

You know Satoru is so far gone.

And Suguru is trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity but his cock simply won’t let him. Not the way it’s drenching his sweats with need.

“Take these off.” Melodic instructions fill Satoru and Suguru’s ears the minute you pull away from Suguru’s kiss. Your index finger hooked on both hems.

As if your voice is a Pavlovian trigger, the boys step out of their pants and boxers.

Rock hard. Desperate. Leaking.

Your personal drones.

Suguru can’t swallow the whimper that collides with Satoru’s whine when your hands drop to stroke both of them at the same time. Flickering your eyes between your two toys. Proud of the way their cocks are twitching and pumping beads of precum into your hands.

“God, pretty girl.”

“Fuck, princess.”

Satoru and Suguru are dizzy with heat.

Just in time for you to drop to your knees. Dragging your closed, lipsticked lips along Suguru’s up curve.

“Please,” Suguru whispers.

You’re evil.

And you ignore him. Dragging your soft, warm hand up the length of his shaft. Interjecting butterfly kisses in between. Working Satoru’s length in your other hand. Drawing punched out moans from the boys. Chests heaving. Clipped breaths. Pitiful.

“On your knees, Lightning.” You beckon Satoru, while teasing his counterpart.

Satoru doesn’t hesitate for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Propped on his knees, he stares into the side of your face. Awaiting further instruction.

“Kiss me,” you demand, circling your lips around Suguru’s sensitive tip for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss.

Satoru’s eyes widen. Your words startle the breath out of him.

The lights are dim but Suguru doesn’t miss the blossoming cherry red flush. Spreading along his toned shoulders.

Your wet lips dragging along his swollen cockhead pulls Suguru’s eyes away from his celestial best friend.

“Mmmgh f..fuck baby,” Suguru chokes out at your slow, mean ministrations.

“Don’t be shy, Lightening.” Your tongue tickles his lead pipe with every spoken word around his girth.

Suguru’s eyes fall to your hand. Now working its way up Satoru’s length. His core involuntarily curls into your sudden touch. Gossamer thin whine tumbling out of his lips. Suguru catches the way Satoru digs his fingernails into his milky skin.

And his cock twitches against your lips at the sight.

“Kiss me,” You beckon Satoru again, dragging your tongue up Suguru’s length.

“I—I…“ Satoru stammers. Hips stuttering against your fist. Static fills Suguru’s head.

He’s never seen him this docile. This pliant. It’s a mind fuck.

No, no.

The way Satoru pulls his eyes up to meet his gaze in that moment is a mind fuck.

Is he hallucinating?

It’s like Suguru is seeing Satoru for the first time.

Instead of being side by side, he’s across the street. Catching a glimpse of a God. Walking amongst men.

Satoru’s expression has earned permanence in his brain. Snowy halo of hair. Long, palatial lashes fanning the Aegean Sea in his eyes. A mosaic of lust, desire, a little shame.

Seeking permission.

Seeking approval.

He is otherworldly.

Vulnerable and soft. On his knees. Needy. It makes Suguru want to ram his cock past those pouty, swollen lips.

But..but that’s wrong. Right?

They’re best friends. Fucking soulmates. They don’t..they don’t do that.

But the way he’s pouting.

God.

Glassy eyed and helplessly turned on. Rutting his hips into your hand.

Fuck.

“Fuck,” Suguru mutters. A surge of his arousal landing on your tongue. Eliciting a breathy giggle in response.

Followed by an out of body experience for the next few minutes.

Suguru’s hand wires into Satoru’s cloud soft locks. Gentle grasp between the slender webspaces.

“So pretty.” He rasps through the nails in his throat.

Satoru’s pupils blow out at the praise. All but purring into his touch. Suguru barely applies any force and Satoru crashes his lips onto yours with Suguru’s thick head in between.

Filthy.

Nasty dirty vulgar sounds fill the room. Suguru’s constant stream of precum dripping onto your tongue, Satoru’s tongue. Raining down on your puffy, full tits.

You two exploring each other’s lips.

Satoru’s angry length, squelching against your hand.

It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.

“Such a good boy.”

Your dulcet voice is a tornado decimating Suguru’s brain. He has to blink a few times to realize that the praise wasn’t meant for him.

It was directed at Satoru.

Who is desperately — eagerly — throating Suguru’s dick. Nose flaring. Diamond tears rolling down his blushing cheeks. Unintelligible garbles dribbling out the corners of his mouth.

“Sa—Satoru, mmgh, god shit, shit.” Suguru’s hips take a cruel pace down his Person’s throat.

“Mmm, Satoru.” You murmur into his ear. Tasting your new discovery.

“Look how much Thunder likes fucking that mouth of yours.”

Satoru’s tears splash against Suguru’s sex. But he opens his throat anyway. Swallowing his rod. Filthy bulge in the column of his throat.

“Ahh, god..baby..” Suguru huffs when your devilish little hands tug at a palm full of his hair.

When did you get next to him?

Doesn’t matter.

Yet another natural disaster destroys Suguru’s brain when you push your tongue back into his mouth. While he violates Satoru’s mouth.

The wire in Suguru’s stomach coils. Lava surges through every vessel in his body. Groin welling with a deep, carnal pressure. Everything feels too fucking good.

“Fuck, oh god fuck. I’m I—g—“

“Cum for me, baby.”

You kiss your hushed command into Suguru’s mouth. His hips come to a screeching halt. Both hands down in Satoru’s hair, grazing along his undercut.

Suguru tilts his chin to the ceiling. Thick loose mane tickling his mid back. Vision completely dark. He has no idea if he’s still in Satoru’s mouth. Or where his cum is landing. All he knows is death by pleasure right now.

You press your moist lips into Suguru’s neck.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Sweet words reverberate against Suguru’s skin.

His head slowly comes back to earth. And just as his eyes pull back open — a shudder and blinding light assaults his vision. Up close.

“Woah, what the hell?”

Suguru is met with a Polaroid camera. Printing evidence of his nirvana. His brows crawl together defensively.

“What do you—“

“Relax, thunder.” You coo with that smile that’s decadent, beautiful poison.

You step over a dazed Satoru. Still on his knees. Lazily stroking up his neglected hard cock.

Suguru’s eyes track you to his bed. You place the developing film on the nightstand.

“These are for your eyes only.”

“I don’t mind.” Satoru huffs. Rising to his feet. Deep within your trance. You could’ve asked him to cut off an arm and he’d offer you both.

Satoru would follow you into Hell if you demanded it.

Suguru would too.

“Boys, come.” You curl your finger at them. And pairs of feet move.

“Thunder, why don’t you put that tongue ring to good use. While I take care of pretty little Satoru.”

His name on your lips snaps something buried in his soul. Satoru steps to the head of the bed. Leaning against the wall. Cock heavy with his seed. A string of arousal hanging low from his tip.

You make a dramatic show to catch Satoru’s leaking string of cum before it wastes on Suguru’s sheets.

“You’re fucking filthy, princess.” Satoru hisses. He can’t remember the last time he’s blinked the whole night.

You smile around his bulbous tip, then pull him into your warm heat in one go.

And fuck, Satoru can feel you sucking through to his throat.

His whimpers sound so pathetic in his ears. But he is so lust-drunk he couldn’t care less.

One look down and he sees his best friend whining underneath your precious cunt. As you circle your hips around Suguru’s metal-clad tongue. Taking your pleasure directly from his mouth.

Suguru’s half hard sex pulsates against his perfectly toned abs. Satoru has to look away. His orgasm threatening to come too soon.

“Mmmnggh, so good with your tongue, Thunder.” You gurgle around Satoru’s length.

Arousal flavored saliva driveling down your chin. The sensation drives Satoru to piston his hips until his tip abuses the limit of your dainty throat.

You shouldn’t have any space to breathe, much less talk.

“Pl-please. Suguru. Name’s Suguru.”

“Say his name baby.” Satoru’s order is low. Raptorial. Hips bucking wildly into your mouth. Heat crashing into his groin.

He’s so close. He’s—

“S-Suguru.”

And Satoru dives off your cliff edge. Hearing his Person’s name tumble out of your mouth and around his cock snapped his self-control in half.

Ropes off thick, warm heat spill out the side of your mouth. Staining your bunched up dress, the sheets and everything in between.

“S-so close,” you huff, humping Suguru’s tongue more aggressively.

A familiar camera shudder and solar bright light fans your outstretched neck. Capturing your cum-stained ascension.

You flash Satoru a knowing smirk. Another beam of light aimed in his face before he tosses your camera off to the side.

Satoru crashes his lips into yours. Eager to taste himself off your mouth.

Your bodies move in perfect tandem. Satoru kisses your peak from your lips while Suguru coaxes your wet orgasm onto his tongue. Your high drenches Suguru and the sheets around him.

The three of you piece yourselves together. Completely plaited within each other’s warm, moist limbs. Basking in the serotonin showers misting you three in post-coital bliss.

No one remembers, but you wish each other sweet dreams before the fog settles. And the night re-claims you to sleep.

——

Sunlight is downright offensive.

Suguru forces his heavy lids open.

7: 43 AM

Fucking, hell.

A freight train is currently doing laps in Suguru’s mind. He flickers around the room. Haphazard clothes. Strewn socks. Satoru in Suguru’s 06 hockey jersey. Long limbs nearly dangling off the other side of his bed.

Suguru glances down, somehow dressed only in Satoru’s black sweats

There’s a tiny sliver of space between their sodden bodies. Where you must’ve slept.

Right.

You.

Heaven’s fallen angel.

You used to be God’s favorite. No way you still are.

Not with how fucking sinful you looked in that red dress.

Snapping polaroids.

Taking their souls for play.

Then having the audacity to leave them on the nightstand when you were through.

Suguru met The Devil last night.

And she was…exquisite.

“Fuck, my head.” Satoru groans, rolling over to face his dark-haired soulmate.

Suguru watches his eyes flutter open. And something within him catches.

How has he not noticed how beautiful this boy is before?

“Here,” A glass of ice water, still sweating from condensation is waiting on Suguru’s nightstand. He takes a long sip before passing the lifeblood to Satoru.

Satoru briefly meets Suguru’s gaze. Before averting, pretty mulberry blush flooding his face.

“Was last night…real?” Satoru asks after an extended sip.

Suguru meets his question with silence. Preoccupied with picture proof.

Three polaroids neatly arranged on the nightstand.

The first one is of Suguru. Hair moused, framing his intoxicated gaze. Remnants of his orgasm oozing from the still shot. Lips puffy and abused. Cheeks flushed. Suguru can barely recognize the man in the photo.

His eyes dance to the cursive label at the bottom:

Thunder

Alias: “Suguru”

A wry chuckle escapes his lips. He passes his photo to Satoru.

The next polaroid is of his Person. Post orgasm haze heavy in his eyes. He managed to get his 10,000-kilowatt smile perfectly in the selfie. Also flushed. Also completely debauched. The blue in his eyes reflected nearly translucent.

He’s a fucking masterpiece, that boy.

Suguru knows what to expect at the bottom of Satoru’s polaroid:

Lightening

Alias: “Satoru”

“Shit man, these are amazing.” Satoru murmurs, intently studying Suguru’s polaroid. Absentmindedly accepting his.

“They are.” Suguru agrees, unknowingly holding his breath while pulling your polaroid into view.

And of course.

It’s blurry.

The only thing in focus is your graceful, arched neck, specks of Satoru’s finish glistening on your skin. Merlot red dress, pulled far below your breasts. Only thing pictured is the apex of your cleavage. Leaving Suguru’s mind to spiral into lucid memory of the rest of your silhouette.

“Who…was that?” Satoru muses. Eyes now on the ceiling. Undoubtedly having the exact same swarm of flashbacks flood his mind.

Suguru rolls your Polaroid between his index and long finger. The bottom of the photo reading:

No Name

A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.

You are something else.

Supernatural, almost.

“She’s a girl with no name.”

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pokegalla · 5 months

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Requested/trade by @veiled-rebel

First ever Hazbin hotel headcanons lets gooooo✨

How Touchy Can They Be In Public With Slightly Large Chested S/o!

Angel Dust:

* ……..ok yes he’s a pornstar so obviously he could care less. All of hell watches his videos. Him doing something promiscuous as grabbing some booba ain’t really a surprise-

* Doesn’t mean he’s going do it without making sure you’re actually comfortable with it though! If not, he’ll never do it again (he’ll make excuses but we all know he’s a softie-). But if you are comfortable? Good luck. He’ll hug you from behind a lot and give a biiiiig squeeze- hell he’ll let you lay your head in his own fluffy booba! It’s only fair✨ (your nickname is definitely now sugar tits and you cannot go against that)

* In private he’s actually a LOT cuter. He loves nuzzling in your chest and giving it so many smooches. He just finds you so cute and he doesn’t hold back on his flirts. But surprisingly they are much more sweeter! “Awww la Mia dolce metà is blushing agaaain~ Am I making yah that excited~?” He laughs when you blush more.

* Ooooooo but now you wanna be wearing a boob window?! Oh you HAVE to be teasing him baby~✨ and he is not above taking you to the nearest hotel for a little….detour~

* Hey you dated a pornstar pal. You kinda should have expected this! But hey….you’re also the only one who gets to see his soft side too.

Mini story time!!!

Man you were fucking bored. Which is ironic considering how hectic hell can be. But what could you do right? You sinned and now you’re in this shithole, rotting away year by year…..oh? You felt someone hug you from behind. And that familiar squeeze that made you blush-

“ANGEL-“ the yelp made your lover laugh.

“Got yah sugartits! Next time get yah head out of yah ass! Unless it’s on mine sweetheart~” he winked at you and laughed when you got flustered.

But….you take one of his hands and it made him smile. Genuinely smile. Well….Hell may be a shithole.

But at least you’re not alone in it❤️

Husk:

* Eh honestly he’s more of a gentleman here. So not as touchy. Little to none actually.

* But he does get a little more protective. I mean it is hell, perverts and assholes come in by a dozen. He’ll snarl at anyone getting a little too close or have a spare jacket just to drape over your shoulders. Quite a sweet gesture coming from the grump himself✨

* In private he surprisingly is still hesitant to even look there as he thinks it’s rude. You have a face don’tcha? He prefers looking there. But if you tell him it’s perfectly fine and lay him on your chest? He will stay right there because he is a blushing mess. Might earn a few purrs if you give him head scritchies✨

* Now despite being a gentleman, he knows when you wanna dress up for him. So wearing a boob window will have him peeking more….and he might actually mention it! “Looking good. Dressed up for a special occasion?” But he’d have a little mischievous smirk. Oh trust me. You are definitely having a special occasion tonight now~

* He may be a grumpy cat, he’s still a softie at heart. And only you know best.

Mini story time!!!

Yeah maybe wearing this top to the club was a terrible idea. So many creeps and assorted assholes were everywhere and they couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t you just walk around without someone staring at you like a piece of meat….? But that’s when you felt someone wrap a jacket around your shoulders before leading you out of the club.

“Husk….? What are you…?” You were shocked to say the least.

“I told yah NOT tah go to this club. Lotta bad eggs in there….” He grumbles as he kept you close to himself.

You were surprised he came at all….you sigh and lean against his shoulder, making him stiffen but sigh, rubbing your back comfortingly.

At least you have him around ❤️

#my writing #funny #cute #fluffy headcanons #hazbin hotel #angel dust x reader #husk x reader #x reader headcanons #reader is gender neutral

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skbeaumont · 2 months

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"You Should Probably Leave" | Joel x Reader oneshot

Part 1 of Play it Again, a new series where each story is a oneshot, but all are shaped around country songs.

Song: You Should Probably Leave – Chris Stapleton Summary: He works long days. You help out with Sarah, make her dinner, put her to bed when he has to stay late. And then when he gets home you help him out, too, even though you both know you should probably leave. Tags/Warnings: MDNI, 18+, smut, porn without plot, prose but kind of poetry/lyrical, sexual tension, PIV, oral (m! receiving), sub!Joel, you're Sarah's babysitter, AU! No outbreak, set in the 90s. Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I've taken the lyrics and worked them into the story, so I'd really recommend listening as you read. I've been thinking about writing this series for sooo long because country songs + Joel is a match made in heaven. If you've got any song recommendations, let me know!

It’s like a dance, a well-worn routine that you both know, practised and perfected after months of repetitions. You both know where it leads but you’ll still follow all the steps. That’s how it is.

You put Sarah to bed ages ago, spent the last few hours of babysitting on the sofa finishing up some college work, waiting for Joel to get back. His key in the door is a familiar click, the latch sticking the way it always does, his shoulder forcing it open.

You stay where you are. When he comes into the lounge his toolbelt is still strapped around his waist, the remnants of a long day’s work painted across his handsome face and strewn in dust that’s collected on the knees of his well-worn jeans and callused hands.

He pauses in the entrance, arm stretched up above him to rest on the mantle of the door, t-shirt pulling up to reveal a strip of tanned skin above his belt. There’s a glass of wine half-drunk on the coffee table beside you and your feet are tucked up under you.

Neither of you speak for several long moments. You just watch each other, the tension too delicious to break.

“You should probably leave,” He says, but you make no effort to move and he stays where he is, too, dark eyes watching you.

His expression is open, taunting, and you already know what’s going to happen. You untuck your feet and shift them onto the worn carpet, standing to step towards him. His form takes up most of the doorway, his shoulders so broad that they almost touch both sides of the frame.

When you reach it he’s looming over you, blocking the exit off from you if you wanted to leave, but you don’t. You turn into him, press your nose to the slice of skin between his shoulder and neck and inhale deeply, smell the work of his day on him: the musk of sweat, the tang of iron and sharpness of wood shavings.

“I suppose it ain’t all that late,” he says, voice rumbling through his chest, “still time for you to finish your wine.”

You won’t finish the wine, but it’s all part of the well-worn routine the two of you have. He works long days. You help out with Sarah, make her dinner, put her to bed when he has to stay late.

And then when he gets home you help him out, too. Let him relieve some of the tension that he carries in his shoulders, on his thick-set jaw. You press the first kiss here, letting the rough caress of his stubble eat into your own cheek. When you let your hands course through his hair, scratching your nails into his scalp, he leans into it, eyebrows pitching up, something like a whimper falling from his lips.

There’s a devil on your shoulders, and its urging you each towards the same predetermined end.

“We shouldn’t.” He says, but he doesn’t move away.

“Just one kiss?” You ask, feeling him relax into your touch, the bulk of him slipping down the doorframe, bringing his mouth within reach of yours.

“Alright,” He rasps back, his voice pitching with need, and you claim the last syllable with your mouth, press your lips against his, pull a moan from somewhere deep in his chest.

“Say you want me to stay,” You tell him, and he does, whispers it into your mouth, chases your tongue with his.

When he looks at you his gaze so intense it’s almost intimidating, and you recognise the look in his eyes, the need that’s behind the blown-out pupils and hazy expression.

The slow retreat to his bedroom is well-practised, the carpet belying a well-trodden route you both know. He lets you walk him backwards up the stairs, sighs when you push him against the closed door to fit your mouths together again.

Inside, his bed is unmade and you press him into it, pin his hands above his head and lick a thick strip up his neck, following the tendons to the underside of his jaw.

His moans are the chorus of this well-rehearsed dance. They spur you on as you undress him, revealing the strong lines of his chest, the thick trunks of his thighs, the impressive bulge of his cock in his briefs, already half-hard.

He twitches in your hand when you draw him out and you shift down the bed to take him into your mouth, the head of him heavy and salty on your tongue. His cock swells, the vein that spans the underside pulsing against your palm.

It’s intoxicating and dizzying and familiar, the recognisable ache in your jaw as you take him into the back of your throat, fist gripping the part of him that won’t fit.

“So good to me, darlin’” He groans, running shaking fingers through your hair, trying to sit up against the headboard.

“Relax,” you tell him, pushing him back down to lie against the rumpled duvet, “I know what you need.”

You know him and he knows you, and you both know how this goes. You pull back, work your dress up over your head and pull down your panties, which are ruined with your slick, so damp they catch on your thighs as you peel them off. Joel’s eyes widen as he watches; he can never believe you want this – want him – as much as you do.

When you sink down on his length – the fat head of his cock catching at your entrance, making the stretch delicious and white-hot – he squeezes his eyes shut tight.

You run a finger along his eyebrows, coax him to open them and he does, a muscle in his jaw fluttering as you rise up and drag your cunt back down onto him again.

“I wanna do the right thing, baby,” he tells you, as though this – the pinching heat of him between your thighs, the tremble of his hands as he clutches at the flesh of your ass – isn’t the greatest thing that’s ever happened to either of you.

But you know he hates himself for it, hates that he’s a good decade older than you, that you’re Sarah’s babysitter, that this – this twisted arrangement you have where you stay when he gets back and then end up in his bed – is the only thing that gets him through those long works days sometimes.

“I know,” you say, “but it’s getting kind of hard to resist, isn’t it?”

“You should leave,” he says, thrusting up into you, “we should – Jesus, baby, just like that – we should stop.”

You arch up off the bed, tilting your hips so that he can drive his cock deeper, bottoming out and groaning brokenly into your ear. It’s filthy. Depraved, probably: The slap of his hips as he cants them up into yours, the breathy moans that tumble from your mouth, Joel’s desperate, needy curses.

It’s easy to make him come like this: Three steady, deliberate rolls of your hips and he’s a quivering mess beneath you, his hands fisting in the sheets as he spurts hot and wet inside you.

After, you tell him you should probably leave. He makes you come with his fingers first, tells you to finish your wine, that it still ain’t that late.

And when the sun’s on your skin at 6am, he’s there watching you sleep, hoping you’ll say you’ll stay, even though you should probably leave.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel x you #the last of us fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #au! no outbreak #SoundCloud

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hxzbinwrites · 5 months

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Hiiii! Could I request a oneshot where Husk reunites with a gn! S/o he had back when he was alive? The reader decides to stay at the Hazbin Hotel as a way of staying protected from the rest of the sinners and overlords in hell. After Charlie introduces them to everyone, they stop at the bar for a shot and they recognize eachothers voices.

(It can be fluff or angst)

Tysm!^^✨️

Husk x Gn! Reader | Quitting |

Warnings ⚠️: Drinking, Alcohol Abuse, Cussing

(Y/n) is a mess. Just a plain mess. That’s what everyone though at least. Just a drunk weaving in and out of the next bar, blurring the lines between today and tomorrow, reality and fiction.

Groggily they drag their feet along the pavement, tired eyes desperately searching for a cheap enough bar that will still take them in. So far, no luck has been found. Most of the bars are either too expensive for someone who already blew everything they had on alcohol, or already know who they are and refuse to let them into their establishment.

And don’t even think about a place to stay. (Y/n) hasn’t been able to afford rent in years, not even a cheap motel to stay at. It’d be a blessing if somewhere that was a free stay just popped out right infront of them and just offered a place-

“HELLO!!”

“AH! WHAT THE HELL?” (Y/n) said, scowling at the cheerful face infront of them. It was Lucifer’s daughter, Charlie Morningstar. “Listen kid, don’t you know not to sneak up on folks!”

“Ah! I am so sorry!!” Charlie said, tucking her papers with drawings of rainbows made with crayon under her arm as she grabbed (Y/n)‘s hands.

“I’m here to make you an offer!” She said, smiling once more. Her cheerful demeanor was very different from (Y/n)’s deadpan expression.

“Listen kid, I don’t got much money. I find some here and there and then I blow it on booze, if you need investments, why don’t ya go to an Overlord or something, I ain’t got time for all of this.”

“Oh I don’t need any money!” Charlie said,”I need you! I’m working on a project to help rehabilitate sinners!! Help them go to Heaven!! And I’d like you to participate!”

“Why would I do that?” (Y/n) said, raising an eyebrow. “Shouldn’t you start off on an easier case or something, I just don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“You can stay there for free!-”

“Alright lets go.” (Y/n) said, taking their hands out of Charlie’s grasp before she started to crush them in a hug.

“YAY!!! ANOTHER GUEST AT THE HOTEL!!!” She squealed, making the drunk’s head throb at the loud noise.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough Princess. Lets go to this ‘hotel’ of yours.”

——————

Charlie kicked open the doors to the Hazbin Hotel, skipping in alongside (practically dragging along) the newest guest, (Y/n).

“EVERYONE!!!!” Charlie shouted,”EMERGENCY MEETING!! WE HAVE A NEW GUEST!!”

(Y/n) covered their ears, their eyes squinting in annoyance at the Princess’s very loud entrance.

Mostly everyone slowly made their way to the lobby, Vaggie being the first to enter.

“Hey. I’m Vaggie. I’m Charlie’s girlfriend. If anyone here gives you trouble, let me know, I’ll handle them.”. For someone so laid back and monotone, you really wouldn’t expect her partner to be the hyper princess who was literally jumping up and down.

(Y/n) and Vaggie conversed for a bit before Sir Pentious, Angel Dust, Alastor, and Nifty entered as well.

They all talked and got to know each other before in the corner of their eye, (Y/n) caught sight of a bar. A BAR!! They quickly excused themselves and hopped behind the counter, quickly mixing a drink.

“Excuse me, who are you and what are you doing behind my counter?” A deep voice said, instantly making (Y/n) freeze in their tracks.

“Husk?” They asked, turning around expecting a familiar face only to be met with a casio themed cat.

“(Y/n)? Is that really you?”

“Husk!!” They said, reaching over the counter to give him a hug, much like the one they were internally complaining about with Charlie earlier.

“It’s good to see you old friend. How’s Hell been treatin’ ya?”

“Shitty” They replied,”since I died, I’ve been a drunk and living off the streets for a few years. Well decades now. Oh well, I’m here now!”

Husk narrowed his eyes at her,”so you’re telling me that my old drinking buddy has been living off of these dangerous streets! Hell (Y/n), I’m glad that Charlie found you. Now, move away from the counter, let me make you a drink to commemorate you quitting drinking.”

“No fair!” (Y/n) said, plopping down on the bar stool,”quitting? We all know that’s impossible. I was a drunk when I was alive, I’m a drunk now that I’m dead-“

“And you’ll become sober when you go to Heaven. I….I really care for you (Y/n), you shouldn’t stay in this shithole. Go up to those pearly gates. For me please?” He said, sliding them their favorite drink.

“Sure Husk, I’ll do it for you. But if I do it, you gotta promise to come with me right after okay? No more gambling.”

Husk sighed, closing his tired eyes,”Fine. I’ll do it for you. You better be glad though (Y/n), I wouldn’t do this for nobody except you.”

They smiled, looking into Husk’s eyes as he smiled back. They both knew that they were gonna keep their promises.

—————

Word Count: 823

(sorry it’s so short 😭)

#hazbin hotel husk #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin husk #huskerdust #hazbin husker #husker x reader #husk x reader #husk #husker #hotel hazbin #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hôtel #demon! reader #demon reader

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samandcolbyownme · 21 days

Text

Summary: After years of being split apart from your group, due to being taken and relocated by the Saviors, you run in to not only one familiar face, but specifically, the one you were searching for this whole time.

Warnings: strong language, apocalypse setting, swearing, mentions of knives, guns, bows, other weapons, mentions of killing (both humans and zombies), some descriptive text, reader gets taken by the saviors, mentions of scars, fighting, AGE GAP - friends to lovers, reader likes Daryl, Daryl hides the fact that he likes reader, some flirting, nothing too spicy lol

Word count: 4.9k | not edited also my first Daryl fic so be nice :)

A/N - I’m writing this for me, yes, but I’m also this for the ones who have a problem, I mean… are attracted to men old enough to be their father, so please do NOT read if age gap relationships make you uncomfortable! This also is more or less my version of the walking dead, the group meets Negan, but not like in the show.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

ＦＩＶＥ • ＹＥＡＲＳ • ＡＧＯ

There was no denying that you were Daryl’s favorite person to go on runs with, anyone that just showed up could tell you that.

You were fast. Efficient. Very get in and get out type of girl. You didn’t fuck around, and Daryl loved that - but he’d never tell you that himself.

He also swore to never tell you that he wanted you around him because you made him happy in ways that he didn’t really like to talk about.

You were like a breath of fresh air to him, you picked up what he liked and what he didn’t like almost right away, you were one of the very few people that he didn’t get tired of being around all the time, hence why you join him every time he goes on a run.

He wasn’t much of a talker, the very first two runs together, you got a few mumbles out of him, mainly telling you where to go and when to look out.

But, that was until your third run of many run with Daryl. It would be silent, and he would almost scare you with just talking outright.

It wasn’t more than a, ‘how’s your day?’

Or maybe a, ‘ya sleep last night? Y’look tired’

You would always give him a quick, straight to the point response, ‘tossed and turned all night, might need a new blanket or somethin’

Or you would tease him slightly with something along the lines of, ‘Days better now that I’m out runnin’ around with my bestie.’

He says he hated when you called him that, but he would always chuckle and try to hide his smile by pointing out something ahead.

You would go with it, rolling your eyes subtly before you squint, “Daryl, I think you’re seeing things.” You look over at him, “or you’re just scared to talk to me.”

He’d scoff, “Ain’t scared of nothin’, darlin’.”

All you could do was smile and look away, mainly to hide the red on your cheeks from being spotted.

It really wasn’t that Daryl was scared, it was just, as slightly embarrassing as he thinks, he didn’t know how to talk to you.

He would always try to remind himself that you aren’t this delicate little flower, you can handle yourself. If you couldn’t, he would have never stumbled upon you.

You both would keep moving, not really stopping unless a walker or something came out of the tree line. The more runs you added to the list, the more you realized that you were patient enough to wait on him.

You really did have all the time in the world.

Were you also young and twenty one years old? Sure. But in this world, you’d always like to think, What’s it matter, really?

You had to roll with what you found, and you got lucky that day Daryl found you under a fallen tree - long story short, he helped you out and as soon as he knew your name, he couldn’t help but want to bring you home with him.

And that’s what he did.

Daryl has also spoken, well, more or less make comments to Rick about the girl from the woods. He’d beat around the bush as his eyes followed you across the way, watching as Carol showed you around, “y’know that girl I brought in?”

Rock would nod, “Y/n?”

A smirk would play sure Daryl’s lips as he replays you taking out two walkers at the same time, “Little young, though. Ain’t she?”

Rick shook his head, giving Daryl’s shoulder a squeeze as he stood up, “You deserve what ever makes you happy, Daryl. We make our own rules now.”

——

“There was a convenient store on the corner of one of these roads.” You look at Daryl then glancing behind you, “I figured.. if we don’t find it today.” You glance back and then forward, “We can try and hit it another day.”

“Would ya stop fuckin’ doin’ that?” He looks behind you and then at you, “really freakin’ me out today, y/n. What’s goin’ on with ya?”

“Sorry.” You sigh, shaking your head, “I just have this really weird feeling like we should have just stayed back today.”

“You wanna go back?” Daryl stops as you take a few steps ahead before turning around. He nods back, “We’re not that far away, if y’feel safer goin’ back-“

“I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“I’m not goin’ back.” Daryl was stubborn, but so were you, “Then so am I.”

He scoffs quietly, shaking his head as he nudges you with his elbow, indicating you to walk with him. You turn, staying a little bit closer to Daryl as you make your way down the road.

About an hour away, you stand up from the last of the boxes in a semi fallen down shed, “Nothing.” You turn to Daryl and he shakes his head, “Got the same over here.”

“No where?” You look around the room and he shrugs, “should prolly just head back, it’s gonna get dark here soon.”

The weird feeling you had from earlier returns and you sigh, “Not to be annoying, but I can’t shake this feeling.”

Daryl clenches his jaw, “Alright, it’s alright.” He picks up his crossbow, “C’mon now.”

It’s the way Daryl makes your heart warm with the simple, nonchalant ways he makes sure you’re okay, trying to make sure you’re calm without actually letting you know that that is what he’s doing, but you know.

You’ve come to know Daryl better than anyone in the few short months you’ve been at Alexandria.

“Did somethin’ happen or, what?” Daryl asks as he glances over at you, trying to keep up with your slightly faster pace.

You shrug, “I just feel like something is going to happen, Daryl.” You look over at him, “Something bad.”

——

Your feeling was proven to be worth something because the moment you entered through the gates, you were gunned down, Daryl, too.

“Gimme your guns.” A tall man says in a sing-songy tone as he bends down, looking you right in your face, “And your cross bow.” He looks over to Daryl and Daryl wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.

The man stands up, walking over to lean down in Daryl’s face, “Now.”

“Y/n. Do it.” Rick says catching your attention. Only your eyes move towards Rick, hands up as a gun is pointed right next to his temple, “Daryl. You, too.”

“I’d listen to your boss man, alright. I don’t feel like killing anyone today, which is..” the man tilts his head, scratching at his temple, “Odd, but anyone. Consider this your one time act of kindness because I can promise you, from here on out, ain’t gonna be purdy.”

You tilt your head, taking your gun from your shoulder and laying it down. You take your pistol and set it down next to the rifle, “That’s all I have.”

“Mm.” The man tilts his head, “I don’t believe you.” He grips your bicep hard, causing you to yelp as he yanks you forward and onto your feet.

“Let her fuckin’ go!” Daryl yells, and you know he’s already trying to get up, but the moment you get to look back, there’s a gun in his face, blocking his view of you.

You’re thrown up against the side of the old and dusty moving truck, groaning as your head ricochetes off the side with a thump, “Fuck, ow!”

You bring your hand up, pulling it away to see red when you feel a wetness on your skin.

“You mother fu-“ Daryl starts to yell, but the man puts a gun to your temple, “I’m just trying to do my job, now shut the fuck up or I’ll really give you something to fucking yell about.”

You keep your eyes on Daryl, watching as his eyes quickly move between you and the man holding you hostage.

“I’ll keep it professional.” He taps your shoulder, “Arat. Come check her for weapons.”

You were scared shitless.

You didn’t want to die, or anyone else to die.

Who are these people, you thought as the woman behind you slid her hands roughly over your body, “Simon. This is her.”

You head shot up as Simon, supposedly, laughs, “No fucking way.” He steps back, “Negan is going to love this.”

“Who’s Negan?” Rick asks and Simon turns around slowly to look at Rick, arms spreading out to his sides slowly, “We’re all Negan.”

Simon points to you with his thumb, “Load her up.”

The uproar that happens within your people is instant and there’s a shot fired into the air, making you flinch.

“That’s e-fuckin’-nuff.” Simon yells, “The girl is coming with us, and there’s-“ he raises his voice, “Nothing you can do about it.”

He walks you back to the truck, motioning with his gun for you to get in.

You take one last look at Daryl before you start to get in, heading Simon chuckle as he sighs, “Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t. We’ll be back with more orders. Until then, stay the fuck here or more we will kill your beloved.. whatever she is to you.”

Simon looks at Daryl, “You got that Robin Hood?”

Daryl holds his heated stare onto him and that’s the last thing you see before the door shuts.

——

“Well, well, fuckin’ well. What do we have here?” A deep voice boasts from behind you. You wiggle your wrists and close your eyes, feeling a presence move around you to your front.

You open your eyes and you’re met with a rugged dude in a leather jacket, a baseball bat that’s wrapped in barbed wire tightly secured in his fist, “You must be the girl who knows her way around those dead fucks out there.”

“What are you talking about?” You look up, eyes meeting the tall, older man and he just chuckles, “A few of my men saw you take on a group, I dunno, five or six deep..” he points to you with each word, “..All. on. your. own.”

You shrug, “I’ve been out there a while.”

“And how longs a while, sweetheart?” The man asks, squatting down in front of you.

“Two years with a group, three on my own.” You say quietly, your brain reminding you about the night had no other choice but to go off on your own.

“Holy shit.” The man shakes his head, “You hearin’ this shit, Simon?”

“Arat said it was her. I can get Gavin to confirm, too.” Simon answers and the man nods, standing up to pull a chair over in front of you, “If I untie you, you promise you’ll play nice?”

You were disgusted. You wanted to go home.

You wanted Daryl. You wanted Daryl more than anything.

You nod, hands gripping the arm rests as his knife slides between your skin and the rope, flicking the blade upward to get it to cut open.

He repeats it to the other side and leans back, “You seem like you have a pretty name.” He tilts his head, fingers rubbing over the stubble on his chin, “Do you have a pretty name, sweetheart?”

“Y/n.”

“Y/n.” The man repeats in a whisper, “Damn. That is pretty.” He shakes his head, smirking as his eyes take in your, very nervous figure sitting in the chair, “Look.”

The man leans forward, “I’ll tell you this, alright.” You keep your eyes off of him, which seemed to upset him. His voice grew louder and his hand reached up to tightly grip your chin, “Look. At. Me. When I am talking to you.”

You force your eyes to his and he picks up speaking where he stopped, “You’re a little spit fire out there, okay. Which mean, you’re a delicacy to your little asshole groupies back at that shithole, what was it called? Alex- some for bullshit?”

“Alexandria.” You mumble out, keeping your eyes on his. He tilts his head back, his hand still gripping your chin, “Oh, oh. Right. Yes. Alexandria.”

The door behind you opens and the man drops his hand, “Gavin, my man. I need you to tell me if this is the girl you say in the woods a few weeks ago.”

The man stands up, spinning the chair around for, presumed, Gavin to see you. His eyes move over your body, “Does she have a tattoo or some sort of mark on the back of her left arm?”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“When she lifted her arm, it-“

“Lift your arm for me, sweetheart.” The man spins you towards him and you have no other choice but to oblige, you strongly feel that the other choice is death, which you can not allow to happen now.

You pull your shirt sleeve up and the man scoffs, “Bing-fucking-o.” The man shakes his head, “Get a team together, we’re going to meet the people of Alexandria earlier than expected.”

He looks to you, “Take her up to a room. A good room. She hasn’t done anything to not deserve it yet.” He winks at you and you look down as you feel a hand grab your bicep to lift you to your feet.

“Do you have any questions for me?”

You stop, turning to look at the man with the baseball bat resting on his shoulder, “Who are you?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He walks over, tilting his head as he looks down at you, “I’m Negan.”

——

Your first day here was scary. You cried yourself to sleep, worried both about Daryl and the rest of Alexandria.

By the next morning, You were itching to get out, constantly looking for a way to escape, but they had so many people, no matter where you looked, you had eyes on you at all times.

To your surprise, the last week you spent with what you heard them call themselves, The Saviors, wasn’t in a stone cell like you pictured them doing the second you left that room on the first day.

You really didn’t know why.

You kill zombies, big deal. Doesn’t everyone else on this fucked up planet?

“Come with me, honey pie.” Simon says as he pulls you along with him, “Your time to shine.”

You’re taken outside, squinting at the brightness of the sun shining down from above. You couldn’t help but take a deep breathe, it’s the first time you’ve been outside in days.

“Get in and scoot over.” Simon commands and you climb up into the truck, your eyes meeting Negan’s as he steps up to sit into the passengers seat.

You don’t say a word to him. You just face forward as Simon smooshes you between him and Negan as he closes the door.

“So you and Robin Hood, huh?” Simon asks, referring to Daryl. You shake your head in response.

“Listen, sweetie. One thing we do around here, is answer people questions, with the words we learned how to speak. Got it?”

“Yes sir.” You say, clearing your throat, “No, me and.. Robin Hood are not a thing.”

“Seems to care about you like he does. You catch onto that Negan? The way he wanted to rip your throat out yesterday?” Simon chuckles, “Aw the look in his, man. I tell you what though, if looks could kill, you would have been dead.”

“Gonna have to take more than a nasty look to kill me.” Negan chuckles deeply, “Oh looky here.” He points, looking over at you as he sings, “honey.. we’re home.”

Your heart was racing as you seen Rosita motion to open the gate.

You watch her face shift into a shocked look when she caught glimpse of you through the windshield.

As you drive in, coming to a stop, you already see Daryl, front and center with Rick.

“C’mon.” Simon motions to you and you slide over, allowing him to help you down before you follow him around the truck. He pulls you closer to him, the click sending a shiver down your spine.

“Alright. Here’s the deal. You all want your badass, Duffy the zombie slayer black, but I don’t know.” Negan glances back at you, “She could be useful to me.”

You see Rick tighten his grip on Daryl’s vest and you send him a loving look.

“That thought didn’t even cross my mind, but you know what, how about this, If you want y/n back, give us half of your food today, and I want, we’ll make it easy.. ten guns by next week.”

“T-ten guns?” Rick asks baffled, “by next week? Negan that’s.. don’t you think that’s a little impossible?”

“Fine, make it fifteen by Friday, or you can say goodbye to the only chance you all actually have at surviving.” Negan points to you, “As you can she, she’s alive and well, now.”

Negan motions to the truck, “Let’s go.”

You shake your head and Simon grabs your arm roughly and you pull back, letting your fear get the best of you, “No, please. Nono, please no! No!”

Your pleads only set everyone on your side off, yelling and trying to push past the wall of Saviors.

Knives are drawn and you’re held to Negan’s chest, “Listen here! I make the rules. I have something you want and now, you’re going to go off and fuckin’ get me what I want. I’m done negotiating.”

“Negan, please. Just let y/n stay an I pro-“

Negan cuts Rick off, “You promise what, Rick? Huh? You already doubted yourselves with getting ten-“ He gasps, “Sorry, I mean fifteen by next Friday.”

He laughs, shaking his head, sighing as he brings his bat, Lucille, next for your face, “what makes you think you can handle the load of getting this thing here back.”

Daryl’s eyes squint as Negan calls you, this thing.

You swallow, glancing around.

You can take on six walkers, but not this many saviors, the walkers didn’t have rifles pointed at the people you’ve come to love and care for.

“Why are-“ Negan scoffs, “Why are we even still discussing this? You know what. Fine.” He pushes you to the back of the truck and you stumble, silently begging for help.

“If you’re going to cause this big of a fuss instead of just doing as I say..” Negan looks at you, “Then no one can.”

He shrugs, pointing Lucille at the open back, “Get in, or I kill someone.”

——

ＰＲＥＳＥＮＴ • ＤＡＹ

You held your breath as you pushed your back up against the tree, waiting for the stray walker to move past you, knife at the ready just in case.

You slip around the tree, opposite way from the dead before you continue your journey through the woods.

It’s been, almost five years since you were left stranded in the middle of god knows where by Negan and his Saviors.

You weren’t even sure if they were still a thing or not, but jokes on them, you’re still alive.

And you’re full of fight.

You stopped at the river, bending down to feel the cool water on your fingertips. You’ve been walking all day, and you just needed to take a second.

You look up, taking in the scenery for a few moments before it all starts to becomes, familiar.

You stand up, looking around as your heart starts to pound. You shake your head, laughing slightly as you bend down to grab your bag.

If this is the river you were thinking of, then this river runs directly past your grandfathers cabin, and you can only hope that if Daryl was alive and out there looking for you, that he comes this way.

He should know about this, you stumbled upon it while on a run the one day. You remember about it, but all you knew was that it was next to the river that looked really pretty when the sun was setting, and it still does.

You only had about two hours of sunlight left, and you didn’t know how far you had to go yet, or even if you were going in the right direction.

If this cabin was here, maybe you could finally get a decent nights sleep, that is if it isn’t destroyed by walkers and the storms that plow through.

“I’m going to go get some more firewood.” A woman’s voice sounds through the trees. You stop, moving, furrowing your brows as you try and listen, but she’s already moving, walking away from the small building.

Your cabin.

You feel like you could throw up.

You turn around, trying to see if you can get a glimpse of who she was talking, too, but nothing.

“Raise your hands and turn around slowly.”

You whip around, catching her off guard before her face settles, “Holy shit.” Carol laughs slightly, “Daryl is going to lose his mind.”

She pulls you into a hug and you hear her sniffle, “oh my god, look at you.” She leans back, hands sliding over your hand and down your face, “You grew up.”

You smile slightly, your mind going back to who’s in the cabin, “Is he in there?”

“Every chance he got.” She shakes her head, “So much has happened.” You see the pain in her eyes but you opt to keep things happy right now, “we can talk later. I want to see Daryl first.”

She nods, brushing hair from your face, “Im so happy you found your way back.”

“It was hell, but right now, totally worth it.” You take a deep breath, “You go in first.”

She nods, walking a head of you as she leads you back towards the cabin, “Hey Daryl.” Carol calls as she smaller back at you, “I found something that you’re going to want to see.”

You stand by the fire, the glow illuminates you as you stand there waiting to see his face for the very first time in five years.

The feelings you had, never went away.

“What’d ya fi-“ His face falls and his arms go limp by his sides as he shakes his head, “No fuckin’ way.”

Tears well up in your eyes as Daryl slowly steps down off the porch, “No fuckin’ way.” He looks at Carol and back to you before quickly making his way over to you.

“Where the hell ya been?” He grabs you, pulling you into his chest tight, “I thought you were dead, I-.” He leans back, looking over your slightly older looks.

“Negan told us that he watched you get attacked by walkers.” Carol chimes in, finishing what Daryl couldn’t, “He brought back your necklace, there was blood on it.. we didn’t..”

You keep your hands on Daryl, your fingers moving under the sleeve of his jacket, “Negan snapped that necklace off my neck before they dumped me in the middle of nowhere.”

Daryl scoffs, pulling you closer to rest his chin on your head. Carol smiles as she watches the affectionate radiate off of him.

“They drove me way past the city, too. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure they drugged me or something because I was out for most of the trip.”

You feel Daryl’s grip tighten with your words and you shake your head, laying a hand on his bicep, “So much happened.”

You think back to all the stuff you had to do just to make it back to here, cringing at yourself.

“Ya hungry?” Daryl asks changing the subject and you nod, “Starving.”

——

Since the minute you found them, Daryl hasn’t left your side, and Dog right by his.

You were able to handle the news of the deaths and destruction among your group and homes, it hurt to hear, but it’s better that you know how than walking in expecting everything to be all sunshine and rainbows.

ou cried, but there was one question you needed the answer to.

“Are the Savior’s gone?” You looked up at Carol as she looks to Daryl. Your attention moves to him and he nods, “Ah, yeah. Yeah. But..”

“What?”

“Negan is at Alexandria.”

You’re on your feet, “What.”

“It’s only tem-“

You turn, walking away from Carol as she tries to explain, but you walk over to a tree, pressing your hand into it.

As you take a few deep breathes, you feel someone walking up to you, “I just need a minute.” You tilt your head, closing your eyes as you swallow the feeling of wanting to puke away.

“S’alot to process.” Daryl mumbles, unsure of what to do, “Take your time.”

Do you resent him now?

Are you going to leave again?

He wanted you to know everything, but he wouldn’t have if that meant you leaving again.

“Daryl?” You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks, “Sorry I just..” he shakes his head, “please don’t leave me again.”

“Leave you again?” You laugh slightly, letting out a sigh, “Why would you think that I’d leave you? I’ve been looking for you.”

“I haven’t stopped. I came here because I-“

You smirk slightly, “Because you actually paid attention to your bestie?”

He gives you a small smirk, shoulders heaving as he laughs ever so slightly, “You’ve changed..” Daryl brushes his hand over your hair, his thumb gently brushing over your face, His brows furrow, “when did you get this?”

His finger brushes over the scar on your top lip, “Did someone do this t’you?”

“One of those assholes that pushed me out of the car, hit my face on a rock.” You shake your head, “It’s just a scar, Daryl.”

Which was one of many you have received.

“Sorry I-“

“Don’t. Don’t do that.” You shake your head, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, okay.”

All he does is nod but you frown slightly, “Have I ever told you that I liked you?”

“I don’t think you’d come on runs with me if ya didn’t.” Daryl looks at you and you tilt your head, “No, like..” you bite your lip and sigh.

He laughs slightly, “M’old enough to be your daddy, y/n.” You smirk up at him, getting ready to say something but he pulls you towards him, “Watch out.”

Natural instinct, you have your knife in your hand within a second and you both swing around, the blades of your knives entering the dead’s skull in unison.

You look at the knives and back to Daryl, “Either way I look at it.” You pull your knife from the walker, “You and I will always have unfinished business to take care of.”

Daryl shakes his head as he withdrawals his knife, “You think?”

You lay your hand on his chest, “I know.”

You couldn’t let yourself feel what you’ve pushed through, but both Carol and Daryl can see that.

“Hi, boy.” You bend down to pet Dog, your shirt riding up to reveal a slightly bigger scar than on your lip. Daryl’s eyes fixate on it right away and he clenches his jaw.

Before he can ask, you stand up, “You fix up everything?”

“Yeah, go take a look.” Daryl sniffles and walks towards Carol as you walk into the cabin. Memories of growing up here flood through, almost breaking that barrier until Dog pushes between your legs, whining as he trots in.

“Do you need anything?” Carol asks walking up beside you. You shake your head, hesitating to look over at her at first, “No, no. I’m good.”

“We can head back to Alexandria in the morning.” She rubs your back, “It’s really good to have you back.”

You smile, nodding, “It’s really nice to not be alone.”

“What happened out there?”

You shake your head sluggishly, “I don’t-“

“Okay.” She says quickly as Daryl walks in. You look up at him, “I think I’m going to go lay down.” You walk over to where your bag is and sit down.

You bring your knees to your chest, eyes focusing on Dog as he glows in the light of the fire.

A few moments later, Daryl’s footsteps move closer to you. He stays silent as he moves to sit next to you. He brings his arm out, laying it around your back as he pulls you into his side.

You immediately fall into him, your head on his chest, arm around his torso. He inches back, just enough to lean against the wall for support.

Daryl looked down at you, gently playing with strands of your now long hair, it was just a little past your shoulders when you were separated.

You lost weight from having to scavenge for any food that was safe to eat.

He knew what you went through was tormenting you, he just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone.

“Look at me, y/n.”

You roll over into your back, head in his lap as you stare up at him.

“When you’re ready to tell someone, m’here f’ya.”

You close your eyes as his hand strokes over your hair. You haven’t felt this safe in a while, so you were just trying to soak it all in without having to worry every single second of the day and most nights.

“I love you.” Daryl whispers, “Should’ve told you that years ago.”

“It’s about time you say those words to me, Daryl Dixon.” You sit up, keeping your chest on his arm as you lean in, “I love you.”

——

I started to hate this towards the end but I NEEDED to get this off of my chest. I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love you so much. Thank you for reading! 🖤

likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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morgluvsconnie · 4 months

Text

when connie first saw you, he knew you were the one.

what does that mean?

“ay, y/n. this my homeboy connie. connie, this y/n.” ony said, throwing his arm over your shoulders. “hey.” you said, waving with a little smile. “wassup.” a seemingly uninterested connie spoke back.

on the outside, he didn’t really care for no kind of introduction. but on the inside, was this boy dyinggg.

when he looked up from rolling, he had to double take. the way your dress hugged your body, the way you looked in general, the way your voice sounded too. lorddd.

and the fact that you could see exactly what you were wearing underneath made it so much better.

you didn’t immediately try to flirt with him when you first saw him, and that’s what made you even more perfect.

he wanted to stare more, but he wasn’t a simp or nothing. so he focused back on the blunt he was rolling. or… that’s what he thought he was doing until he sat back and looked back up at you as ony talked about how he thought you two would be good friends.

“i mean y’all ain’t that much alike but shit, sumn like that.” ony said before sitting down next to connie. as you stood there awkwardly, connie glanced at you, scooting over a little. “you can sit down. ion bite.” he mumbled.

you weren’t familiar with this friend group. the only person you knew was mikasa. and eren, but that’s only because that was her boyfriend, and mikasa was something like your best friend.

but when you saw connie, it was different.

he was laid back, but didn’t look boring. he didn’t look too intimidating, and he didn’t immediately try to flirt with you for no reason.

“how come i never seen you around here?” was the first question he asked. “ion be around these typa parties.” you brushed your hand through your freshly did hair, looking around.

“whatchu mean by that?” he said, putting the blunt to his lips and flicking the lighter. he stood up to put the tray on the table, and instead of sitting back down beside you, he sat on the low table in front of the couch you were on.

“i meannn, ion know nobody here.” you looked at him. quickly scanning him, he had a slightly fluffy buzz cut that he seemingly hasn’t had cut in a while, other than the sides.

his ears were pierced on both sides, the shining lights of the party making them sparkle every few seconds.

“who you tryna get introduced to?” he asked.

“you.” you said, staring up at him with a small smile. connie looked at you before smacking his lips and shaking his head. “i can’t describe myself. i’m connie, grey hair, one tat, i smoke, what else you wanna know?”

“you look like you got hoes.” you completely disregarded his question, making him raise his eyebrows.

“really.”

“yes, really.” you tilted your head a little.

connie clicked his tongue and looked at the ceiling.

“i mean, unless you don’t.” you pursed your lips together and raised your eyebrows. “i don’t.” connie slowly started to smile.

you rolled your eyes playfully and stood up. “right…”

before you could go anywhere, he grabbed your wrist. “you leavin?”

“to drink.” you looked back at him.

“you comin back?”

you looked at him for a second before laughing softly and patting his hand. “see you later, connie.”

#𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚕𝚞𝚟𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎₊✩ˎˊ˗#connie springer x black reader #connie springer x reader #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie springer #connie headcanons #connie springer headcanons #aot connie

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princessbrunette · 3 months

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kitty!reader had been curbing the craving for a tantrum all day.

jj had been tolerant — bless his soul. the attitude you’d been holding onto was lethal, huffing and puffing at any chance with the most poisonous tongue all because he’d woken you up from a nap for seemingly no other reason that ‘let’s go hang with the pogues today!’

you didn’t want to hang with the pogues. you wanted to take a nap and continue drooling on your boyfriends arm.

his patience only lasts so long, and before you know it he’s trying to have it out with you — get to the root of the issue so he could solve whatever problem it was that had you like this. as the conversation unfolds, he starts to realise that you’d caused all this commotion purely because you were tired.

“like — if i acted the way you’re actin’ right now everytime i was tired, babe — john b would’a smacked the shit out’a me by now. okay? i need you to like get it together or something. damn.” he rants, whipping off his hat as he steps into your bedroom to run a hand through matted blonde hair.

you feel that familiar irritation bubble up in your chest at his response. “you’re being so mean, jayj. you literally hate me.” you have nothing left in the tank but meaningless jabs and it was clear — your boyfriend rolling his eyes with a smirk. “don’t tell me to get it together.”

“first of all shut up. second of all yeah, i could have been nicer but you did call me an asshole for suggesting you take a nap. an asshole.” he’s quick to reiterate.

“i already explained why i can’t do that.” you frown, crossing your arms over your chest.

“and it makes no sense. but whatever.” he shrugs. unable to control yourself anymore, you all but growl — shoving and smacking at his chest a couple of times before backing off. “oh that’s what you wanna do, mama? alright.” he laughs. laughs at you — and you only get more mad.

you stand on your tiptoes to really get in his face, eyes thinning with a deadly glare (or what you thought was deadly, he thought you looked like a pissed off kitten.) “fuck. you.” it’s practically a challenge, and when you turn away to storm off — you go absolutely nowhere, jj’s thick arm wrapping around your neck and dragging you back to press his body to yours.

“if you insist, sourpuss. your words, not mine.” he starts to ruck up your skirt, kicking your legs open. you mewl, still angry and whiny and even fight him a little bit but he only grips you tighter, lowering his body and bringing his lips to your ear.

“i dunno what’s got into you kittycat but you’re pissin’ me off. if you ain’t gonna drop that attitude im gonna have to force it out of you. that seem fair?” he threatens as his fingers stroke over the material of your panties making your knees buckle just a little. “think that answers my question. this all you needed?” jj snickers meanly.

approximately seven minutes later and he’s still holding you just like that, but you’re barely able to hold yourself up. with the speed at which his fingers are fucking you, there are loud squelching sounds filling the room alongside your own whines. you’d practically melted into his body, teary eyes squeezed shut as he brutally fucks an orgasm out of you.

“shit, bae — all that talkin’ before and now you can’t say a word. s’what you get when you let papa j take all that stress away, huh?”

#jj maybank prompt #kitty!reader

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rebelliousstories · 1 month

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Pretty as a Peach

Relationship: Cooper “The Ghoul” Howard x Reader

Fandom: Fallout

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff, Strong Language, Brief Angst

Word Count: 1,322

Main Masterlist: Here

Fallout Masterlist: Here

Part Two of: Peachy

Summary: There’s something odd about this girl that had started traveling with the duo. But it does give Lucy a peak behind the curtain on the Wasteland’s most notorious partners in crime.

“Rise and shine babies!” Someone screamed right as the light started to filter into their shelter for the evening. Lucy groaned as she stretched, before rubbing her eyes and looking around. The same woman from last night, the one that The Ghoul called “Peach” was still there. She shook awake the man next to her, who merely grumbled.

“‘M tired, sweetie. Just go back to sleep.” He said, voice thick with accent and sleep. Cooper reached a hand up and removed his hat from his eyes to look at where the offending noise came from.

“You said we’d leave at the break of day. Don’t tell me you forgot already, old bones?” She teased, bending over to place her hands on her knees.

“I’ll show you old man.” Howard growled, and swiped for the woman. But she stepped back and giggled maniacally at his failed attempt.

“Come on. I wanna get this show on the road.” And she left without another word. Her two new companions were made to catch up to her as she left. Thankfully, neither one had bothered unpacking much which made the whole process easier. Lucy watched as Cooper marched forward and slowed his pace once he made it to the woman.

The vault dweller was fascinated by what she saw on their journey through the day. She saw a different side of The Ghoul that she was traveling with. Not going as far as to say sweet, but definitely caring. As they walked, Lucy saw the pair in front of her sharing food, water, and on occasion, words. It was not until a familiar four legged friend came up that their words became loud enough to be intelligible.

“Oh, who is this?” She knelt down to the dog with a dead iguana in her mouth. The pup’s tail was wagging at a hundred miles an hour at the attention, while the woman scratched behind her ears.

“That’s DogMeat. Ain’t mine, but stays with me I suppose.” Cooper drawled, looking disinterested in the animal, but his partner knew better. Yet, she said nothing about it.

“Well, hello DogMeat. I’ll let you have breakfast.” The woman stood back up and watched the dog for a moment more, before resuming her pace. DogMeat stayed behind for a bit, just long enough for her to tear into her meal, before she rejoined the trio. This time Lucy got an even different view of The Ghoul.

Occasionally, his hand dipped down to find the dog he claimed not to care about, delivered a passing pet, and then retracted it. Usually at the same time, his other hand would search out the peachy woman next to him before, also, retracting. Lucy could not hear the words spoken between the two, but she could see the gestures. When she complained about the sun, and shielded her eyes with her hand, Cooper reached up and placed her hat on her head. If she was fanning herself, he would reach into his pocket and give her his canteen.

But she also did things for him that made her have hope for civilization on the surface. Whenever he began to pat himself down, she would reach into her own bag and give him a readily available chem for his inhaler. If Cooper rubbed his stomach and reached for his canteen, she would hand him some jerky instead. They took care of themselves, as well as each other. Lucy knew that if she were to ask, they would both say that this was just a partnership born out of necessity. But if there is one thing she had learned on the surface it is that people just do not stick around other people unless there is a deeper reason.

She saw it in the way they sought each other out as they walked. If they moved through difficult terrain, he would always make sure that it was safe for her to move first. As the night grew closer, and the cold came in with the night, Cooper kept the woman closer and closer until they found shelter. The trio found themselves a little barn type structure to stay the night. It was open save for one set of door, but it was better than sleeping in the elements where you had no idea someone was sneaking up on you until it was too late.

Cooper looked around the area as he set down his saddle bag. Peach came over and set down the hat on top of the bag before setting out to explore. She made her way all over the dilapidated barn, careful not to break the barn or herself. It was not until she tried to climb to the hayloft that The Ghoul stepped in.

“Don’t you go climbin’ woman. You gonna get yourself hurt, Peach.” He groaned, watching her pause briefly in her efforts.

“I’ll be fine.” She shot back, already resuming her climb. Her journey was successful as she safely made her way into the loft, and poked her head out off of the side.

“See? I’m fine. You should come up, Coop. ‘S got a good view.” And she rolled out of sight. The man sighed heavily, but followed her request much to Lucy’s astonishment. She watched him climb the same rickety ladder that Peach had climbed just moments before. Staying down on the ground with DogMeat, the vault dweller began to gather things that they would need to start a fire for the evening. Light faded fast as she finished building the flames up to a point that they could enjoy it. A little bit later, the duo came down from their loft. Hay stuck to her hair and his duster, but no one had made a noise so Lucy was not sure what they were doing for the last hour.

“Come here, DogMeat.” She called,and the canine responded. Her head rested in the woman’s lap as she scratched her nails over her fur. The pup closed her eyes and eventually fell asleep in her lap, to which she gushed over.

“Oh this is just the cutest thing ever.” Peach cooed, careful not to raise her voice and wake the dog.

“Yeah, she’s pretty cute.” Lucy agreed, watching them in their moment. Both women turned to the man with them simultaneously and looked at him with hopeful faces.

“It’s a dog. Whatcha want me to say?” He grumbled, knees up to his chest and head bare from his hat.

“Oh, don’t give me that, Coop. You think she is adorable.” Peach leaned her body into the side of the ghoul next to her, who merely shot her a look, to which she ignored.

“Okey dokey. I’m going to go to sleep. Goodnight you two.” Lucy proclaimed, setting up a little palette a bit a ways from the fire. It was close enough that she could still feel the heat, but far enough away that she could give the couple their privacy.

“I kinda like that Vaultie, Coop.” The woman sighed, keeping her voice to a whisper as she gazed at the young woman that was now asleep.

“Ain’t nothn’ special ’bout her. ‘Cept her last name. Pain in my ass most of the time.” He replied, finding his eyes on the young woman as well.

“I was that ‘pain in the ass Vaultie’ once. Remember?” Her question made The Ghoul pause before he responded.

“Yeah I do. But now, you’re my little peach girl. Pretty as one too.” Cooper dropped a kiss to her hair and slung an arm around her while she settled in to sleep. They laid together, with her tucking herself in closer underneath Howard’s duster. As they drifted off to sleep, Lucy laid awake. She could barely make out what was being said but it was interesting to her enough that she would have to ask about it. The Ghoul’s Peachy Girl was a former vault dweller.

#rebelliousstories #writing #fallout #fallout imagine #cooper howard #cooper howard imagine #cooper howard x reader #cooper the ghoul howard #cooper howard x oc #the ghoul x oc #the ghoul imagine #the ghoul fallout #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul #lucy maclean

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tightjeansjavi · 3 months

Text

The Rite of Movement | drabble

“Your Pussy is God”

A/N: happy international women’s day to you, my baby loves! Cooked y’all up something real good on this special day celebrating all women 💗 pornstar!joel is here to worship each and every one of you ;) big thank you to my baby love bug @strang3lov3 for this moodboard and @itsokbbygrl for doing a quick beta read!

~word count: 655~

Summary: your pussy is god, baby love

Pairing | pornstar!joel x pornstar!female reader

Warnings: none, fluff, smut, domestic intimacy, established relationship, pussy eating, unprotected piv, body worship, pussy drunk Joel, filthy talk, language, soft vibes!, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her 30’s, readers nickname is baby love, reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

series masterlist

You feel the gentle scrape of his beard along your cheek bringing you back down to reality, ears ringing, breaths mingling as he presses a kiss to your lips, lashes fluttered, chests rising and falling in sync.

Sweat slicked, sticky skin adhered together like glue. He pulses inside of you, cock dully throbbing around your fluttering cunt.

There are no cameras this time. Just you and Joel in the shared comfort of the early morning where the sun has barely begun to rise along the horizon. The mourning dove coos outside of the open window, soft cream colored curtains billow in a cool breeze that kisses your exposed skin.

He lets out a grunt, low and deep as he slowly eases his cock from between your thighs. One strong arm loops around your waist, hugging you to him as his lips brush across your jaw. His movements are languid, no rush behind them as he trails his lips further, and further.

He kisses the column of your neck, tongue dragging across your pulse point, licking up your salt and perspiration, tasting the familiar tang on his tongue. He groans, nose pressing, dragging downwards.

“What’re you doing, baby?” You hum, lashes still fluttered shut as your hand slides upwards, resting along the back of his head and carding your fingers through his sweat stained curls.

“Tastin’ you, baby love.” He rasps, dragging his lips further to kiss the edge of your shoulder, between your breasts, tongue dragging down your sternum, stopping just above your belly button.

“Mmm.” You sigh contentedly, “continue.”

His lips curve upwards against your skin, grinning like a devil at your comment for him to continue. “Can I clean up the mess between your thighs? Let you ride my tongue out before the sun rises?” He pressed an open mouthed kiss against your hip, nibbling gently eliciting a giggle from you.

“Mhmmm. I would love that, baby. Clean up the mess that we made.” You correct him softly, peeking an eye open to watch him.

“You’re so pretty.” He coos, letting his freehand gently grasp your thigh and press it open as he sinks down further. “So pretty in this light, so soft, all mine.” He babbles, mind fuzzy and pussy drunk.

Your hips shift, making room to accommodate him comfortably. He wraps one arm around your stomach, gently pulling you down closer to his mouth while his freehand teases through your folds, spreading your inner lips open, messy and sticky with yours and his cum.

“Such a pretty little messy pussy, baby love.” He hums, smacking his lips together in anticipation because there isn’t a moment in the day where he’s not thinking of tasting you on his tongue. It’s his fuel, his energy, his life source—

“I love it when you talk about my pussy, Joel. Makes me feel so good inside that you think she’s so pretty.” You open both of your eyes, meeting his gaze just as he drags his tongue from your weeping hole, through your folds, and up to your clit, his eyes never leave yours. He gathers up your combined releases on his tongue, swallowing it down like he was quenched with thirst.

“Mmm. That’s what you deserve, baby love. To feel good, to feel loved, worshipped, admired, fuck—ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do to make you feel my love.” He makes your heart and pussy clench, and he doesn’t even have to try.

“Dude.” You giggle. “Who the fuck is cutting onions? How can you go from filthy to romantic in—oh” you sigh softly, head falling back against the roused pillows as his tongue flicks back and forth across your clit, lips wrapping around the nub, sucking gently with the intent to make you come undone all over again.

“Like this.” He chuckles, continuing his ministrations and taking you apart with his tongue, coaxing you to give him just a little bit more of his favorite meal.

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atticrissfinch · 10 months

Note

HI BESTIE IT’S ME HELLO HI! I HAVE REQUEST.

I love your stories I’m wondering if you’d ever want to write a serial killer joel where reader is lost in the woods or something and he invites her in and she tries to leave once she sees but😈sorry I’m so fucked up HAHAHA thank you🩵

Hostage (serial killer!joel miller x fem!reader) (18+)

pairing: serialkiller!joel miller x fem!reader summary: when you get lost in the woods, a stranger offers to help you get back to your camping site. when your gut tells you to run, you run--until he catches you. CAUTION: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS/TAGS warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] dark!serialkiller!joel, extreme dubcon/essentially noncon, kidnapping, assault, gunplay, gun insertion, knifeplay, mentions of blood/bloodplay, mentions of ambiguous full noncon, restraints, unprotected piv, creampie, antiquated views on how vaginas work, degradation as an insult (whore, slut, bitch, cunt, etc)word count: ~5.2K | ao3 a/n: thank you to @within-the-depths for this lovely request! I love delving into dark!joel and this was the perfect excuse to try something new for me!! Might be a possibility for some sequels here if i get inspired enough and people like this 👀 Masterlist | Kofi

Camping by yourself had seemed like an awesome idea at the time, but at this moment, the gravity of your poor decision-making skills is really setting in.

You stumble through the bramble and brush, every direction a carbon copy of the one you faced prior. Your dumb ass didn’t think you’d need your entire hiking pack just to fill your canteen at the nearby babbling brook. All you needed was a good ear, right? Just follow the sounds of the stream, no problem.

Yeah. Fucking problem.

The woods around you are thick and dense, disorienting you as you search for the proper path. You should have turned back about 25 minutes ago, but now you have no fucking idea where “back” even is.

“Lookin’ a little lost there, darlin’.”

You jump about a mile into the air at the voice behind you, and you whirl around frantically.

A man, broad and rugged, stands with a knee popped out and a curious expression. He’s armed with a hunting rifle pointed at the ground, but hands at the ready if he needed to fire it.

His intimidating stature has you shrinking back a little.

“Just, uh, just getting my bearings, that’s all.” You stutter out, not entirely sure you should trust a stranger in the woods with your current circumstance. You are very unequipped and very alone. Not a winning combination for anyone but a psycho.

But he looks just like a normal guy. Your average hunter-gatherer type in his sturdy jeans, thick flannel, and beaten-to-hell steel-toe boots.

“Well,” He says, using the low-aimed barrel of his rifle to gesture a sweeping semi-circle around the forest, “I’m pretty damn familiar with these parts. ‘Fact, I got a cabin a little ways back. Got a radio in it. Could call for a ranger to guide you back. Probably a shorter walk than tryin’ to find your campin’ spot blind.”

“Oh, I really appreciate the offer, but I think I just need to—”

“Only gonna get yourself more lost, darlin’. Know for a fact you ain’t gonna get any reception out here. You don’t got no compass, no supplies,” His eyes sweep up and down your figure, “Not the most practically dressed, neither.”

You shuffle your feet, looking down at your graphic tee and biking shorts. Maybe not the best wardrobe for being stranded in the woods, but you were wearing tennis shoes and hiking socks.

“How’s about you come on back to my cabin and we’ll get you fixed up,” He invites, taking a few steps toward you.

You take a half step back and he stills in response.

You turn your head to look behind you, then back at the man. “Mister, I’m sure you’re a nice guy and all, but I really think I can figure out—”

He advances toward you, shaking his head with an odd expression on his face—frustration? When he gets close enough he holds a hand out to you, schooling his face into one that’s more controlled.

“Don’t be stubborn with me, now. Let’s just get you where you need to be goin’.” He levels you with an expectant look and emphasizes his outstretched hand.

You eye it anxiously but ultimately take it. His grip is warm, callused, and sturdy. He leads you resolutely in a specific direction, tugging you along when you fail to keep up properly. The deeper into the trees he takes you, the louder the alarm bells chime in your head.

When you can’t dismiss them anymore, you dig your heels into the dirt, yanking the two of you to a stop. The man’s head whips around at you with that same weird look on his face from before.

“I’m sorry, I really think I need to just find my own way.”

The man angrily huffs in a tone that heartily reinforces your intuition. “Stop fuckin’ fightin’ with me and—HEY!” He yells after you as you bolt in the opposite direction.

You don’t think, you just run.

“Get back here, little rabbit!” He bellows after you, much closer than you expected it to be to your absolute horror.

In a matter of seconds, the collar of your shirt is hauled back with startling force, choking you before you crash backward onto the forest floor. You shove past the pain surging in the back of your head and scramble to get back on your feet when a large boot slams into your chest and pins you to the ground. The weight behind it has you struggling to breathe, clawing at the obstruction in frenzied desperation.

“Shouldn’t’ve run, little rabbit,” the man warns a tad too late. You see him shake his head in disappointment as he raises the butt of his rifle. You freeze in terror as it races down toward your head—

And then everything goes black.

—

Your surroundings fade back in incrementally, battling head-on with the splitting headache burgeoning in your skull. Your drooping head lifts to find both of your hands cuffed to durable but weathered iron hoops embedded in the wall. Your mouth absorbs your drool as rapidly as it’s produced from the cloth shoved into it. You can taste a tang on the fabric—the taste of you, you recognize with a twinge of horror. Your panties. Secured in your mouth and prevented from expulsion by a thick rope knotted at the back of your head.

And you’re naked.

Seated on the filthy, unforgiving floorboards and bound to the walls of a dismal log cabin, furnished with scarcity. A splintered wooden dining table with a hunting rifle strewn atop it. Two spindly chairs. A lumpy floral upholstered couch that has seen much better days positioned in front of a squat coffee table littered with newspapers and empty beer cans.

An ill-kempt kitchenette adorns one end of the space, a blood-encrusted butcher’s knife lying carelessly on the counter with a red-stained tea towel and various other sinister-looking paraphernalia.

And then there’s that man. Back resting against the front door with his arms across his chest, sizing you up.

“Afternoon,” He grunts.

The panic sets in and you yank uselessly at your bonds, screaming against your gag, propping your bare feet under you in a feeble attempt at leverage.

The man laughs, pushing himself off the door and strolling lazily toward you. “Don’t tire yourself out, now. I like ‘em a little fiery. Struggle too much and the flame tends to peter out right quick.”

You ignore him, poised in a crouch and pulling all your weight forward with a muted grunt, praying the rusted tethers choose right now to give out.

“Gonna pull those arms right out their sockets, little rabbit. Ain’t gonna do you a lick’a good, I assure ya.”

The unbothered tenor of his voice and the amused expression on his face persuades you that he’s probably right. You crumble back against the wall, hands hanging limp in the air at the wrists and your feet out in front—just in case you’re presented with an opportunity to get a good kick in. What you would do after that you have no idea, but you have to do something.

“That’s better,” The man placates, dropping into a crouch just out of your reach. “I’d say don’t get your panties in a twist, but…guess I already did that for ya, didn’t I?” He laughs to himself at his little joke, stroking his bottom lip with a meaty thumb. “My god, you’re a beautiful thing, aren’t ya?”

You meet him with a glare, jaw shifting uncomfortably as it begins to ache from being stuffed open.

“You want the gag out?”

For a second you consider being stubborn, but decide it won’t get you anywhere. So you give a single nod.

“Alright, but let me be real fuckin’ clear,” he says, reaching behind him to pull a small revolver from his waistband and brandishing it haphazardly as he gesticulates with his hands. “If you scream, you die. Point blank. But if you behave for me, all nice and pretty-like, you may just walk out of this alive. And on two intact feet, even.” He weighs those words for a moment, scratching at the side of his head with the muzzle of the gun, before amending, “Well…maybe mostly intact. Guess it depends on how good y’are for me.”

A small whimper escapes you at the implication.

“We clear?” He asks with raised brows. “Scream, die. Quiet, live. Can’t be more simple’n that.”

His words illuminate a tiny crawl space in your brain, a single phrase you’d heard once before: Calm people live; panicked people die.

You focus on your breathing, taking one large inhale in, then out through your nose. You look him straight in the eyes and nod your understanding.

He shifts closer to you onto one knee. You feel the cool metal of his revolver at your temple and the click of the safety disengaging as he reminds you one more time, “Don’t scream, little rabbit.”

You give him the gentlest, briefest of nods, pleading with your eyes.

He finagles a butterfly knife between the fabric of your underwear and the rope, oriented so one edge of the blade rests against the restraint and the other edge kisses your lips with a soft, yet alarming sharpness. He saws through the rope swiftly, only just shy of slicing your plump, tender lips by the forward tilt of the knife. The severed rope thumps to the ground and he tentatively slips the makeshift gag from your parched mouth.

When you remain dutifully silent for what he deems a suitable amount of time, the gun uncocks and withdraws as he secures it again at the back of his jeans. Your eyes track his movements as he handles your saliva-damp panties, twisting and wrapping them tight around his wrist through the holes like some sadistic bracelet—like a trophy of his conquest.

You will not die another conquest. Another trophy.

You will make it out of this.

No matter what his demands.

“Very good. Obedient little thing. That bodes well for you,” The man muses. Using the flat of his knife he tilts up your chin, the point of it dimpling the supple skin there. You don’t feel any blood pooling quite yet, but you know the threat of it looms by his own design. “Now, tell me, what were you doin’ out there in the wilderness all by your lonesome?”

Calm. Don’t panic. Think.

“I’m not by myself,” You assert, cramming every iota of even-keeled sincerity you can muster into your words. “I’m with my family.”

He nods with a hint of skepticism on his face. “Are ya now? Because I can’t recall seein’ nobody else at that cute little campsite of yours.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. “You…you’ve been watching me?”

He smirks, reveling in the fear exuded in your eyes. “Couldn’t help myself. Beautiful thing like you. Took one look and knew I had to have ya, little rabbit.”

“They’re gonna come looking for me,” You spout with wavering confidence.

The man's smile broadens mockingly. “No, they’re not. No one is. And we both know it.”

“Mister,” You whimper helplessly, “Please let me go.”

The man’s eyes dip to his knife as he scrapes it featherlight on the underside of your chin, stopping when you’re precariously balanced on the tip. Your bottom lip quivers as you force your chin to remain upwards, to not sink back down onto it and accidentally impale yourself.

“Call me Joel,” The man offers conversationally. “Feels a bit more…personal. Don’t you think?”

“J-J-Joel,” You whisper breathily, “Please let me go. I won’t tell anyone about this.”

He cocks his head as if in thought. “Hmm. I don’t know. Haven’t proven yourself very useful to me yet. Not really any reason to just let ya hop on back into the woods.”

“W-what can I do?” You swallow nervously. “I’ll do what you want. Just please don’t hurt me.”

Joel chuckles, bearing upward on the knife just enough to gather a pearl of blood on the tip and then gliding the blade onto his tongue obscenely, the vibrant liquid spiderwebbing through the crevices of his tastebuds.

He licks his lips, smearing your diluted blood across the upper one and then sucking it clean in his mouth again.

He leans forward, and you feel his breath wash over your face as he orders you with a slight smirk, “Alright. Beg.”

You do everything within your power to keep even a single tear from falling.

“Please. Please, Joel. Please, don’t hurt me.”

Joel’s gaze grows darker as he takes in the full expanse of your body at his mercy. “What are you willin’ to trade for that, little rabbit?”

A lump forms in your throat as you come to terms with what he’s suggesting. In the back of your mind, you knew exactly what he’d wanted with you when you woke up naked. You haven’t had adequate time to parse out all the possibilities of what he could have already done with you unconscious. He could have done any number of things with your body. Everything seems okay between your legs from what you can feel, but you would never be able to tell without a doubt.

You quickly sift through your options as well as you can. You already tried to fight the restraints, and that was a complete bust. It’s not like a kidnapper would be lax about that–the restraint is the most vital part of an abduction. You highly doubt you could knock him out, and even if you did, there is no guarantee he even has the keys on him.

Not to mention you are in the middle of fucking nowhere, with no way to find your way back. You haven’t spotted any sort of radio device in the cabin yet, so he was likely lying about that, just like he was about everything else. If you were going to escape, you’d have to think of a plan over a more prolonged period of time.

As horrendous a thought as it is, getting him on your side might be the best option. And what better way to get a man on your side than…

You take a deep breath of resignation. With delicate, careful movements, you slowly bend your knees up and spread your feet out.

A hungry groan rumbles in Joel’s chest as he takes in the sight you’re willingly presenting. “Such a pretty little flower you got there, little rabbit. Almost went ahead and just took it while you were out cold.”

That unspoken fear that he may have already indulged himself in your body starts to ebb away reluctantly. Logically, you know what you’re offering him really isn’t much better in the grand scheme. Neither option is strictly consensual. But you think you’d rather know. Rather see what he’s doing with you. For you, that’s enough to warrant a smidge of relief.

You spread wider for him, the folds of your cunt parting open almost in welcome.

“Fuck,” He breathes, wetting his lips. “Them petals just blossomin’ right open for me, aren’t they, little rabbit?”

“Yes, Joel,” You utter shakily, wordlessly begging your insides to cooperate with your intentions despite the terror running rampant through them. You urge yourself to try and look past the man Joel is presenting himself to be. To study his face. His…tragically handsome face. A face that in any other context would’ve had you slick and ready long before now.

What a sick, twisted shame.

But it does start to work. You can feel your pussy preparing itself for the impending torture you’re threatening it with. You send a silent prayer to…whatever the fuck is out there. God, Aphrodite, Venus, the universe—it doesn’t fucking matter.

Joel stows his knife in his back pocket and slips a rough-hewn hand under your knee to maintain your spread for him.

“Naughty fuckin’ girl, gettin’ all soaked at the thought’a me. What a fuckin’ trashy slut. Offerin’ up your whore pussy in exchange for your life.” Joel grabs his revolver and nudges your chin up with it, digging the muzzle into your flesh as he moves his other hand from your leg to grip the back of your head and keep you still. “Your pussy worth it? Hmm? ‘M I gonna see God when I fuck it?”

“Yes,” You whimper desperately, not daring to break eye contact with him as you lose the battle with your tears and one spills over. “It’s worth it.”

Joel leans into you, close enough that you think he might press a kiss to your lips. But he dips down to your ear instead, reinforcing the indentation of the gun under your chin, and whispers, “You best pray it is. Because either way, I’m gonna fuck that pretty little flower until it wilts. And then we’ll see what it bought ya.”

His breath puffs suffocatingly over your skin as the gun travels down the column of your neck, caressing down the valley of your breasts. He tweaks your nipples using the curve of the muzzle opening, rousing them to hard points. Once he’s satisfied with his work, he continues his route down over your stomach. Your breathing hitches when the barrel skims your pubic mound and he halts.

“Are you scared, little rabbit?”

You clear your throat. “No.”

It comes out much stronger than you actually feel.

Your blood chills under your flesh as you hear him pull the hammer down on the gun once more to cock it, brushing against your mound again with the movement. Then you hear Joel’s taunting lilt in your ear, “How about now?”

Okay, you think. He wants you scared. Good to know.

Pretending not to be terrified was exhausting your already low emotional tank anyway.

“Y-y-yes, Joel. I’m fucking scared.”

He exhales a laugh through his nose as he prods the gun at the top of your outer lips. “Stupid cunt bitches like you are always so much tighter when you’re scared. More scared you are, the tighter you get. Scare ya enough, it’s like a fuckin’ vice around your cock. Ain’t nothin’ else like it.”

“I’ll be so tight, Joel,” you promise as another tear breaks free. “So fucking tight for you.”

Joel hums as the metal slides between your folds and he works it up and down with your manifested wetness. “Look at the way those lips hug my gun. So hungry for it.”

You shiver as the metal gradually warms with your own body heat, like it’s leaching it out of you. Your teeth begin to chatter uncontrollably, and you try to grit them in response. The slick weapon starts to move in tight circles on your clit, teasing you in a way that you can’t resist whining over, the danger of the act going foggy in your brain. The gun travels further south, nudging at your entrance with ominous promise.

“Should I fuck you with it, little rabbit? Should I make this little cunt eat my gun? Make you cream all over the bullets inside?”

A sob filters through your teeth as reality sets back in. He is pleasuring you with a loaded fucking gun. One misstep and you’re a fucking goner. Joel appears to be intimately familiar with this firearm, so you doubt anything he does will be an accident. But this man would not spare you a second thought if his finger slipped. He’d probably just unload into your corpse. Both his cum and his bullets. The thought has you in a full-body shiver. So you beg, “I need your cock, please, Joel. Don’t wanna wait.”

He breathes another laugh. “Yeah? Sounds more like you’re just tryin’ to save your own ass by kissin’ mine.”

You shake your head emphatically as you shudder. “No, no, I’m not. I just want you.”

“Well, lucky for you,” Joel mutters, pressing the muzzle flush to your opening, “I consider my gun to be a part of me.”

With a damning final push, the barrel breaches your hole, and a pained whimper slips out of you.

His teeth scrape your earlobe as he works his weapon inside you with agonizing thrusts. “Little cunt looks so fucking pretty wrapped around my piece. Loves the way I fuck it, don’t it?”

You allow your mind to drift away as best it can to minimize the fear coursing through you. You refrain from any sudden movements, languidly turning your head to bite into your upheld arm for some kind of grounding stimulus.

“Shit, you can barely take it, can you? I can feel this little pussy purrin’.” He pulls the gun out of you with a lewd squelch and rubs circles with it around your clit. Your hips buck into it with a groan and he chuckles. “Jesus, that's pretty. ‘F I gave a fuck about you, I could make you come all over it easy. So responsive.”

He enters you again with an increased pace and your head falls against the wall behind you with a pitiful moan.

“Yeah, fuckin’ take it. Squeeze that run-through whore cunt around my gun.”

You might actually squeeze around it if you weren’t acutely aware of the threat, of any rogue move setting it off inside you. The good news is it would be over fast. The bad news…well, you would be over.

And there’s so much fucking more that you want to do.

So if some deranged psychopath is offering you life for taking his loaded gun up your pussy, you’re gonna shut the fuck up and take it. But you’re not about to tempt fate any further.

“Oh, fuck, look at that,” Joel groans, gazing down at the barrel disappearing into your hole and reappearing with more graphic, pearly white smears on every withdrawal. “Knew you’d cream all over this fuckin’ gun for me. A true whore’ll cream over any fuckin’ thing you shove inside her.”

You clench your eyes shut as a wave of shame splashes over you. Your body reacting this way is mortifying. You do feel like a whore, bargaining with your pussy. But what’s worse is your pussy actually enjoying it.

“Fuck it, I gotta get my cock wet with that nasty little cunt,” He growls. Any chance at relief is short-lived when he pulls the glistening metal from your dripping hole and jams it against your lips. “Suck it off. Can’t have your whore juice all over my best gun.”

You whine as you reluctantly part your lips. He watches in lust as the barrel slides into your mouth and you close your lips around it.

“Suck it like a cock, little rabbit.”

More tears track your cheeks as you bob your head, sucking your slick off the foreboding steel. His lips curl in a snarl as he rams it in and out, gagging you with it. Joel scoffs in ridicule at your reaction, muttering something about “the whore needing more practice.”

You feel like you truly could cry in gratitude as Joel extracts the gun and uncocks it, tossing it just out of your reach. He pulls his knife out of his back pocket and holds it in his teeth as he shucks off his pants and boxers.

When his cock springs free, you instantly assess that it’s a perfect reflection of him—hardened, angry, imposing, and large.

You say another prayer for your pussy.

“Let’s see what this little fuckhole can do for me, huh?” Joel seats himself on the floor and maneuvers you until you’re straddling his lap, trembling legs hovering you over his cock with your sore arms still secure to the wall.

In a Hail Mary, you beg again, “Joel…could you please…my arms…”

Joel narrows his eyes at you with a warning. “I’m not fuckin’ stupid, you little bitch. Do not mistake my generosity for a lack of perception.”

Yeah. Okay. That was never going to work.

Joel points a dirty finger at you. “And you make no mistake, I am bein’ mighty generous with you. ‘F you weren’t so pretty, you’d be slit open stem to stern on that fuckin’ table back there right now,” he says, gesturing to the dining table behind you.

Your eyes bulge in terror as bile rises in your throat, gaze flitting over to the crusty knife on the counter, undoubtedly painted with his previous victim.

“Oh, not with that one, little rabbit,” Joel interjects when he follows your gaze. “That one’s for…disposal. No, this one's for cuttin’.” He flicks open the knife in his hand. The spotless blade catches in the cracks of light through the boarded-up windows as he rotates it for your viewing.

“This here’s Alice. I think the two of you have met,” He drawls, dragging the flat of “Alice” against your cheek.

“Yeah,” you gulp, staying stock still under his ministrations, “we’ve met.”

“Now, Alice is pretty well-behaved when I ask her to be. You gonna give her any more reason not to behave so well?”

“No, Joel. You have been very generous. You…you deserve this pussy,” you insist, lowering your hips to grind your cunt along the length of his hard cock that’s dripping precome onto his beer belly where his flannel has rucked up.

“Mmm, that certainly is a wet little cunt, isn’t it? You’re not just a rabbit, you’re a goddamn playboy bunny. Throwin’ yourself at me like I’m gonna fuck solid gold up your greedy whore pussy.”

You allow a gratuitous moan to grace your lips as you continue to roll your hips onto him.

“Jesus, you know how to work a cock, don’t you, bunny? Not sure you’re gonna be tight enough for me with all the dick you’ve taken. Probably slip right out.”

“I’m tight, I promise, Joel,” You moan out for him. “Put it in and you’ll see. So tight for you.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Joel’s knife whips around, lining up with your jugular, and you freeze.

“Are you under the impression that you’re callin’ the shots here, little rabbit? Because you do not fuckin’ tell me what to do. And the next time you do…” Joel contorts his face into a concentrated show of rage and jerks the knife across your neck, a hair's breadth away from your actual skin. A terrified squeak bursts forth from your–thankfully still intact–throat in reflex, the sound dying out with a quiver when you realize you��re still…alive.

“I’m sorry,” you mouth at him, voice losing all projection from the flicker of terror. “I won’t.”

Leaving you no room to recover, Joel is positioning his cock at your hole and plunging inside with a feral grunt. “Fuck yeah, so fuckin’ tight. I can feel that fear gripping my cock, little rabbit. Mmm. Fuckin’ terrified little slut.”

His cock is fucking unfathomable. You’re pretty sure you go almost numb the second he splits you open and starts pounding into you. You cut off your own scream, clamping your mouth shut as you struggle to keep quiet.

The hand still gripping the handle of his knife snatches at your jaw, squeezing the flesh of your cheeks in his fingers until your mouth pops open. “No, you fuckin’ scream for me, bunny. You tell me how hard I’m ripping apart this cunt.”

“You—you said…” You garble out through your deformed lips.

Joel thrusts up into you punishingly, drawing a scream from you. “I just don’t like those high-pitched screeches all you pathetic fuckin’ bitches make when you’re cryin’ for help. Sure as hell ain’t ‘cause anyone’ll hear ya.” Joel slams into you again and tightens his grip on your jaw, the blade of his knife burrowing into your cheek with the strength behind it. “Cause, trust me. Ain’t nobody hearin’ you scream all the way out here, little rabbit. You’re mine. ‘Til I say I’m done with you.”

And then he’s jackhammering up into your pussy with a firm hold still on your face, snarling and grunting as he completely obliterates you from the inside. Warm blood trickles down your cheek and over Joel’s fingers as you moan and yell for him, peppering his name within your cries to try and win whatever you can with it. He seems to like it, his name tearing out through your throat as he defiles you.

Joel’s knife clatters to the floor as he buries his filthy nails of both hands into your hips, pulling you down onto his cock as he fucks up into you. “Useless fuckin’ whore. Only good for takin’ this cock. Maybe I’ll just leave you tied up, fuck you ‘til your tight snatch is all stretched out and used up and fuckin’ worthless, then throw you to the wolves.”

And as fucked up as it sounds, that’s almost a glimmer of hope. That might be your best-case scenario at this point. Broken, used, abused…but still fucking alive.

So you let out a whine like that’s what you want. Like your deepest desire is for him to violate your holes until he’s through with you. And pray, pray to what the fuck ever, that he leaves you to the wolves.

If you’re good for him, maybe he’ll even give you a knife.

Your wanton cry has him stuttering and swearing as he hammers you with his cock until he’s growling his release, spilling himself deep inside of you for the first time instead of forcing you to spill yourself out for him.

Your blood is still drying on his knuckles, on your skin, as he pulls out. His spend chases after him, pooling onto his crotch. The back of his head hits the dirty wood floor with a heavy sigh as he strokes his bloody fingers along your thigh.

“I really just might keep you, little rabbit. Been gettin’ a little lonely out here. Be nice to have a warm cum dumpster at home that I don’t gotta go huntin’ for.”

“I could…” You mutter softly, a fresh puddle of said substance running out of your fucked hole, “I could be that. I could be a good…cum dumpster for you.”

He lifts his head to study you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Until you’re…you’re done with me. Then maybe you just…don’t kill me? That’s all I ask, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. Just…don’t kill me.”

“Hmm,” Joel ponders as he retrieves his knife and flicks it open and closed cyclically. “You gonna let me wear out these holes of yours and not complain? Not fight?”

“Yes.”

He purses his lips for a second and then nods, manhandling you off of him while he stands and pulls his clothes on, not even bothering to wipe off the mess you made of his abdomen.

Once dressed, he just stands there with a propped knee and his hands on his hips, scanning over you probingly. Finally, he grumbles, “I’ll think about it.”

He swipes his gun off the floor and delivers a firm but forgiving couple of smacks to your marred cheek with the barrel, in a way that’s almost…affectionate? He tugs your panties from his wrist and shoves them back into your mouth, making practiced work of knotting a new length of rope back around your head to secure the gag. This time, he ties your ankles together too for good measure.

He leaves you naked, gagged, and bound. Just as you awoke to find yourself anywhere from thirty minutes to a lifetime ago. He swings a worn canvas satchel onto his back from its place slumped by the doorway along with his rifle from the table. Before he slams the cabin door behind him, he winks at you over his shoulder.

“Don’t hop off nowhere, little rabbit.”

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 3 months

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The request from @toomanytookas: I have such fond memories of my grandmother teaching me how to sew on her old Singer. Obviously a WILDLY different context for a million different reasons, but I love the idea of of Pin showing Joel how to sew or just explaining the general mechanics of using the machine. Maybe some physical guidance/touching a la the pottery scene in Ghost?

If you'd prefer to play with other characters, it would be sweet to see her teach Ellie now that she's working at the shop and I imagine she'd be curious about it!

Seams sleepover micro drabble request | 900 words | warnings: rated M for dirty thoughts and slightly dirty talk, outrageous flirting, topless Joel Miller | can be read independently of the series but is part of the Seams universe

‘Nice tits, Miller!’

Joel chokes on his corn chowder as Tommy’s voice rings loud and obnoxious in the half-empty cafeteria, a mischievous glint in his eyes when he makes himself comfortable opposite him, tray hitting the table with a clatter.

‘Seriously though, put them away before Maria sees you. This is a family place, y’know.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘Shut up, jackass.’

Tommy studies the familiar green plaid shirt on his brother that is sitting open to the sternum. ‘Buttons fell off, huh?’

‘Aren’t you a regular Sherlock Holmes.’

‘Pin gettin’ a bit rough with ya?’

Joel splutters, raising his fork in what he hopes is a menacing reproach. ‘Hey!’

‘Just jokin’, big bro. And no judgement if she is.’

He scoffs. ‘This is gettin’ real weird, Tommy -’

‘Why don’t you ask her to sew ’em back for you?’

‘She ain’t my seamstress.’

‘She’s a seamstress. And your girlfriend.’

Joel snorts. ‘You ask Maria to do all your chores for you?’

Tommy shrugs and replies around a mouthful of mashed potato. ‘Ask Pin to teach you then. What's that they say about fishermen and fishin’?’

He has a point, Joel has to concede. That’s how he ends up at your studio that afternoon, leaning against the doorframe as he watches you on the sewing machine. He likes the steady, mechanical staccato of the needle, the whirring wheel and the metallic squeak of the pedal as your hands and feet all move in almost nonchalant choreography.

He knows that under that ease lies years of experience, and there’s an understatedness about your movements that makes him stop and stare every time you're at the antique sewing machine.

He waits patiently for a lull, not wanting to disrupt your rhythm. When you pause to inspect the stitching you’ve been working on, Joel knocks on the doorframe.

His lips twitch when you startle, eyes wide as your head whips around at him, and it brings him right back to the day you meet, just a few feet from where he stands now.

But then you break into a wide smile. ‘What are you doing sneaking up on me, Joel Miller?’

He closes the distance with three steps, bending down to drop a kiss on your lips. ‘Just wanted to say hello - and to ask for a favour.’

You stare up at him, admiring the way a stray lock curls over his eyes. ‘What is it?’

Joel tugs on the front of his shirt. ‘Was wonderin’ if you can teach me how to sew my buttons back on.’

You eye his neckline, which is suspiciously low. ‘I thought you were just trying something new,’ you quip.

Arching an eyebrow, he asks, ‘Is it workin’ for you, sweetheart?’

Hooking your finger into the open V of the shirt, you grin. ‘I’m not complaining, but it doesn’t hurt to fix it. Take it off.’

Joel huffs, joking, ‘Buy me dinner first, at least?’

You watch his fingers push the little buttons out of the holes, baring broad chest and freckles with every downward inch. You hum when he gets to the bottom of the shirt and it hangs open, nothing but bare skin under it. ‘No undervest?’

‘Feel like showin’ off today,’ he winks and disrobes with a smooth roll of his shoulders.

You can’t help it, your breath catches - at the strong shoulders, the soft belly, the way he has one hand on his hip - and by the self-satisfied curl of his lips, you know he knows.

Clearing your throat, you stand and take his shirt from his grasp, the warmth of the fabric comforting in your hands. ‘Come sit over here.’

‘We’re not using the machine?’

‘Not for sewing buttons,’ you reply, opening a little box to find matching ones for his shirt.

‘Okay, step one,’ you seat yourself next to him and hand him the supplies. ‘Thread the needle.’

The thread looks more like a blade of the most delicate hair in between his thumb and index finger, and the needle comically small. But his hands are remarkably steady, and he surprises you by nimbly pushing the thread through the eye on his second try.

‘Pull the thread through and keep going,’ you instruct, snipping it off with scissors when you’re satisfied with the length. ‘Now, we need to knot the end. Loop the thread around your finger a couple of times, pinch it with your thumb and pull the end through.’

He does so with aplomb, and you remark, more to yourself than anything. ‘Your fingers are really dexterous for their size.’

Joel wriggles his eyebrows suggestively, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘You should know that first hand, hmm?’

A comment like that would’ve had you ducking your head a few months ago. But now, you narrow your eyes at him in playful admonishment. ‘So full of yourself, Joel Miller.’

Dragging your chair towards him, he leans in and murmurs against your ear. ‘Ain’t you the one who was full of me last night -’

Heat rushes to your cheek as he noses the sensitive skin behind your ear. ‘Joel, I thought you wanted to fix your shirt -’

Pushing the needle into a pin cushion, he shrugs and pulls you into his lap with a smirk, his skin hot under your touch.

‘Luckily, I don’t really need a shirt for what I want to do right now, sweetheart.’

More notes: Thank you for this adorable prompt @toomanytookas! I hope you don't mind that I tweaked it a little bit. I love that you have such beautiful memories with your grandma. Mine used to sew and do cross-stitch, I miss her so much 🥹

#fuckyeahseams #seams sleepover #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller imagine

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haveyouanytime · 4 months

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hi omg, i've been scowering for some good smut w daryl, like something straight up dirty and messy!! if you could write something like that (anything your heart desires, tbh)!!

daryl dixon smut | minors + ageless blogs dni! cw: fellatio, one mention of gagging, hair-pulling (m+f) bit of manhandling (f), penetrative sex, smallest bit of plot

guess who's back after 1 month gone lol !! this definitely could've been dirtier and messier so sorry if i disappointed anon (ノ_<。)

౨ৎ daily click to help palestine 🍉

It all started with you wanting to be a good girlfriend. Daryl always seemed tired after being out hunting or searching for supplies all day, so you joined him instead of staying back at the prison and doing menial tasks to pass the time. It was supposed to be cute-- him teaching you to hunt, maybe finding a new grocery store to scrounge through for foods and supplies, just some alone time with your boyfriend. Instead, a large group of walkers took your time, forcing Daryl to tug you into a car and lock the doors to wait out the mob of groaning cadavers.

“Well, at least it’s alone time, right?” You smiled, trying to ease Daryl’s sour mood as you two sat in the backseat of the car. You sat perpendicular to him, your legs stretched over his lap with your back against the locked door of the car, your fingertips brushing against the exposed muscles of his bicep. His hand rested over one of your knees, his crossbow sitting in the driver’s seat along with his bag, yours sitting in the passenger’s seat to give you two more space in the back.

“Guess so.” He grunted, his thumb brushing over the skin of your knees. His other held onto your calf, his eyes trying not to wander up and down your legs as you wore the shorts he secretly loved.

You scooted closer to him, snaking your arms around his neck to lean in and kiss his cheek, “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?”

He scoffed, his gaze turning away from you. His dark hair covered his eyes a bit, and he tried to hide how your soft lips against his skin made his fair skin turn a bit warm. “As much as you say it, girl, I still don’t believe you.”

“I mean it, Daryl.” You huffed, pushing his hair away out of his eyes and tucking the strands behind his ear to place soft kisses along his jawline, “You’re so handsome. Inside and out. And you do so much for me, and everybody. It’s just a shame no one says thank you.”

He just grunts, his thumb still brushing along the soft skin on your knee.

Your voice fell to a whisper as you placed another kiss on his jawline. “Maybe I can thank you properly.” Your words caught his attention, making his pale blue eyes land on you as his thumb stopped its movement.

“Whatcha talkin’ about?” He raised his brow, his hold tightening slightly on your knee. You were familiar with the tone of his voice, it meant no more teasing unless you wanted to be given funny looks by your cell block neighbors the next morning. But you didn’t plan on teasing, but rather taking advantage of the scenario and the lack of neighbors (since the walkers some feet away didn’t count).

You smiled, craning your head to kiss along the slope of his neck as you murmured against his skin, “Just let me thank you.” Your hand that was perched on his shoulder began to slowly slide down, taking your time to brush past the low collar of his sleeveless button-down, pushing aside his leather vest to reach his belt buckle as you nipped at his skin. Just as you palmed him through the rough denim of his brown pants, you could hear his raspy groan, making butterflies manifest in your stomach and between your legs.

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, your voice a hushed whisper as you left warm kisses on his stubbled jawline. He groaned again, and at his lack of response, you began to pull your hand away from his growing bulge-- just for his larger hand to push it back down. “I ain’t say to stop.” He grunted, and you could feel his member hardening underneath the denim. You smiled, unable to stop yourself from letting out a giggle at his demeanor.

“Such a man of few words.” You smile, readjusting yourself to kneel beside him on the leather seat. Both of your hands moved to the waistband of his pants, undoing the button and pushing down the zipper to reveal the elastic band of his briefs. He lifts his hips slightly, helping you shuffle his worn jeans down to his knees. He pulled his shirt up halfway to his stomach, revealing his hard cock that twitched just from being revealed to you.

You lowered your head, swiftly taking his heavy length between your lips. You could hear him groan from above you, encouraging you to swirl your tongue around the tip while your hands rested on his thighs for balance. You moved to take more of his length into your mouth, hearing his quiet grunts and groans grow slightly as lewd noises filled the small space of the car. His hand holds the back of your head, tangling in your hair as your head bobs up and down.

Unable to control himself, he pushed your head down slightly. The sounds of your gag reached his ears, making his head fall back against the car seat’s headrest. He lets go of your head after a few seconds, making you pull your head back to gasp for air. The sight of your glistening lips and dilated pupils drowning out the color of your eyes made him feel more impatient for the feeling of you around him.

“C’mon.” He grunts, his hands moving to the waistband of your shorts. Before you even realized it, he pushed them down your legs, tossing them aside before he grabbed you by your waist to move you atop his lap. You can only squeal as he does, your hands moving atop his shoulders to catch your balance as your calves press into the leather of the car seat.

You bit your lip as you smiled, reaching your hand down to grab his member, aligning it with your entrance. You slowly sunk down, making both yours and Daryl’s jaws fall slack as sinful sighs escape. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning in to connect your lips in a sloppy kiss as you began to rock your hips back and forth.

He hissed against your lips, his hand moving to grab your jaw to push your head back as his other arm wrapped around your waist. You moaned as your head fell back, his lips moving in to kiss and leave marks along your neck. You mewled at the feeling of his scruff and warm lips against your skin, your hands moving to tug lightly at his grown-out, dark locks.

He groaned at the feeling of his hair being tugged, his own hand moving to tug at your own roots, making you whimper loudly. Your hips slowed at the overwhelming feeling of being marked along your neck and your hair being tugged, much to the dismay of your boyfriend.

His hands moved to dig into the plush of your hips, guiding you up and down his length. You moaned loudly, your eyes scrunching closed as the warm pleasure manifesting in your abdomen grew as your boyfriend manhandled you like a doll.

“Daryl-- I’m gonna--!” You moaned, your nails digging into the fabric on his shoulder as you clenched around him. He hissed at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, continuing to move you atop his lap to guide you closer to your orgasm as well as feeling his own begin to manifest in his lower stomach.

Your noises grew louder in the car as you moved towards your finishing point, not caring how the windows fogged or the air grew humid. You held onto his shoulders, your head falling back as you let out a loud cry, feeling yourself come undone around Daryl.

He followed soon after, pulling you close to finish deep inside you with a groan into the crook of your neck. You two panted, holding each other close as you came down from your respective but similar highs. You smiled, leaning in and placing one last kiss onto Daryl’s lips.

“Was that a good enough ‘thank you’?” You grinned, your teasing tone making him smirk.

He laughed, an airy noise that was more like a scoff, playfully squeezing the plush of your hips, “More than good enough.”

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