#yall are all open to thread with him;

[widevibratobitch]

the side effects of experiencing all this funeral stuff from this up close is honestly that im just starting to plan my own funeral in my head to entertain myself and it also kinda stopped me from being suicidal because i realised no one but me could do it right

[patchiko]

Imagine Ak Jason that's been with his s/o for a long while and they're comfortable having sex and all and he makes them squirt. How's the man reacting? I gotta know!

I GOTCHU ANON I GOT YOUUUUUUUUUU🫡🫡

Ak!Jason Todd n’ Squirting ((NSFW, EXPLICIT/DETAILED))

reader has coochie but no gender terms used :p

unless doll is gendered to you

‘tis under the cut >:]

TOTALLY AN EGO BOOSTER 4 HIM !!

He likes knowing he’s fucking you good and how good hes doing so🤤🤤

and he totally didn’t google “how to squirt” to get this to happen

IM LAUGHISNF SO HARD—

—LISTEN HE KNOWS THERES GOTTA BE SOME SCIENCE BEHIND IT.

he skimmed like the first page of articles (he read every fuckin link.) before clicking off bc he felt kinda cringe and acted like nothing happened

HE DEF GOT ALL THAT SHIT MEMORIZED THOUGH.

but he’s also smart enough to that majority of it is communication and it doesn’t mean hes doing bad if you cant squirt

but he really wanted to make you squirt. *picture cut to him grabbing his chest while curled up in a ball on the floor*

JASON’S body was pressed onto yours almost fully, grinding his dick into your pussy. The wet coarse noises of your twos hips pressing into each other, and the lewd noises leaving your mouth filled the room. One of his hands intertwined with your own, the other rubbing at your clit. He placed a pillow under your ass so he could push your cock at all the right places. His pelvis grinding into your pussy, dick angled at your g-spot cushioning out your steady moans. Jasons face was buried between your neck softly breathing as he used his whole body to rhythmically pace himself against you. Taking in all of you, your soft sticky skin pressed against his own, every inhale and exhale of your chest, the way your hips randomly bucked up as he pushed against you. Those moans. He closed his eyes, letting his body passionately feel you out, running orgasm after orgasm out of you. You’re breathing sharpened and you threw your head back. You start grinding your wet pussy into him, letting your other hand trail up to his hair softly kneading his black hair locs. He involuntarily let off a deep “mmh…” He sped up his movements, rutting his hips a bit faster then yours. Jason just barely pulled out and pushed in, his cock still at your g-spot before grinding back down on your wet cunt. Stuttering your breaths, you let out a soft”Fuck,,, fuck,,, fuck….” before being able to whine out how you wanted his hand, playing with your clit to move faster. He started rubbing fast circular motions across your cunt, obscene noises of your soaking cunt got louder. He started pumping his cock against your g-spot, letting go of your hand to prop your legs up for him before intertwining your fingers once more. He pulled his face from your neck to watch your cunt come undone, letting out heavy breaths along your chest. Your mind had started going foggy, only being able to feel his body against yours and the sticky sensation between your legs, you inhaled and before a sudden hit of tranquil hit your body. Exhaling, your hips relaxing as you felt the heat of a intense orgasm hit you. Jason watched as squirts of hot liquid sloppily bounced against his happy trail. He had no problem physically staying quiet but mentally he was holding on by a thread. Continuously fucking you through your pleasure, before slowing down and looking back up at your relaxed body.

“You got another one of those in you doll?” he said through hot breaths peering up at you with those big pretty blown out blue eyes.

oh yeah, that egos peaking tonight.

This was fun writign hejshehhdhehee

COULDNT HELP MYSELF I KNOW HES GOOGLED IT BEFORE!! I KNOW ITTT!! *IM BEING DRAGGED OUT OF THE ROOM WHILE YELLING*

ILL DIE ON THIS HILL JASON WOULDNT BE DIRTY TALKER TILL LATER IN THE RELATIONSHIP!! (m gonna make a list of shit he’d say dw yall dw..)

he so proud of himself though

inbox is open if yall want more !!

[ardensregias]

the best relief.

nsfw (*´꒳`*) afab!reader. model!yingxing x bodyguard!reader. dumbification. fingering. you call him "sir"—reader is very polite lol. reader wears makeup. edging. mirror sex. overstimulation. breeding. petnames used: darling, sweetheart. praises!!! :D forced eye contact 😵‍💫 he's a bit of a meanie but he's very in love w you hehe :33

it doesn't look good to me... hope yall like it though (_ _).｡o○ please have this to make up for the boothill smut i couldn't make a part two of 😔

the soft clinking of yingxing's extravagant accessories cuts through the silence of the night, accompanied by the sound of your angelic voice moaning his name as if he was your god as he plunged another rough finger into your drooling hole—practically begging him for more, hungrily swallowing his digits that he thinks they'll snap if you were to clamp down any harder.

"so needy f'me, aren't you?" a throaty growl escapes his chest, tinged with desire as the model leans down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss, muffling your voice as he frenziedly pushes you up against the sink, positioning your legs in between his to keep you from squirming away.

yingxing swears he was never the type to do something like this to relieve his stress, as he knows the potential risks of it turning into a cosmos-wide scandals that will end up ruining everything he's worked hard to achieve—on the other hand, he simply doesn't have the ability to reject you when you were the one who voluntarily offered yourself to him, whispering in his ear about how you'd help him out in any way he wanted—so here you are; your clothes in disarray and a clear thread of saliva trickling down your chin, a testament of the supermodel's ability to make an absolute mess out of you, his precious soon-to-be girlfriend bodyguard.

you've always been a great bodyguard for him—a kindhearted and caring individual who takes good care of him while also being a bold and tenacious guardian whenever the pesky paparazzis are getting out of hand with their disturbances; which makes it even more enjoyable to break you into putty in his hands—and just to remind you, he hasn't even gotten to the fun part yet.

your hand flew over your mouth, trying so hard to muffle the sinful noises that escaped your pretty lips; fearing that yingxing's manager or that mysterious vidyadhara friend of his would barge into his house and caught you in the act. seeing this, his frown deepens, his hand swatting yours as he sinks his fingers deeper into your drenched hole, creating a series of loud sloshing noise that only serves to mortify you further at how dirty they sound.

"don't, i want to hear how good i made you feel," he whispered right beside your neck, tickling the sensitive skin on purpose.

you shake your head, unable to answer him properly without stuttering and making every words sound like a moan, "sir, what if—ah!" and with a simply curl of his fingers in the right direction, your complaints are silenced and replaced with high pitched cries—oh boy, at this rate, his tailored pants might just burst open with the way his bulge keeps growing bigger when he himself thought it couldn't anymore, all thanks to your beautiful voice.

"focus on me, don't think of anyone else," from the growl he struggled to suppress and the way he use his other hand to pinch your bud, you can tell that he's not very fond of the mentions of others during times like these—and you can't help your walls from twitching again at his demanding words, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach, tightening further at his precise movements. more incoherent words left your throat, and he smirks in acknowledgment of your nearing climax, drawing his fingers out just right before you can experience that oh-so-blissful feeling of relief.

a soft, frustrated whine left your throat as you clench around nothing, your lips curling downwards in disappointment as you look at him, "sir, why did you stop...?"

he doesn't respond, his attention completely directed at the crystal-clear substance coating his glove—a clear evidence of the euphoric experience he puts you through. aren't you just so adorable? getting so excited just by his fingers alone?

"eager, aren't we?" he sneers, pressing your bottom lip to make way for his soiled fingers, giving you a taste of yourself and oh aeons, why do you have to be so cute? eyes wide with tears and drool dripping down your chin as you lap the remaining of your own juices off the fabric, making his cock twitch yet again.

he's not gonna hold back anymore, he thinks—no, he simply cannot—hastily unbuckling his belt and pulling down his trousers, he sighs in relief when his erection is finally freed, the blunt head already leaking precum—a shiver ran down your spine, words catching in your throat at the length and girth; will it even fit?

yingxing smiles at the terrified look on your face, inching closer to playfully slap your folds with his tip, earning another whimper from you, "aww, are you scared, sweetheart?"

"no... i-it's fine, i can take it, sir," you slowly shake your head, still trying to look brave—the slight waver in your voice did not go past his ears though; it boosted his ego, actually.

the man snickered, gaze locking with yours, slowly guiding himself into the warm embrace of your walls, "we'll see about that,"

he sighs in pleasure as he watches your cunt eagerly swallows and clench around his length, as if trying to pull him in—so he reciprocates; jerking his hips to meet your pelvis in a slow and steady motion—your comfort and pleasure comes first, even if he is the one who needs this. still, you cannot help but roll your eyes whenever he reach deep enough to press against your sensitive spots, like he's done this millions of times before.

when he heard your moans getting louder, the man starts to pick up his pace, moving rougher and more demanding as his arms reach for your waist, pulling you down and bending you over so you can face the mirror; watching him pour out all his stress into your abused cunt and the way your body is arching against the sink—a sight so lewd that you want to look away from it, but no, he won't allow it; he wants you to see just how good he's making you feel—and he savors every moment of it, carving the memories of this obscene scene into his brain.

"sir—!" a tiny mewl left your lips when he pulls back, leaving only his tip inside, before slamming his hips back into yours, leaving not a single nook or cranny untouched—the intensity is enough to knock every single thought out of your pretty head. it feels too good, and before you could control yourself, your body lurched forward as you come undone on his cock, delicate fingers curling tightly onto the faucet as your poor body convulses in pleasure.

to stimulate you further, yingxing reach down to rub circles and patterns on your fluttering petals, "good girl—fuck, loosen up, will you? i won't be able to reward you if you don't let go of my cock," his voice is saccharine sweet, like a honeyed poison—so sweet yet so full of mirth, and you can't help but crave it more.

your gummy walls throb around him, trying so hard to not draw him in as he slowly drags his length across your overstimulated walls; yet you can't help yourself to not marvel at the sight of his silver hair cascading over your lower back, his eyes fluttering at how good it feels to nestle inside you—all reflected on the glass mirror for you to see.

but you were not able to gawk at him for long, for the haughty model always sought to catch you off guard—his hands squeezing the fat of your hips to ram his cock back inside, thrusting and rolling himself faster and harder than before, so much that you can hear the thwop thwop thwop sound, along with your soft wails harmonizing with his low grunts bouncing off the ceramic walls; you can only hope that his neighbors would not be suspicious of this totally-professional-relationship of yours.

as for the model himself, he couldn't care less, the only thing occupying his mind is that he has to lay his claim on you; to leave so many traces of his love on you that they will never fade no matter how many lives you have to go through—so he may always find you in every lifetime.

"keep your eyes on the mirror, darling," he clenches his jaw, guiding your chin up to face the fogged surface of the glass—yet it still cannot obstruct the sight of your lovely face; adorned with dark tears as a result of your smudged mascara, cheeks all warm and flushed, and trails of spit running down your chin. gosh, you really are the most gorgeous angel in this wretched world when you're fucked dumb on his dick.

"sir, i can't—"

"yes you can, and call me yingxing, please?" he coos, warm tongue prodding at your earlobe to coax you into obedience—not like he has to anyway.

"y-yingxing—ngh—yingxing yingxing! please, i'm—ah!" because his name immediately leaves your agape mouth like a mantra, along with unidentified words that got lost in between mewls and screams of pleasure; and that's all it takes for the course of pleasure to run down his body, eyes tightly shut as he releases rope after rope into your womb, pressing himself directly on that one delicate, spongy spot inside your pulsating warmth—which then leads to your second orgasm, the waves of pleasure coursing down your spine as your body tenses up, sticky fluid gushing out and spilling down the floor with a squelch.

he stills himself, panting heavily as his broad chest press down on your back; you can feel just how heated up he has gotten, how his coat is all drenched with sweat, how his voice cracks slightly as he mutters praises under his breath, "you're taking me so well... can you feel how deep i am right now?" his hand trails up your abdomen to press on a particularly warm and slightly protruding spot in your tummy; he really did not hold back in marking you, huh?

finally, after you both have calmed down, yingxing begins to pepper kisses on your hair and cheek, slowly grinding all the cum back inside you; he despises seeing it leave you, "are you okay?"

"yes, sir..."

he frowns, thumb caressing your chin in a slow motion, "i told you to call me yingxing," your vision is blurry due to the tears bubbling up your eyes, but you swear you could hear him pout at that.

before you could answer, he flipped you over, a pair of muscular arms supporting your trembling body as he positioned you to sit back on the sink, "i guess i need to fuck you some more, don't i? that way, your pretty little brain will never forget my name again," his smile turns into a full-blown grin, eyes sharp with mischief.

seems like this stress-relieving session is going to take longer than you anticipated.

[hazelfoureyes]

Ho, ho, ho~! I hope your vibrators are fully charged, cause this one's gonna have yall going full ahegao~! If not, then you'd best get those babies plugged in before continuing. Consider this your only warning... ;D

"Oh? Have I managed to shut up the big, scary Radio Demon?" You asked, the reaction your movements pulled from Alastor going straight to your head and to your core. A smirk danced across your face as you traced the tips of your fingers from the crevice between his clavicles down his sternum to the indentation of his navel and even further south, following the tufts of hair that was the beginning of his happy trail*.

Eyes shooting open at your little taunt, Alastor raised his head to look at you sitting pretty on his cock, shadows swirling around you and the sclera of his eyes flashing black for just a moment. "Hah! Only in your dreams, my sweet..." he breathed out just before you raised your hips and slammed them back down in the next moment, voice thick with that staticky radio filter that made him stand out from the rest (among other things). He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding in the same manner as your hips on his pelvis. Closing his eyes, he took a moment to compose himself before opening them once more, his sclera having shifted back to their usual red.

"Besides, my voice is one of the things you love best about me. You would- nnghh fuck! ... You would HATE-" Alastor started, feeling a little mischievous as he planted his hooves (feet?) into the bed and delivered a solitary, brutal thrust - one hard enough to knock you forward and force your hands to either side of his head. "-If I stopped talking," he called your bluff, a soft chuckle reverberating through his chest as his other hand found your hip.

"God damn you..." you mumbled, fighting back a smile as you stared down at him. He was right. It was just one thing on a very long list, but his voice was one of your favorite things about him. Even better was the unexpected shock you received whenever he would suddenly drop the radio filter and all you heard was pure, unadulterated Alastor. As if he had been reading your mind, the deer demon pulled you from your thoughts with another thrust and a few words without his famous filter. "God has no place here. You know that," Alastor groaned as you raised your hips, deciding to give him a small taste of his own medicine. Slamming your hips down again, you smirked once more as he released a sharp gasp followed by a drawn out moan as you started to build a pace. "Oh fuuuck meee... D-darling...- nghhhaha...- please-" he moaned out as the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room once more.

Alastor raised one of his hands to rest on the back of your head, digits threading themselves through your tangled strands as he began to buck up into you - heavy balls slapping against the fat of your ass with a 'pap! pap! pap!' sound. He drew your face closer to his, pressing your foreheads together while he used you as a cocksleeve, the remnants of your previous releases creating strings connecting his thighs to your ass. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! Hoh-ooohh shiiiittt!" He moaned out in time with each thrust, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he started to lose himself once more in the way your sweet pussy clenched and pulsated around his throbbing dick.

"Hah! Hah! Fuh-... uhah!! Ala-... Al-... Hah! Ah!" You cried, nails digging into the sheets beneath his head, losing what little control you had before he started this bruising pace. "Oh fuck, ohhh fuuuckkk..." Alastor breathed out, that familiar knot in the pits of his belly tightening more and more with every slam, every thrust to your soaking cunt. "You're gonna make me-... mmpphhhoh shit! Make me cum!"

* he SO has a happy trail~ I just can't decide if it's red or black. But I KNOW he puts conditioner on it, so it's not all wiry and scratchy when you go down oh him ahaaa~ 🥴

MINK, GURL YOUR MERCY COMMENT WAS ONE OF MY BIGGEST REASONS FOR THINKING UP MORE ADDITIONS OF COURSE YOU'RE IN THE LOOP! You'll never not be in the loop my love, your reactions are pure gold and give me life~! Besides I gotta give something back, make yall feel the same way I do when I read anything you post! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

btw it's literally killing me rn that I can't interact publicly with any of yall's stuff. I wanted to wait until I was in the final stages of writing the planned fics I have for each of you, but I don't think I can hold on to my anonymity much longer! YOUR MINDS ARE JUST SO BEAUTIFUL JFC HOW DID I FIND NOT ONE BUT THREE?! AND IN THE SAME FANDOM?!?! LIKE HOW?!?!?!?!?!

Danny baby your puns have me rolling omfg 🤣 I swear I'mma think of one or bring in some outside help (dad jokes ftw!) that's gonna knock you dead holy shit- BRING IT ON HUNNY PUN. LET'S DO THIS 💖💥 ... I'll see myself out 🤣

- ☄️❤️ Smut Santa

「He drew your face closer to his, pressing your foreheads together while he used you as a cocksleeve」

あああああ

I LOVE BEING USED AS A COCKSLEEVE HOW DID YOU KNOW SMUT SANTA— SMUNTA? SMANTA. SMUT CLAUS

SAINT DICKOLAUS

Summoning @minkdelovely @sugoi-writes

Also a doe in fall part 6 also has reader riding, heavy balls, and forehead touches??? Get outta my fucking head???

(Smut Santa: @synamartia) 

[sh1-n0bu]

yall this is my first time requesting something from someone so im a bit nervous but

imagine overstimulating venti until he cries 🤭

also can i be 🌊 anon ? PLEASE tell me if anything i asked made you uncomfortable!!

♡︎ 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙚𝙢𝙤 𝙜𝙤𝙙’𝙨 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 ♡︎

characters: sub!venti x nb!dom!reader

warnings: overstimulation, size kink, dacryphillia, reader’s genitals/pronouns are never mentioned so the cock can be interpreted as a strap on

notes: of course you can be 🌊anon! and yes, i’m slowly coming back to life. man author’s block is hard to beat. also, if this get’s flagged by tumblr when i wake up tmrw, i’ll delete it and post it again so don’t get too scared if it’s suddenly gone bbies

venti, or better yet known as barbatos to his people, was never really much of an archon.

he never plays by the rules, governs over his people nor even tries to abide by celestia’s rules. often, the wind spirit simply prefers to lay back and watch as his people takes care of any problems. they’re strong after all, his children always has been. of course, the windborn bard slurs out words of being the anemo archon in his drunk dazed self but no one ever takes it seriously.

and another thing was that, venti never worships the celestia. the floating island in the sky is full of nothing but liars, manipulators and cowards. besides… why would he worship those pathetic things when you’re right here?

why kneel before them when he can kneel before you?

why worship those who spat venom everytime they open their mouth when ballads and praises, songs of life flow from yours?

why chase after meaningless praises when your words sting like the strongest alcohol, burning his throat, making his eyes water as he becomes more and more addicted to you?

that’s exactly why the anemo archon prefers to worship you instead. when you braid his hair and comb out the knots as he nuzzles against your form, dazed and sleepy.

when you’re there to console him, help him through his darkest days when those wretches of celestia has done nothing.

when you’re kissing away the tears that spill from his eyes, shushing his slurred speeches and sobs of pleasure as you continue to ram into that one spot inside him, making him shriek and spill over his stomach again and again.

the windborn bard could worship you for eternity.

spilling another load into his stomach, the god in your arms spasms and twitches as his legs weakly wrap around your waist to at least try and calm the twitching of his small body.

dear stars above, you felt so big he could almost feel your tip in his stomach in his sex drunken haze. slurred whines of what seems to be your name flowing out of his mouth as he tries to keep his last threads of sanity together but how can he do so when he can just feel your previous loads slipping out of his rim and down to the sheets.

it all felt so hot, the room was so hot, everything was spinning. the warmth of your cum seeping out of his hole, the slight bulge in his stomach, the feeling of your finger wiggling in next to his already stuffed hole and pushing the cum back inside while your cock stays in — venti lets out a weak sound.

“look at you, little bird. you’re leaking out my cum that i worked so hard to put in you. can’t have my hard work being spent, right?” you coo out teasingly, a grin bit too sadistic tugging on your lips as venti writhes under you when you add in another finger. stars above, were you trying to break him?

venti couldn’t respond. he couldn’t even fully understand and register your words. brain too fried from the previous rounds of your just absolutely handling his small body around, pinching, teasing, smacking, leaving marks and hickeys but he loved it all.

as a response, the bard only weakly bucks his hips back into your strap again seemingly wanting more. my, what an insatiable little bird.

throwing his leg over your shoulder, you take out your fingers from his hole and squeeze his tiny waist once in a warning before fucking back into him again. small whines, weak noises and slurred whorish moans spill out from under you, the anemo archon far too fucked stupid to even try to properly say your name anymore.

making a grabby motion with his hands — a silent ask to hold you close while you fuck him full of your cum again — you decide to be nice and lean down, the absolutely filthy wet noises of your cock easily entering him causing venti to dig his blunt nails into your back, pulling you closer to himself.

feeling another orgasm building up embarrassingly quickly, the archon chases after your lips with weak whines, a sob following as you deny him of a proper kiss. instead teasing him by kissing his soft cheek. he didn’t even realize he was crying.

but soon those soft and weak whimpers and slurred words turn into a sharp scream as he feels himself cumming into both of your stomachs again, a sob of your name following along as you chase your high, getting more frantic with your movements.

the archon feels himself getting filled up again when your hips stutter, causing the short man under you to whimper a quiet “[n-nameee…❤︎︎]” in your ears.

after having caught your breath, you pull away from him slightly. pushing his hair away from his face, you couldn’t help but laugh as you wipe away his tears. but that laugh is cut off short as the archon bucks his hips against yours again, a cheeky grin pulling on his lips.

[loaksky]

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake. 

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice. 

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick. 

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented. 

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you. 

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire. 

He hates it. He hates you. 

He thinks. 

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth. 

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him. 

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you. 

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone. 

Like now, you linger. 

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them. 

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over. 

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin. 

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes. 

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger. 

“We going or what?” he finally says. 

You perk up. 

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly. 

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents. 

You roll your lips and shift on your feet. 

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful. 

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours. 

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.” 

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible. 

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes. 

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up." 

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off. 

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh. 

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles. 

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers. 

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.” 

Kiri rolls her eyes hard. 

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you. 

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam. 

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand. 

“Hi,” he says flatly. 

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet. 

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare. 

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face. 

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat. 

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him. 

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows. 

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure. 

“My birthday's coming up,” you start. 

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs. 

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest. 

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you. 

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone. 

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens. 

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend. 

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back. 

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face. 

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly. 

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp. 

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice. 

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head. 

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply. 

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly. 

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off. 

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle. 

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target. 

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot. 

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile. 

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.” 

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target. 

His heart sinks. 

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two. 

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn. 

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs. 

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest. 

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path. 

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora. 

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel. 

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks. 

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!” 

His chest rises and falls with a scoff. 

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood. 

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage. 

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face. 

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly. 

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly. 

Lo’ak rolls his eyes. 

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you. 

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?” 

Friends. 

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path. 

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle. 

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother. 

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.” 

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised. 

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.” 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns. 

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates. 

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.” 

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat. 

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him. 

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up. 

You offer up the plate again. 

“Lo’ak–“ 

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed. 

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground. 

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds. 

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.” 

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering. 

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.” 

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.” 

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters. 

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.” 

“Dad!” 

“Go, Lo’ak.” 

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air. 

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology. 

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye. 

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction. 

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief. 

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat. 

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly. 

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest. 

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about. 

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile. 

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy. 

“You first,” you offer. 

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing. 

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.” 

You shake your head quickly. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him. 

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you. 

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile. 

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn. 

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam. 

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation. 

He shrugs. 

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.” 

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face. 

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?” 

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly. 

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night. 

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly. 

“I dunno, green?” he offers. 

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly. 

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head. 

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.” 

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal. 

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages. 

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up. 

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet. 

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.” 

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion. 

“What?” he asks. 

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him. 

“Nothing.” 

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session. 

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you. 

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off. 

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade. 

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended. 

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips. 

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars. 

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.” 

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night. 

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has. 

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries. 

The words are leaving him before he can stop them. 

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.” 

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him. 

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.” 

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile. 

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.” 

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue. 

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.” 

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments. 

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.” 

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.” 

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You nod, smiling at him. 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night. 

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring. 

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village. 

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed. 

Kiri shrugs. 

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.” 

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully. 

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower. 

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist. 

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat. 

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again. 

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw. 

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands. 

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff. 

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly. 

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him. 

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control. 

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard. 

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly. 

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?” 

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.” 

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–” 

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too. 

You try again anyways. 

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.” 

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek. 

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch. 

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face. 

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later. 

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore. 

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully. 

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates. 

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone. 

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles. 

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.” 

You frown. 

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud. 

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?” 

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent. 

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs. 

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further. 

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him. 

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut. 

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level. 

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle. 

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree. 

You follow after him. 

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects. 

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away. 

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.” 

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off. 

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels. 

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!” 

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you. 

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry. 

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!” 

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles. 

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper. 

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!” 

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you. 

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.” 

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat. 

You dropped your journal. 

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands. 

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet. 

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been. 

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal. 

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open. 

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch. 

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued. 

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers. 

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?” 

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides. 

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers. 

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed. 

Spider winces behind him. 

“You serious?” 

Lo’ak sighs. 

“Yes, dude, fuck,��� he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…” 

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.” 

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him. 

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.” 

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.” 

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?” 

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!” 

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation. 

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“ 

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs. 

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.” 

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps. 

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?” 

He blinks at the human. 

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.” 

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply. 

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.” 

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook. 

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly. 

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off. 

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths. 

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind. 

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis. 

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him. 

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you. 

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late. 

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver. 

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling. 

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar. 

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face. 

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them. 

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves. 

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it. 

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head. 

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him. 

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze. 

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.” 

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read. 

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand. 

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.” 

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him. 

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it. 

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping. 

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you. 

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain. 

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished. 

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind. 

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap. 

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh. 

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath. 

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know. 

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get. 

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting. 

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him. 

His chest heaves as the words blur. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

Fearless. 

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward. 

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye. 

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time. 

likes green and blue. 

likes yovo fruits. 

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest. 

When he turns the page, his breath hitches. 

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes. 

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another. 

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star. 

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like. 

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease. 

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones. 

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river. 

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide. 

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you. 

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself. 

He stands from the hammock and runs. 

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins. 

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape. 

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.” 

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him. 

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. 

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm. 

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay. 

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.” 

The tears well on their own. 

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will. 

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches. 

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.” 

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below. 

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.” 

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky. 

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.” 

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues. 

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you. 

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.” 

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!” 

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness. 

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better. 

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence. 

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat. 

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task. 

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest. 

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his. 

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze. 

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly. 

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?” 

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. 

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression. 

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?” 

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly. 

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…” 

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest. 

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.” 

Lo’ak swallows. 

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.” 

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines. 

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines. 

“Why should I help you with your mess?” 

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment. 

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd. 

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show. 

Be brave. 

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space. 

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips. 

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him. 

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again. 

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side. 

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder. 

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday. 

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you. 

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact. 

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet. 

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely. 

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right. 

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt. 

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart. 

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.” 

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve. 

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough. 

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids. 

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.” 

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push. 

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees. 

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage. 

“I’ll only be a second!” 

“Wait, Kiri!” 

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path. 

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself. 

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams. 

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls. 

“Lo’ak…” 

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes. 

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet. 

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him. 

He scratches the back of his head. 

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer. 

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads. 

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly. 

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat. 

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream. 

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.” 

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.” 

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.” 

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words. 

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.” 

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him. 

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes. 

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.” 

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek. 

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.” 

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.” 

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you. 

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?” 

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze. 

“Did you…” 

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?” 

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening. 

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately. 

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push. 

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.” 

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines. 

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.” 

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out. 

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief. 

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.” 

He lets out a shaky breath. 

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.” 

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head. 

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him. 

“Please.” 

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours. 

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.” 

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope. 

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers. 

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss. 

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you. 

To being loved by you. 

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…” 

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones. 

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.” 

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by. 

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift. 

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.” 

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you. 

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself. 

“Lo’ak, wow…” 

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.” 

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

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neng © 2023

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

[mrdixon]

55th Birthday

pairing: established daryl x f!reader

wc: 6k

warnings: 18+ content, lots of plot!!!!, reader shoots a deer, alcohol, little bit of tipsy sex, oral (male AND fem receiving), hair pulling, little talk about pregnancy, slight breeding kink…?, creampie

summary: daryls birthday celebration!!

A/N: birthday fic for daryl since its normans birthday 😋 also ive been doing a lot of established daryl x reader, lmk if yall want something different i just like the way husband/boyfriend daryl feels… probably wrote this on ovulation.

masterlist

“It's the uh sixth of January t’day,” Eugene read from his notebook.

“What!? Shit!” You ran out of the council hall, ignoring Eugene’s confused babbles.

Today was Daryl’s birthday and you completely forgot. To be fair, who was keeping track of time nowadays? Eugene was apparently. You bit your lip as you scurried back home, Daryl was out right now so you had time to collect something to give to him.

Maybe you could bake a cake? Not much to work with though… and he isn't a big fan of sweets. You walked up the porch stairs and walked into the house, kicking your shoes off haphazardly as you furrowed your brows in thought. You thought about making him some arrows, but you didn't have time to make them, nor did you have the material for them.

You walked into the kitchen, throwing open cabinets and pulling open drawers, scrambling for any sort of material you could use to make something. How old was this man turning? You wondered, pausing for a moment.

“Fifty… fifty…” you thought for a long moment, “not in his sixties for sure.” You shrugged and continued your search for materials. Judging by the years that passed he was probably in his mid fifties, the thought making you realize just how long you’ve lived in this apocalypse. You picked up some twine, closing the drawer and running up the stairs. It wouldn't be much but you decided to thread some of your ribbon and twine together as a little charm for his crossbow.

Daryl knew how much you loved your little miscellaneous rubbish, despite his complaints of finding buttons scattered around the house. He brought you back a little wooden box just for your stuff, it would convenience both of you. The box stood atop your nightstand, you flipped it open and plucked out a light pink ribbon, it was one you threaded into your hair occasionally. Daryl always commented on it so you figured maybe he’d appreciate it if he had something of you with him all the time.

You plopped down onto the bed and made a little pattern with the twine and ribbon, intertwining them together into a little bow at the end. He could honestly wear it as a bracelet if he really wanted to, but the thought of having a slightly feminine object amongst his manly crossbow was kinda cute.

You tucked the charm into the pocket of your jeans, grabbing your holster that was also on your nightstand and securing it around your waist. Your gun was placed in there along with your hunting knife that was gifted to you by Daryl himself. You made sure you were fit to go hunting before leaving the house, the only thing you had to do was find your husband now.

You hastily walked down the street towards the front gates where Rosita was keeping watch.

“Rosi!” You called out and ran the rest of the way, she turned and smiled at you, furrowing her brows in curiosity.

“Hey you, whatcha’ need?” She brushed off your shoulder, you just sighed and placed your hands on your hips.

“I need to find Daryl, it's his birthday. He come in yet?” You sighed, fumbling with your fingers.

“No shit?” She asked surprised to which you nodded, “nah he hasn't come in yet. Probably still around the usual hunting grounds.”

“I'm gonna go track him down then,” you muttered and clutched onto the handle of your hunter's knife. Rosita chuckled and moved to open the gate for you.

“Yeah you go do that, be safe.” You nodded halfheartedly and quickly walked out of the gates and towards the forest.

It was surprisingly clear today, you haven't seen any walkers yet. The sun was bright and the atmosphere was just generally, calm. It was a perfect day for Daryl's birthday. You found the markers that stated the hunting grounds and decided on tracking Daryl. He's taught you many of his hunting tactics so why not put them to good use?

This quickly turned out to be useless as Daryl was really cautious out in the woods, and he tended to take careful steps. Meaning, no tracks to track. You groaned as you stalked further into the forest with no hope of finding your husband… until.

Rabbit tracks. Knowing him, Daryl would be following after the rascal. So if you couldn't track his tracks, you’d track the rabbit’s. You kept your hunter’s knife in your hand to be wary of your surroundings, it was way too peaceful to be true. The rabbit had travelled far as you kept walking, and walking… and walking. Eventually you reached a clearing, and the rabbit’s tracks had stopped.

You groaned. You were hopeless. Of course you could always wait for Daryl to just come home, but you wanted to do something for once. Plus if you really did track him down, he'd for sure be proud. And you loved when he was proud of you. You thought about different ways to find him, but there was really nothing to do. He could’ve gone any which way out here, and with no other tracks to look at, it was a lost cause. That was what you thought until you heard the sound of what you believed were your husband's arrows being shot.

You quickly made your way towards the sound, making sure to stay hidden from his sight. After all this was supposed to be a surprise. The more you walked through the bushes, the more you could hear the faint sound of his footsteps. You peeked through the leaves of a bush and saw your husband looking around, he heard something, probably you. You ducked when his body turned in your direction, slowly standing up to see him facing the other before carrying on his journey.

You smirked, you felt like a spy dodging his glances and switching from tree to tree. You kept your distance to not get caught, staring at him from afar as he walked around looking for whatever animal he could get his hands on. The sun shone on his hair, highlighting the little specks of blond scattered amongst his brown locks. Those angel wings that hung from his broad shoulders surely displayed his character. Your eyes travelled down his arms, annoyingly covered by his shirt sleeves. His right hand held his crossbow idly by his side, the other holding that rabbit and his backpack. Daryl was beautiful, he didn't think so but you always reminded him.

You started to get closer to him, close enough to hear him grunt to himself as he sat on a log. You started to get closer from behind, holding your hands out to prepare covering his eyes. He placed his stuff down next to him and looked down at the rabbit in his hand, though not doing anything. Like he was expecting something.

You quickly covered his eyes, not feeling him flinch a bit.

“Guess who?” You taunted playfully, standing right behind him. You heard him snort, his shoulders shaking.

“If I didn’ know it was you, ya would've been shot dead a while ago.” He shook his head chuckling as you removed your hands from his eyes and moved around the log to stand in front of him, your hands on your hips.

“Jeez, you couldn't humour me just a little bit?” You frowned at his smug expression, he was playing around with the rabbit in his hands.

“Nah, ya gotta work on yer tracking. Could hear ya from a mile away,” he snorted seeing your annoyed expression while simultaneously looking you up and down. “Is tha’ my shirt yer wearin’?” You looked down at the shirt you were wearing, noticing how much looser it was on you.

“Yeah, I guess it is, why?” You asked while plucking a pine needle off of the fabric.

“Ya didn’ have any other shirt ta wear?” He furrowed his brows before stuffing the rabbit in his bag, his head tilting back to look up at you.

“I just grabbed a random shirt from my dresser, why? Would you rather I not wear anything?” You crossed your arms and watched as he looked you up and down again, saying nothing but raising his brows. You rolled your eyes, “don't answer that.”

“I ain’ sayin’ anythin’.” He raised both hands up defensively before patting down the spot next to him. You grumbled but sat next to him, sighing as you relaxed and lay your head on his shoulder. He hummed in acceptance, placing his hand on your knee. “So why’re ya ‘ere?”

You sat back up, you almost forgot the reason why you were out here.

“Right, shit.” You fished out the handmade charm from your pocket, holding it out in front of him. He chuckled, taking it from your fingers and taking a closer look at it.

“’s cute, this fer me?” You nodded in response and his lip curled into a smirk, “this tha’ ribbon ya put in yer hair?” You nodded again as he pointed to the pink ribbon amongst the twine.

“Thought it'd be cute if you had a little something of me near you when you're out, you can tie it to your crossbow.” You murmured shyly, feeling like a schoolgirl giving her crush valentines chocolate.

“I love it,” he smiled genuinely before grabbing his crossbow and putting it between his legs so he could tie it to the handle. “Perfect, but why the sudden gift? Ya dyin’ or somethin’?”

You chuckled, “well…” He sat up straight and shot you a concerned glance. “No, I’m not. I’m giving it to you cause it's your birthday.”

His concern flushed away with a look of confusion, his hand coming up to rub his chin.

“My birthday? How do ya even know?” He narrowed his eyes questioningly.

“Eugene.”

“Ah…”

He nodded, looking back down at the charm before looking back at you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you close, kissing your forehead.

“Well thank you, I ‘preciate it.” He rested his chin on the top of your head, stroking your hair. “My birthday, haven' had one in a while.. damn, ‘m fuckin’ old aren’ I?”

You snorted, moving out of his grasp to look up at him. “You're not that old,” he gave you a ‘yeah right’ kind of look. “No really! You look quite young for your age.”

“Sure thing, ya just like butterin’ up yer husband.” He sneered playfully, you punched his chest in turn while chuckling.

“We’re both getting old hun,” you sighed contently and leaned against his body, feeling him let out a tiny sigh of his own.

“Mhm, yer still hot as hell though.” You laughed, covering your face while you felt his body shake in silent laughter. “’m not lyin’.”

“I know you aren't,” you chuckled and sat up straight. “Okay but… you have to admit, I did somewhat a good job on tracking you.”

Daryl snorted and raised his brows at you, but immediately stifled his chuckle when you frowned.

“Okay, okay sure. Ya did do a good job, ‘sides scarin’ my deer away with yer big ass footsteps.” You groaned at his feedback, kicking his ankle gently. You looked away from him and felt a gentle kiss on the back of your head, his warm breath on your neck. “Nah seriously, ya did a good job locatin’ me.”

“Really?” You turned around to face him quickly, “mean it?” He chuckled as you beamed at him, nodding.

“Yes really, now ya wanna help me find that deer so we can all eat t’night?” He nudged you on your lower back, his fingertips grazing your ass. You glanced at him, noticing a cheeky grin before standing up.

“Sure, why not? Maybe you could help me track better,” you dusted off your backside and took out your hunter's knife. He stood up with a grunt, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his crossbow before leading the way.

“It went off in this direction, couldn’ ‘ave gone far.” He murmured lowly as he pointed towards the direction where the river was. You nodded and followed close behind him, wincing as you stepped on a few twigs. Daryl turned and smirked slightly, “alrigh’. Watch where ya step, find soft ground an’ take ligh’ footsteps.”

“I think that’s obvious,” you muttered and heard him snort, taking your hand in his.

“Look,” he pointed to a leaf on the ground with his crossbow. “Tha’s gonna crunch when ya step on it,” he looked at you to see if you were listening before continuing his tangent, “ya can tell if a leaf is crunchy if ‘s browned on the tips and edges. When the colour of the leaf is dull or muddy, it’ll be soft. So ya can step on it but ya have ta be careful ‘cause sometimes tha’s just the colour of the leaf.”

“Then what about twigs?” You squeezed his hand and swung his arm with yours back and forth while you two walked.

“Well those are gonna snap if ya step on ‘em obviously,” he rolled his eyes matter-of-factly. “Jus’ watch yer step, eventually you’ll be good enough at watching yer step tha’ it’ll just be second nature ta ya. Which is why I dun’ have to look down every time I take a step.” He nudged you playfully, watching as you bowed your head and took various lengths of steps.

Daryl chuckled softly, releasing his grip on your hand to grab your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Dun’ keep lookin’ at the ground though, ya keep doin’ tha’ an’ you’ll lose yer prey. Or worse, you’ll run into a walker wit’ yer head down.” You scoffed and shook your head, grabbing his hand again while he continued to walk ahead.

You occasionally glanced down at your feet, but kept looking ahead to watch your surroundings. Eventually, you found some deer tracks and elbowed Daryl.

“Deer tracks,” you pointed with your knife. He hummed in approval and let go of your hand to fully grasp his crossbow, turning his head over his shoulder and nodded as a signal for you to keep following him. You pressed your lips into a thin line and proceeded to follow the archer, making sure to take lighter steps.

The deer quickly came into view, unknowingly chewing on some not so crunchy leaves. Daryl raised a finger to keep you still and quiet, before beckoning you with that same finger. You quietly moved next to him, the two of you crouching behind a tree. His blue eyes met yours, holding his hand out for yours. You gave him your hand and he flipped it over so your palm was to the sky, and then he placed the handle of his crossbow in your hand. Your eyes quickly widened and you shook your head.

“No, Dar! I can’t shoot this thing!” You hissed quietly, seeing his expression shift into an amused one.

“Yeah ya can, dun’ worry. I’ll help ya,” he took your other hand and guided it to the foregrip before grabbing your waist and maneuvering you in front of him. He kept his body pressed against your back, his hands on yours and mimicked your placement. Your breath hitched as he moved his head to rest over your shoulder, his lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Now aim fer the deer.”

His whisper sent a wave of heat through you, closing your eyes to calm yourself before opening them again and following his instruction. Gripping onto the foregrip, your raised the cross bow slightly and aim towards the deer, hearing a low whistle of approval.

“Good, now can ya take a shot at it?” His warm breath hit your ear again and you nodded, his pointer finger over yours as you started to slowly pull the trigger.

THWACK

You flinched and widened your eyes to see the deer on its side, an arrow sticking out of it. Daryl chuckled and let go of you, patting your waist.

“Good girl.” The nickname made you shiver a little, hoping he didn’t notice. “See, I told ya you could do it.” He took the crossbow from you and slung it over his shoulder before walking over to the deer. You walked proudly after him, watching crouch next to the deer and finishing it off with his knife.

“I may have lost your deer earlier but I shot it,” you grinned as you placed your hands on your hips. He chuckled and stood up, kissing your forehead.

“Tha’, you did. Now carry my bag so I can lug this home,” you smiled to yourself and took his bag, slinging it over both your shoulders as he threw the deer over his shoulders. Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at him, wishing you were the deer right now.

“Well now we’ll have something to eat for your birthday dinner, isn’t that right?” You chuckled as you both started walking back to Alexandria.

“Yer gonna cook me somethin’?” He raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Ya already made me tha’ charm.”

“Of course I’m gonna cook you dinner, hell it’s your birthday. You deserve more than that flimsy ol’ thing,” you snorted while adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Ya dun’ ‘ave ta,” he grunted. “Ya could just gimme a kiss an’ I’ll be okay wit’ tha’.” You laughed at his comment, shaking your head.

“But I want to,” he couldn’t argue with that logic. Instead he just sighed and nodded his head, the two of you continuing to walk in silence.

Daryl was in the shower while you pranced around the kitchen searing the share of deer you were given, making some venison steak for dinner. The smell of rosemary and lemon filled your nostrils as you stirred some mashed potatoes in another pot, the hiss of the meat cooking on the pan was delectable. You hummed while throwing some peas into the pot of mashed potatoes, along with some butter and salt before stirring it once more and turning off the stove. You checked on the venison which looked perfectly cooked, tasting a bit of the sauce left over and decided it was perfect.

“Really outdid myself tonight,” you hummed and turned off the stove completely before setting up some plates on the dinner table. You precisely plated the steaks on the plate, scooping the mashed potatoes intricately before drizzling some canned cranberry sauce over it. You smiled proudly and poured some red wine into some glasses before lighting up a few candles. After accessing your work you quickly ran upstairs to change into a little cocktail dress, still wanted to impress your husband after all. Speaking of, you could hear Daryl fix up in the bathroom so you hurried on. You fixed up your hair in the mirror and took one last glance over your body before running back downstairs, taking your seat at the table.

You waited patiently, letting him take his time to fix up. He wasn’t going to expect all of this, the dimmed lights and candlelit dinner, but you were ready to see his expression.

Daryl came down the stairs, his hair slightly damp and over his eyes. Your eyes trailed down his neck towards his button-up, which had a few buttons undone already, and he was wearing his usual pants. His head perked up at the smell of the delicious food, brushing his hair out of his eyes and taking in the sight before him.

You grinned cheekily as he stood there, mouth agape in shock. Catching himself, he smirked slight at you and brought his hand over his mouth, his eyes glazing over your legs.

“Thought you were jus’ makin’ me dinner,” he drawled lowly. “Didn’ expect a whole feast,” he gestured towards you. You laughed as he took his seat, his eyes still on you.

“Shut up, try your food.” You giggled as you pulled your chair in and cut at your steak, letting your eyes dart up to see what he thought. He looked down at his plate and picked up his knife and fork and cut into his, dipping a slice into the mashed potatoes to get a taste of everything before shoving it into his mouth. He groaned and leaned back in his chair as he continued chewing.

“Jesus christ, (Y/N)…” You giggled and took a bite yourself, groaning as well while leaning back.

“Damn, I’m good.” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your wine, Daryl sitting up to do the same. He swirled his wine a couple times in the glass before taking a good chug and swallowing the liquid.

“Mmh, yeah ya are.” He grunted and continued to eat his food. You smiled lovingly at him, his gaze drifted back up to yours. He chewed his food and smiled back at you, just as loving. “Ya look beautiful.”

“You do too,” you grinned and earned a snort of disbelief from him. “You are!” You giggled, causing his stomach to swarm with butterflies, the sound of your laughter bringing joy to him.

The dinner consisted of you two talking and giggling about old memories, sipping wine and sharing longing glances across the table. Eventually you both finished your dinner but remained sitting at the table and drinking your wine.

“Do you remember when I fell off the back of your motorcycle and you refused to take me anywhere for two weeks?” You giggled against the rim of your wine glass, your eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Sure do, an’ I didn’ take ya anywhere fer two weeks because ya broke yer damn arm an’ had to heal.” He crossed his arms and had a stern look on his face, but laughed nonetheless.

You just giggled and finished your glass, reaching for the bottle for some more but it was quickly snatched away.

“Not too fast,” Daryl chuckled, reaching for your glass and pouring it himself. “Thank you fer all this, ‘s by far the best birthday I’ve had in a while.” He handed you your glass back, brushing his fingers over yours as he did.

“It’s nothing… I just wanted to spoil you a little, even if it’s just a little.” You smiled and took a sip of the wine, your head starting to spin a little. He noticed and took your glass away, finishing the rest himself. You chuckled, “I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know, but I dun’ want ya completely drunk.” He took the plates and glasses and put them in the sink before sitting back down in his seat.

“Why’s that?” You leaned forward, grinning expectantly.

“’Cause I wanna be able to reward ya fer yer hard work,” he smirked and leaned back in his seat, manspreading like his life depended on it. “C’mere.”

As if you were in a trance you immediately stood up and wobbled over to him, your mind still hazy but you both knew what you wanted. He tilted his head back to look up at you, that same cocky smirk painted across his lips. He kept his hands on his thighs, and it was like a silent communication of what he wanted. You bit your lip and held eye contact as you kneeled down between his legs, his head cocking to the side as he looked down at you, bring one hand into your hair.

“Good girl… now I may be askin’ too much, but do ya mind?” He nodded towards his erection that was eagerly straining against his pants. You shook your head, bringing your hands up to unbuckle his belt. He grumbled graciously, his fingers curling in your hair.

You bit your lip as you solely focused on getting his pants off, feeling him lift his hips up a bit to make the removal process easier for you. You glanced up at him while sliding his pants and boxers off in one go, he grunted softly as his cock sprang out. His pants and boxers hung around his ankles as you moved closer, inspecting his length. The head was flushed red, and looked almost painfully hard as it twitched from the feeling of your warm breath brushing against it.

As you continued gawking at his cock, Daryl got impatient and took his length in his hand. Your drunken body felt even more turned on as you watched your husband stroke himself slowly, brushing his thumb over the sensitive tip and hissing. You whimpered, biting your lip as you moved closer. The cold tile against your thighs was a good relief from your aching heat, feeling yourself get wetter the more you watched him.

Daryl brought his other hand to the back of your neck, bringing you even closer as he held his cock and guided it to your lips. You closed your eyes and let him run his length against your cheeks, giggling a little as he slapped the tip against your lips. He pushed the head of his cock against your lips which you quickly parted, letting him slide half his length into your mouth.

You both groaned at the contact, both his hands moving into your hair while one of your hands moved to hold onto the base. Daryl threw his head back and whimpered softly as you literally sucked on him once, pulling off to leave little kitty licks on his sensitive tip. He pulled your hair into a ponytail and tugged on it when you took him into your mouth again, rolling his eyes back as your tongue swirled around the tip. He let out multiple moans and whimpers of pleasure as you bobbed your head, stroking what you couldn’t take with your hand.

You could feel him start to get close, by the sounds of his breathless whimpers and the way his grasp on your hair got tighter. You let go of his cock and braced yourself before fully letting him in, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. He moaned loudly, making a sound of protest and trying to pull you off of him. You didn’t budge and kept bobbing your head, gagging every time he hit the back of your throat. He whined breathily, his cock twitching in your mouth as he got closer and closer. Your eyes were teary but you kept going, wanting to taste his sweet release.

Daryl tugged your hair hard, groaning deeply as he came. Splurging ropes of warm semen into your mouth, you eagerly licked it all up, savouring the saltiness of his release. The sound and sight of him coming almost had you releasing yourself, reaching down to squeeze between your legs.

His hand released your hair and caressed the back of your head soothingly, as an apology for his rough tugging. You looked up at him as you swallowed the rest of his seed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Get up fer me,” he whispered hoarsely, grabbing onto your thighs as you obeyed. He stood up after you and pulled you against his chest, his cock stirring back to life as you felt it press between your thighs. One hand was on your waist while the other held your chin, tilting your head back to look at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip before dipping his head to kiss you deeply. He groaned into your mouth as he tasted himself on your tongue, your tongues wrapping together as you fought for dominance. Ultimately, he won and you let yourself be kissed aggressively by this man.

He placed both hands on your hips, pushing you back and pulling his lips off yours. Before you could think he turned you around and bent you over the dinner table, his hand immediately moving under your dress. You cried out as his fingers rubbed your wet heat over your panties which were well soaked by now, he kept his other hand on your lower back before pulling your panties off. He pushed the skirt of your dress up and over your ass, keeping you bent over on display for him. You didn’t hear anything for a few moments, the alcohol in your system making you hear your heart beat in your ears. Your knees buckled as you felt his tongue run along your slit, you whined slightly while his hands held you steady.

His tongue wiggled around between your folds, a soft cry escaping your lips every time he brushed over your clit. His lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it and you could feel him smirk when you cried out. He continued this motion, your eyes rolling back while the top half of your body lay flat against the table. His tongue was replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit harshly and making your leg tremble in sensitivity. You moaned loudly, the sound of your moans echoed through the kitchen while his tongue entered you. You gasped harshly at the intrusion, your nails scratching against the table as his tongue thrusted in and out of your wet heat. The warm feeling of coming undone was brewing up in your stomach, your moans ragged.

“Fuck… Dar I’m gonna cum,” you whined breathlessly. He didn’t stop, rubbing your clit even harder and causing you to arch you back and squirm against his face. His tongue remained inside of you as you came, your breath heavy while he licked up your sweet nectar. You sighed and lay your head against the table, your mind swirling with lust and haziness from the orgasm.

“Stay there,” he grunted as he stood up, rubbing the flesh of your ass with his palm. “Ya look so beautiful bent over fer me like this. Makes me wan’ ta fill ya up, put a baby in ya.” Your breath hitched, looking over your shoulder to see if he was serious.

“Really?” You whispered hoarsely, your eyes sparkling in want. “You want a baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grumbled, standing behind you while caressing your ass. “I mean hell, we’re both gettin’ old. I wanna be able to give ya a child before we can’t… will ya let me?”

“Yes, oh god yes Dar please.” You pleaded, earning a light tap to your bum as he bit his lip.

“Then be a good girl fer me and lay still, yer perfect.” He whispered, running his length between your ass cheeks teasingly. You bit your lip and lay your head against the wood of the table, panting in anticipation as he continued to rub his cock against you. He held his cock in his hand and rubbed the head against your clit, spreading your folds so he could thrust along them. You both moaned simultaneously, the two of you relishing the slick feeling.

He pulled his cock back, circling it around your entrance before pushing forward, filling you completely. You moaned out in delight, closing your eyes and clenching around the length inside you, feeling your walls mold to his cock. He groaned, grabbing your hips and moving back and forth slowly. Your eyes rolled back, biting your lip hard as you felt every inch of his velvety skin stroke your inner walls.

His fingers surely were leaving marks on your hips from how hard he was gripping onto you, clearly holding himself back from taking you roughly. He kept the pace slow, his cock occasionally brushing against your sweet spot but not fully meeting it. You moved back to meet his thrusts, earning a moan of approval from your movements. It still wasn’t enough.

“Need you deeper,” you pleaded softly, the high pitched tone of yours making his hips stutter. One of his hands ran up your back, grasping your hair and gently tugging you, prompting you to come up. You obeyed instantly, pushing yourself up as he carefully pulled you back to his chest. Your back arched as his hand trailed down over your throat, holding you against his shoulder.

He pressed his hips harder into you, eliciting a light breathy whine from you as your back arched further. He continued his hard thrusts, turning his head to press kisses along your neck, his cock reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hips. You were closer to getting what you wanted, just one swivel of your hips against his was what got it. He slammed against your sweet spot, your jaw dropped and you closed your eyes as he kept hitting the spot. Your moans came out freely, his palm against your throat as you leaned back on his shoulder, mewling and whining loudly.

His grunts came in your ear, his breath heavy and hot as the both of you started to sweat from exertion. The sound of your skin slapping together echoed through the kitchen along with your whimpering moans and his grunts and groans. He let go of your throat and let you fall over the table, placing both his hands on your hips and thrusting with renewed intensity. His hips slapped against yours hard, his eyes watching your ass jiggle with every contact. He brought a hand up to grip your ass, pushing himself deeper into your pussy. The wet sounds of him thrusting in and out just filled you with more arousal, closing your eyes to fully immerse yourself in the moment.

You tightened around his cock as you felt yourself coming close to completion, the feeling of your walls tight around him made Daryl groan deeply. His hips stuttered but kept the pace, fucking you deeply and hard. It was clear he was also close as his grip on you became tighter and his movements got sloppier.

“Fuck, yer so tigh’… gonna fill ya up,” he groaned, thrusting harder into you. “Gonna make ya carry my babies.”

His words sent a chill up your spine, mewling out in pleasure and desire. “I want that… please…” You begged pathetically, your voice barely a whisper from all your crying and moaning.

“Imma give it to ya, dun’ worry baby. Gonna cum inside ya so deep,” he grunted, pulling your hips back in time with his movements. “Gonna give ya a baby, make ya a mama.” You whined in desire, clawing at the wood as your body trembled. Your orgasm quickly coming up.

You screamed out his name as you came for the second time tonight, rolling your eyes back as you did. You lay against the table while your legs struggled to keep you standing, his hips rapidly pushing in and out of you as he chased his orgasm.

“Shit, fuckin’ tigh’ as shit.” He cursed haphazardly, his balls tightening as they threatened to burst. “C’mon take it, take it pretty girl,” he shouted as he came, deep inside of you like he promised. He fucked you through his orgasm, groaning softly before pulling out.

Your entire body shook in sensitivity, your legs threatening to give out. Daryl continued to hold you up, watching your pussy drip with his cum. He reached down to scoop it back into you, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling.

“Dun’ wan’ this ta go ta waste now do we?” He taunted hotly into your ear, pulling your panties up and letting your dress fall over your ass. He slapped your ass playfully before pulling up his own underwear and pants, buckling his belt. “Now let’s go cuddle upstairs hm?” He chuckled lowly and scooped you up into his arms, his expression softening at your fucked out expression.

You looked up at him sleepily and nodded, pulling his head down to kiss him softly. He hummed against your lips, taking you upstairs.

“Happy birthday, Dar.”

[porcalinecunt]

𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐓 !

𐐂 what if kakucho was an incubus . . . ?

🩰 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐔𝐁𝐔𝐒! 𝐊𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐎 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐎 𝐗 𝐆𝐍! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

🧴𝐒𝐌𝐔𝐓

𝐜𝐰 — afab!reader. soft dom! kakucho. sub!reader. fingering. biting. blood. sound kink. size kink(?). soft sex. kakucho has a tail. cumshots.

a/n: happy 2024 yall! sorry i haven’t been posting much, school was kicking my ass and i’ll be just as busy for the next few months ahead. i want to continue the incubus series though so here’s kakucho! if you want to request a charecter, my inbox is open! as always, enjoy! 🤍

꒰ incubus! kakucho would notice you in your most vulnerable state, desperately riding what looked like a fuzzy depiction of another man. your body language and a face too euphoric for someone fucking a rando said enough about your troubles. you missed someone, and you missed them bad. at least, not for long.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would make sure his welcome was warm, retracting his claws and hiding his massive wings as you opened your eyes to meet him in yet another dream. his hands were soft, squeezing the plush of your thighs and hips. your confusion quickly washed away as you felt something slither around your arm. it was black and furry with a sharp, pointed end. his tail wrapped snug around your arm, almost pulling you closer to him.

꒰ incubus! kakucho slithers his fingers in your immediately, watching your face contort in pleasure as he finds your weak spots with ease. you could only stare in awe as he leans into your neck, biting into the soft skin. hot blood trickled down your chest, but your senses were so overwhelmed with pleasure that the sting faded into nothingness. nonetheless, he was careful. Treating you with a tenderness that most incubuses would throw into the wind, consider yourself a lucky one.

꒰ incubus! kakucho, after easing your pussy and drenching his fingers, would slowly sink his cock into you. he would only stop, as he watched you struggle to take it. you’re not the first mortal to struggle taking him, and certainly not the last. unable to keep your legs open, kakucho pushed them down until they touched your chest while keeping them together, exposing your cunny completely. he watched in awe as you swallowed him whole, sighing in response.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would savor every last sound you made. every loud moan and yelp your throat forced out just went straight to his dick, driving him deeper into your greedy cunt. despite your shy and hesitant demeanor, you refused to let him slip out even by accident. kakucho pushed himself forward, placing both hands besides your head, caging you completely. he admired you as your syrupy eyes looked around at the current position you were in as your mouth hung open.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would reach closer and closer to his orgasm, holding your legs and keeping your thighs spread apart while his pace grew sloppy. he leaned down, pressing his lips against yours in a long and slow kiss. incubuses would bust a lung laugh at the mere thought of intimacy with a mortal, but kakucho still had his shread of kindness that he gladly shared as you came around his cock from the shockingly gentle act.

꒰ incubus! kakucho would feel his dick twitch as the knot in his stomach began to snap. he’d pull out and give himself a few more strokes before threads of his seed would paint your trembling body. groaning and sighing, he adored the sight in front of him. your legs trembling while your chest and face were flushed. his cum spilled all over your stomach, some even reaching your chin. if only he could stay for longer, but it’s no big deal after all! you’ll see him again soon enough the next time you miss a hookup or ex. <3

🎀 this work belongs to @porcalinecunt. reblogs and feedback are appreciated. <3

[ilovechuuy4]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ It's yo' Birthday, so I know you Want to Ri-i-i-ide Out.

Dazai x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1,440 words 7,823 characters

Warning; Passionate s3x, hickeys, biting, eating out, reverse cowboy/girl, doggy style, hj, pure smut, no after care but was def given. Edging etc etc.

Description; Birthday sex with your boyfriend

A/N; Hai!! This wasn't too rushed but I'm not saying it wasn't cause I also had to deal with the fathers day head canons! Hope y'all enjoy! ALSO HAPPY JUNE TEENTH!

⊱ Rough sex for Dazais birthday as a requested gift ⊰

You were already gasping, arms wrapped around the brunette's shoulders as you were pressed against the wall the two of yalls lips pressed together. Maybe it was a bit early for this, but it was Dazais birthday, and this was the "gift" he wanted. Birthday sex, maybe it was an absurd 'present'; no gifts no cake, just you, him and the bed.

The male's hand was already shoved in your shorts groping your ass, his hands clumsy. The make out session was hot and intense, your hands working the bandaged man's shirt off, breaking the kiss to pull the shirt over his head. Dazai smiled, allowing you to take off his shirt. His kisses trailed down your jawline, then your neck leaving a trail of wetness in his wake. The two of y'all were both needy as it's been quite a while since y'all have really had any intercourse cause of Dazais work.

Half-naked and panting, dazai gently pushes your clothed form onto the plush bed. You watch tentatively as he works your clothes off, tossing them on the ground with any other clothes that were already there. The man that was just right above you was kissing and sucking down your body, his mouth leaving wet trails and red marks all over your body. You squirmed, fingers gripping the messy hair that threaded between your fingers.

You wanted as the brunette's finger hooked into the waistline of your underwear, working them down slowly as he kisses and bites your inner thigh, leaving little marks of pleasure. You were already moaning under each ministration that your boyfriend had made as he reached your needy entrance, tongue pressed against it as he lapped at the tight heat. God was this amazing, but you didn't feel bad cause this was supposed to be HIS birthday, but who knew what was going on in his head.

"Babe, you know..this is like my cake. You're my cake, no pun intended of course." Dazai said with a sly grin before slowly driping his tongue inside, exploring your insides. You let out a whimper, nails digging into his scalp as you subconsciously grind your hips against his face. "Keep..keep going dazai." You couldn't help but whine out, face reder than a fresh cherry. He was skilled, with his tongue that was. Dazai was enjoying himself, subtle groans escaping him as he plunged his tongue deeper.

Your body convulsed a bit as you felt the bandaged man's finger slip in with his tongue, stretching you open. Your back arched off the bedding as you whined and moaned, nails gripping tightly at the tall man's hair not seeming to let go anytime soon. You were letting this happen, of course it was consensual, but you were letting dazai take all the control he wanted. "You're enjoying yourself; you like it that much?" Dazai teased, slowly pulling away from your body.

You panted as you watch him strip his pants and boxers off, you had no words left in your throat you could only swallow thickly. his cock hard as he sat on the bed back pressed against the headboard. "You gonna help me out and prep me? I mean I did prepare you?" Dazai said with a devilish grin, God was he cocky. You crawl over to where he was, yalls lips meeting as your hands find his erection. Your hand wraps around it, stroking it firmly before grazing your nail along the underside of member in front of you.

The kiss was getting heated as if this night wasn't already; mouths fully connected by tongues intertwining, dazais fingers roaming along with your own. The two of yall's tongues dancing to the sweet symphony of lust. It was all a mangled mesh of goodness as you slowly pulled away, mouths only connected with a thin strand of shared saliva. You followed the man's movements as you allowed him to plant hot kisses down your neck. You fumble for the condoms in the upper drawer of the nightstand as you let out soft gasps and groans of pleasure from the sensation and Dazai was doing the same.

Once you reach the condoms you retract, resting your head on Dazai's shoulder with a soft huff. You saw a disgusting smirk on the man's face as he helped you into position. It wasn't the most convenient for you, but he'd always seemed to enjoy reverse cowgirl/cowboy. You heard the rip of the packaged condom. You glance back only to see the bandaged man admiring the fine person in front of him. The flesh, blood and meat he could call his own. You could feel your cheeks warming up as you glance away.

"Go on now, baby~" You heard Dazai say, he wanted you to do it on your own but oh, how you knew he'd take control later. You squirm a bit as you take his erection in your hand, positioning it to your entrance slowly sinking down. You let out a soft whine of pleasure, the man behind you groaning as he felt his cock disappear deep within your tight tunnel. You had felt his thin and boney fingers grip onto your hips, helping himself as he drives his shaft inside you fully.

As you felt it you couldn't help but moan loudly, back bowing as you yourself start to grind against Dazai. "Ahh..~ mhm.." The moans escape you as drool oozes from your mouth and onto the white sheets. "God, you're drooling like a dog, baby." Dazai teases with a devious glint in his eyes as he trails kisses down your spine making your back arching into his lips. Whines and groans escape your mouth as you felt the man behind you taking more control every second.

"That's it, let those moans escape that pretty little mouth of yours." He coos, and before you knew it y'all were in doggy style. He took the opportunity of you being a hot mess to push you down into doggy, your face buried in the bed sheets. He pounds into you, almost aggressivly, the tip of his cock slamming against the sweet spot deep inside you cause you to let out a long, strained moan. It's almost like with each thrust the two of you saw the pearly gates themselves.

The room was filled with skin against skin and the two of yall's moans echoing off the walls. His balls slap against your ass, making loud slapping sounds as dazai's thrusts become for erotic and slipping his breathes going on staggered gasps. You couldn't help but cry out moaning, back arching like a cat as you roll your hips a bit to see if the man driving himself inside of you could reach deeper within you than he was already.

You gasp and moan as you felt yourself about to cum but just as you were about to moan you felt dazai pull out a let out a chuckle. "Cmon now, Cumming so soon, just give it a bit." He teased, leaning up and biting down onto your collar bone, leaving the imprints of his upper and lower teeth deeply imbedded in your skin. You like out a struggled whine as you felt him slow slip the tip of his erection back inside teasing you by pushing it back 'nd forth inside of you.

You hardly can do this anymore as your boyfriend teased you, edging you. His ministrations slower than a snail, small grunts escaping him as he fought all urges to thrust back deep inside you and make you lose yourself in the pleasure of it all. He takes a sharp breath before thrusting back I side deeply, his entire length filling you entirely.

"Ahh! Ngh!~" You couldn't help but let out strained moans as you cum, body trembling just as you collapse down onto the bed. The man bandaged man behind you kept up with his erotic thrusts, pistoning in and out of you at a rapid pace as he neared his edge. You couldn't help the whines that escaped your mouth as your exhausted body still reacted to the aggressive thrusts.

Dazai pants heavily as he cums, it shoots inside the condom. He collapses on top of you, panting alongside you. He trails kissed down your sweaty body as he pulled out slowly. "I guess this was a win win or the both of us, huh baby?" Dazai said with a cheeky grin, rolling off of you and flat onto his back just to pull you close. "Happy birthday, 'Samu." You say breathlessly which made him smile, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

[deanscherrypie69]

You left without saying goodbye |DW.|

♡Dean Winchester X Female Reader♡

♡Warnings: Mentions of Y/n picking up an alcohol addiction, no use of Y/n. (Maybe like twice) Langue and mentions of blood. 18+ pls minors DNI!!!!!♡ please do not post my fics anywhere else expect tumblr, you have been warned! Also most of this was written on my phone 😭

♡Feedback is appreciated! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!!!!♡

My inbox is open!

Dividers by: @cafekitsune !!!

A/N thank yall sm for the love and support on the first part of the fic! It means the world to me!!! And as yall requested. Part two! Pls don’t hate me it’s a long one so buckle up✋🏽🥲

Also Happy bday to Jensen!!! Love you v much!!🤠🤎

♡Part one♡

It had been three moths since that night with Dean, it had played over and over again in your mind when you went to sleep every night.

You swore you could feel his lips on yours, or the sounds he made when he was moving in and out of your body.

You hated it so much, you hated him. With his stupid eyes his pink lips you hated him.

But you took all of that rage out on, the monsters you’d hunt. Shooting them stabbing them. Anything you could think of.

You had come back from a bad werewolf hunt with Bobby, one of the wolfs clawed your abdomen trying to save Bobby.

So here you were nursing a bottle of whiskey as the old man stitched you up.

Oh yea and you forgot to mention you kind picked up a drinking habit over the last few months.

“Do you have a deal death with or something?” The old man asks as he threads your skink back together.

“No.” You hiss as he pulls the thread in and out of you.

“You’re not a very good lair.” He says grabbing the scissors to cut the string.

You raise your brow, “you aren’t a very good nurse either.” You say standing up. You grab stomach with a groan as you walk to the kitchen.

Bobby watches you struggle to walk away. He begins to clean the blood off his hands with a towel.

Bobby never bought it up because it was never any of his business. But. He cared about you a lot. You were like his daughter he’d never had have.

That day when he picked you up from the hotel. There was something wrong. You hadn't said anything to him about it since then. It has been three months and Bobby had grown curious.

Bobby takes a sigh and sits in his chair in front of his desk.

“What happened that I had to drive almost three hours out to pick you up from a motel?”

Bobby saw your body stiffen with the questions, he knew he had struck a nerve.

You grown and begin to walk up stairs, not wanting to answer his questions, “Good night Bobby.” You groan.

Bobby rolls his eyes “damn kid.”

This had been the worst sleep of your life by far. You couldn’t sleep you were up all night tossing and turning. You groan as you flick the covers off of your body.

You look over at the time on your alarm clock, it was almost 12 in the afternoon.

You groan and begin to rummage through your pile of clean clothes you had just washed.

“Please tell me you have coffee on and some painkillers.” You groan grabbing your stomach as you walk down the stairs

“I really could use some.” You say rubbing your eyes.

When Bobby didn’t say anything you remove your hands away from your eyes. And when you opened them you did not expect to see someone you haven’t seen in three months.

“Dean?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You were angry.

You turn to the old man who was sitting across from him, “What the hell is he doing here?” You question, not looking over in Deans' direction.

“He’s here because he got a weird call, someone pretending to be Sam.” He says “just wanted to know if we got the call that’s all.”

You roll your eyes and clench your stomach, you don’t even look his way, he had left you after sharing an intimate moment, he left you vulnerable.

You scoff and walk over to the coffee pot, you poor yourself a cup, Bobby looks between you and Dean.

Dean had his eyes glued to your back, waiting for you to turn around and look at him. But you didn’t. He watched as you grab the painkillers from the top cabinet with a groan.

“I’ll be upstairs.” You mumble.

Bobby nods as he watches you carefully disappear upstairs.

“Are you gonna talk about it?��� Bobby questions.

Dean huffs and leans back “nothing to talk about, just came here to see if you got that call that's all.”

Bobby let’s out a chuckle. “You came here to see if she was here.”

Bobby states.

Dean rolls his eyes. “No i didn’t,” Dean argues.

“Bullshit, something happened between you too.” Bobby says looking at the green eyed man.

Dean nods his head “it did but it was a mistake, we both were missing Sam.” Dean rubs a hand down his face.

Bobby cuts Dean off “Does she know that?” Bobby questions. “That girl has had a death wish for three months. I made her stop hunting, I don't know if you noticed, she has a pretty bad injury."

“Whatever you did you need too clear it up.” Bobby says.

Dean stands up from his chair “There’s nothing to clear cause nothing happened, it didn’t mean anything, not to me anyway.” Dean grabs his jacket.

Before Dean reached the front door he saw you at the bottom of the stairs, with your bloodied bandages that you had just switched out with new ones. In your hands

He didn’t miss the way the tears in your eyes welded up. He give you a small smile the exits the house,

“How much did you hear.”

You swallow hard, “Enough” you walk into the kitchen and shove the bandages in the trash. And once again you had disappeared up the stairs.

It has been three days since Dean had come. Bobby wasn't home, he hasn’t been home for a few days he was cleaning up a ghoul hunt in Ohio. You were left alone reading lore books. About monsters.

Your wound on your abdomen, still hurt like hell, you felt like it was keeping you from hunting and you hated it.

You were bought out of your thoughts when there was a frantic knock at the door, you carefully get up from your spot and make your way to the front door.

“Who is it” you say.

“Y/n? It’s Sam open the door.”

You raise your eyebrows.

“Thats impossible you’re in hell.”

You hear a loud sigh coming from the door, you watch as the bottom lock jiggles and then the door opens, it opens up enough to see the tall hunter standing in the door way.

“Sam?”

He rolls his eyes and squeezes past you, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell everybody.” He huffs closing the door behind him

“How.” You watch as the tall man makes his way through the house as if he was looking for someone? “Where’s Bobby?”

“Ghoul hunt.” You say watching him,

“Dean? Did he go with Bobby?”

You shake your head ‘no”

“I haven’t talked to him not really, not since-“

Sam nods at your words

“How did you-“ you point

Sam shrugs “I don’t know.” He chuckles. Sam stops and looks at you. “Give me your phone.” He says

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, reaching into your back pocket you fish out your phone, handing it to the tall man.

Sam smiles he clicks the screen a few times.

You sigh and walk past him, into the kitchen.

You listen as Sam mumbles a quick 'bye' into the phone.

Sam walks back to you handing you your phone, "Who'd you call?" You hum tucking your phone back into your pocket.

You had already knew the answer to that question. You didn’t even know why you asked.

Sam reaches beside you and opens the fridge, he reaches in and grabs two beers.

"Dean." He says handing you the bottle.

You don't say anything expect, you pop the top off and throw it into the sink. Sam sighs as he watches you knock back the beer in a few sips.

"Did something happen between you guys, when i called he thought it was you." Sam says.

You set the empty bottle down. "It did, but according to him, it didn't mean anything." You state. You take a shaky breath, "He left me, without saying goodbye Sam. I don't even know where he's been for the last three months."

Sam notices a tear slide down your cheek, "He's been playing house, with Lisa. Seems like when shit hits the fan he keeps going back to her."

"What?" Your voice was shaky. You don't remember anyone in Dean's life named Lisa. But then you rack through your brain.

"The dark-haired lady? With that kid named Ben?"

Sam nods.

You remembered them both, You three were working on a case when Dean had knocked at the door, and she had answered, it was her son's birthday.

"He was in love with her?" You question. Sam nods. "I guess he still is."

You sigh, you wondered if you were Dean's second option.

'I'm going to- take a nap." You say looking down at your watch.

Sam nods and rubs the small of your back,

Walking into the living room, you had grabbed a blanket that was. Draped over the back of an empty chair, you always liked sleeping on the cot Bobby had by the window, it was peaceful hearing the birds chirping, pulling the blanket up you quickly fall asleep.

it had felt like you were sleeping forever but that was until you felt someone shaking you.

Opening your eyes you see Sam, "Hey.” he says, “Bobby called, and told me you needed your bandages switched out."

You yawn and rub your eyes. Sam helps you sit up. You lift up your shirt with a wince.

He grabs the bandages that had been on Bobby's desk.

Sam pulls a chair up.

You had been hardly awake for that long when you heard the side door open. "Hey." Sam says not even looking in that direction, he had been placing the new bandages on you.

You knew who it was, you had been hoping. That he wouldn't had come tonight you didn't want to have to face him.

You watch and he walks in the room where you and Sam where, his eyes glued on you, he had a fresh beer in his hand.

Sam pats your leg motioning you pull down your shirt. "Thanks." You mumble. Sam smiles at you, he walks into the kitchen past Dean to wash his hands.

You pull the blanket back over your body.

Dean watches you stare out the window, it had remined him of that night- before he left.

He sits in the chair that Sam was just in. His beer resting between his legs. "Please go." You sniffle not wanting to look at him.

When Dean didn’t listen you turn to look at him, your breathing was harsh. You were mad.

The anger that you had built up for the past few months was just begging to come out.

“So Lisa huh?”

Dean opens and closes his mouth.

“Did you decide to go be with her before or after you fucked me!” You spat, throwing the blanket off your body you sit on the edge of the bed.

Your chest heaving up and down.

When Dean didn’t say anything you continue. “You left me Dean, you didn’t call you didn’t text, for all I could’ve know you could’ve died. But no you were playing house with some whore.” You spat

Dean licks his lips, “don’t talk about her like that.” He grumbles

You roll your eye, I’ll talk about her however I goddamn please.”

You and Dean stare at each other.

“Was it a mistake Dean?” You question.

Dean blinks a few times. He had forgotten you heard his and Bobby’s conversation.

Dean shakes his head, he had convinced himself it was a mistake the day he left you and went to Lisa.

But he knew deep down it wasn’t. If it was he wouldn’t have been the first one to kiss you.

“No, I thought about you everyday for three months when I left.” Dean was telling the truth weather or jot you decided to believe it or not.

He dreamed about you daily. He could still smell your perfume. He could hear you little moans. When he hit that sweet spot inside of you.

He didn’t know why he left he was scared.

Scared that maybe you would’ve regretted it too.

But it turns out, you were far from thinking that.

You scoff, “Bullshit.” You spat. “I was your second option Dean. You got your fix and left me. I’m nothing to you, and I never will be.”

Tears stream down your face, Wiping your hands doen your face you get up from your spot on the cot. “You Sam and Bobby don’t need me,” you say grabbing your jacket. You reach into on of the draws that Bobby have in the kitchen, it had sets of car keys in it.

You take a random one and walk out the door.

Dean chases after you.

“Y/n stop!” Dean shouts.

You had stopped in your tracks, you turn around to face Dean.

“I’m leaving Dean You can’t stop me.” You say.

You hit the car alarm on the key fob and one of the cars that were sitting in the lot begin to light up. Turning the alarm off you hop into the car.

Dean watches as you pull away in the car.

Something in the back of Dean’s mind told him to stop you. He wanted just to talk it over with you maybe. Just maybe it could have a different outcome.

It was just one big misunderstanding.

He watches as you pull out of the driveway.

Your car begins to move slowly. It was like you wanted to come back. But you kept driving.

Until. Another car coming from the opposite direction, came speeding down.

You tried to get out of the way but it was too late.

Dean watches as the car rams into yours with full speed.

“Y/n!” Dean shouts as he begins to run.

Dean ran, it felt like forever. When he reached the car you were in he sees your body hunched over. There was blood all over you face it was coming out of your ears and nose.

The wound on your stomach was open, there was so much blood, Dean had seen nothing like it.

This was not happening hew knew he should’ve stopped you. He should’ve stopped you.

He scoops your body up in his arms. He looks down at your face, your eyes begin to flutter open.

“I’m sorry-“ was all you say before it all went black.

“I’m gonna get you help sweetheart, you ain’t leaving me.” Dean says putting you in the back of the impala.

But Dean sees your eyes closed.

He was not going to let you die, not in his watch.

Fic tags: @emilyroxy @preciouscupcake @aylacavebear @suckitands33 @nescavaneck @rockstargal @star-yawnznn @constancelynn @deangirl96 @sacrosankta @tomorrowseverything @brightlilith

Thank you for all of the support!! Love you all!!!

[alexa-fika]

Picky eaters, Tricky givers( Mihawk x gn!sick!child!reader)

A/N: Here is to the anon that requested a sick scenario with mihawk, but my brain farted massively and wasn’t able to understand the request, maybe I ‘ll have something in a bit for you to make up for it 👀 Yall did I or did I not COOK WITH THAT TITLE IM SO SMART AND COOL AND HYPE

I hope you get well soon anon : ( and thank you for your kind words!

Dividers by @/saradika

Mihawk enters his child’s room, ready to awaken them from their long slumber

“Reader, it is now noon; you should not be in bed at this time.”

A groan is all he receives as sniffles escape the bundle of blankets

Mihawk sighs and shakes his head as he starts pulling the mountain of blankets that laid on the bed.

“No matter how often I try, you are so difficult to awake...Come now; it is time to get up.” He said pulling the covers all the way

They groan at the loss of heat, sweat covering their body and face red, heavy breaths leaving the child

Mihawk sharp eyes were quick to notice the sweat covering the child’s body and his flushed red skin.

“You’re ill...” the swordsman states

“Im not…” they mumble, squeezing their eyes tighter before slightly opening them, eyes dazed

The child’s voice was barely audible to Mihawk; having to slightly lean closer to properly make out what they were saying.

Mihawk’s eyes furrow upon hearing his child’s reply and seeing their hazy and dazed eyes.

Even though they tried to deny being sick, it was clear that something was awry.

“That is highly unlikely given your current state,” Mihawk said, glancing at the small child, putting his hand over their forehead gingerly

“Im okay, look, im okay,” they drawled, pulling themselves up

Mihawk’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched his child attempt to get up, Sighing as he put biscuits hands on their shoulders to push them back into the bed

“Lay Down”

“You are clearly unwell; I can see your body temperature rising, and you are drenched in sweat... You are clearly unwell... Do not oppose me on this... I will not allow you to leave your bed until you are in full health,” Mihawk spoke sternly yet calmly.

The navy warlord’s eyes were fixated on his child as if trying to gauge the severity of their health.

“Is this regarding the medicine?”

They pout but don’t respond

Mihawk sighed

“I know you hate the medicine... But you must take it for your own good... ,” Mihawk told them carresing their head

“I don’t need it. Im not sick.”

Mihawk’s gentle caress comes to an abrupt pause when he hears his child’s words. He was clearly annoyed with the denial of the child’s sickness.

However, the child’s feverish responses were not matching with their words.

The child’s temperature was still rising, and they were getting increasingly sweaty.

“You need to hydrate yourself; you have lost too much water overnight, and the medicine.”

“It’s yucky.”

Mihawk lets out a light chuckle as he hears his child speak.

He continues to stroke the child’s hair as he replies, clearly amused by what they have to say.

“You can’t avoid things just because they are distasteful; you must accept things whether they are unpleasant or not... So drink the medicine; it will only take a few seconds.”

Mihawk sighed as they just shook their head, realizing this was not going to get him anywhere; only the same loop would repeat if he were to continue this approach.

“I will let the medicine be postponed for later in the day, but you must consume liquids in the meantime.”

They nod, happy with this development

“Apple juice!”

His child was, at times very stubborn about a lot of things, however their desires were quite simple.

“Very well,” he said, leaving them room and shortly returning with said drink.

Mihawk gently tilts his child’s head back, holding the cup filled with juice above their lips.

“Here, thread carefully, as I do not want you to choke,” Mihawk says with a soft but firm voice.

He awaits for the child to follow his orders.

They smiled, taking quickly, drinking the juice until they realized what they were drinking was not juice at all but the medicine that their father had strategically placed behind the juice, a straw in the cup of medicine rather than the juice.

They scrunch their eyes, moving backwards to spit the liquid out, stopped by their father's hand followed by his gentle touch trailing down his throat, stimulating their swallowing mechanism.

Mihawk chuckles as he watches the child realize that the “juice” was actually the medicine he’d been trying to give them.

Clearly, his methods of trying to get his child to consume the medicine were more effective than previously thought.

“ Perhaps next time you should just drink it the first time; I will make you drink it one way or the other,” Mihawk smirks.

“Meanie!” They exclaimed, digging themselves into their cocoons of blankets, leaving a chuckling Mihawk out of view

“I will leave your drink on the table. Be sure to stay hydrated, but do nor rush it.”

The only response he received was the child poking their head momentarily to stick their to tongue out at him

“I take it that you do not want the beverage? If that is the case, I will simply take it; I would rather not waste resources if you will not drink them.”

“No!” They exclaimed, shooting up, grabbing the drink, and gulping it down, glaring at their father as they did

I get more worried each time I do this that Mihawk is so oc to the point that it doesn’t resemble Mihawk anymore 🙃 Is this still Mihawk? Of course I have to be kind to myself as Mihawk also Isn’t super paternal, maybe to a teen like Perona but maybe not a toddler 😂, what we thinking?

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— AIN’T LOVE GRAND

SUMMARY : the intention for keeping you in his home was to keep you safe from any dangers, but now.. it’s become an addiction to have you so close to him. he can’t bear the thought of everything going back to how it was… and somehow, you end up feeling the same

PAIRING : vampire!dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none 

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), baker!dean, kidnapping, stalking (it’s only hot if dean does it), angst, unhealthy obsession, yandere!Dean, possessiveness, soft Dean, reader isn’t perfect, vague chronic illness, panic attack, banter, talk of infertility, Stockholm syndrome, two screwed up people

WORD COUNT : 7.0k (SORRY)

A/N : last chapter! this fills the square for stockholm syndrome on my @jacklesversebingo card. do yall ever choose to ignore whenever someone is being romantic towards you? that can’t just be me who does that…. yeah, okay xx

READER’S POV

When you woke up, the sun bothered your eyes more than you were expecting. Your windows typically blocked out the unwanted sunlight. You whined and pressed your face into the pillow, it smelled familiar and delightfully masculine. 

It didn’t smell the way it usually did. And your drowsy brain tried to think back to the previous night and your bleary eyes opened to the unfamiliar white walls around you. Your limbs felt heavy and weak, so you didn’t move. Your eyes closed again. 

This large bed wasn’t yours. The sheets weren’t as soft as you loved them to be, the mattress was fantastic though. The way you sank into it felt heavenly and you moaned as basked in the feeling.

“Morning, sweetheart.” That familiar voice, husky and rich like waves crashing against cliffs. Dean? You turned your face to the opposite side you were facing, unable to move your body properly. Your eyes fluttered shut against your will and then you forced them open to see Dean sitting next to you.

He was fully clothed. His arms were crossed over a black t-shirt with Metallica written across his chest. He looked concerned and chewed on his lip. He uncrossed his arms and weaved his thick fingers into your hair. Your eyes closed, humming as his cool touch jolted your warm body. What you hated was the feeling of being sleepy.

No… it was something familiar. More familiar and more terrifying than sleepiness. More terrifying than drowsiness. It was the sedation of a drug you felt that was freaking you out. You hated sedatives. They made everything feel like a dream, like everything around you was unreal. 

“Did you… drug me?” You mumbled, lazily attempting to push his hand away. Upset with him for making you relive the sensation of reality being pulled apart like a loose thread that slowly unravelled the solid design of a piece of fabric. 

You could feel and hear your heartbeat in your ears, louder than whatever Dean had said in response to your question. Your heartbeat quickened and your breath came out shaky and uneven. You struggled to get up. Your panic with the feeling of unreality always overtook any sedative you were given. 

Your vision blurred. Everything was slow and fast at the same time. You could tell that you were being pulled upwards, and felt something cold against the back of your neck, and against your cheek. Cool air breezed over your ear, his whispered words. You desperately clung to whatever was in front of you. You felt the soft cotton of a shirt inside your fists and the smooth skin of… Dean. 

Dean. 

Dean.

You slowly became more grounded. Your heartbeat was no longer beating relentlessly against your ribs, nor was it deafening you with loud thuds in your ears. Your eyes were tearing up now that the worst of it was over and you could breathe somewhat properly.

You were more aware now of what was so cold against your hot and flushed skin. It was all Dean. He had his cheek pressed against yours and he was whispering something to you. And his hand was pressing into your neck, his fingers were buried in your hair, massaging the base of your neck gently with his fingers. 

You were embarrassed by your silent tears, felt the heat in your body rise, but Dean’s temperature evened it out. 

As reality settled and solidified around you, you became more aware of yourself and Dean. You felt yourself in his lap, felt the unusual coldness of his body seeping into your flushed body despite the layers he wore. And finally, you remembered last night, you remembered why he was so cold. 

DEAN’S POV

He could feel your warm tears against his shoulder and your body trembling with nerves. 

He felt regret. So much regret for everything that had happened to you, all because of him. It’s always his fault, everything. He should’ve stayed away from you. He should’ve left you alone and never let himself fall deeper in love with you. He shouldn’t have infiltrated your life and made you his friend. 

You wouldn’t be so upset and traumatised if it weren’t for him. He could hear the blood rushing rapidly through your body, the chatter of your teeth, and the frenzied beat of your heart, and feel the cold of her nerves in your hands, the way you shuddered in his arms, and the heat in your cheeks. 

Slowly you pulled away from him, your hands loosened their grip on his shirt to wipe your tears away before he could. You stared down at his chest, deep in your thoughts, and he could see the realisation dawn on you as you remembered last night’s end. 

He slowly smoothed his hand up and down your back, soothing your nerves until soon you murmured: “How can you be…?” 

You struggled to say the truth you remembered, but he finished your question. “A vampire?”

You exhaled shakily once he said it himself.

“Were you ever planning on telling me… this… about yourself?” You whispered, playing with your fingers anxiously. Dean cautiously took your hands in his and your eyes moved to his face. He could feel you watching him with your tired, sedated eyes. He was terrified to look up now that you knew the truth, so he admired your slim fingers and your chipped red nail polish. Did you see a monster, too, now?

“I…” It wasn’t that easy to answer. “No, I never would have told you,” he admitted. There were a hundred reasons he was afraid to tell you the truth about himself and all of them were rooted in fear. Fear that you would reject him, fear that he would somehow find a way to put you in danger, fear that someone else would find out and try to hurt him… 

“Do you… I don’t even know how to ask about what or who you eat…” you wording sounded humorous, but your voice didn't. It was monotone, probably because of the sedative he’d slipped into your tea last night.

“I wouldn’t hurt innocent people,” he clarified. You hummed thoughtfully and let his words sink in. He paused before he continued. “If you really wanna know, I… uh, hunt animals in the forest. I had human blood once, when I turned, but I can’t remember what it tasted like, so… I can’t say I miss it.”

“When did you turn?” You asked, a little more comfortably. He dared to look up at you and saw your curiosity, your tiredness, your humour. He blinked, did you think this was funny? “Please… tell me you’re not a thousand years old because… that would be so creepy.”

He let out a laugh, short and awkward. “I’m not that old. I’m 44, I was turned.. um, a little over ten years ago… why would it be creepy?” 

Your expression became innocent, your eyes went wide, your brows lifted, and then you flushed. You shrugged and shook your head dismissively. He narrowed his eyes at you playfully because there was an embarrassed smile growing on your lips that you attempted to hide by biting your lip.

“So… are vampires more like Buffy or Twilight?” You wondered and slipped out of his lap to lay back in his bed. He watched you, confused and awed by your acceptance of the truth. 

“You’re handling this better than I thought…” he trailed off, watching you snuggle his pillow. He felt his stomach flip at your cuteness and felt a little jealous of his pillow. How ridiculous.

“When I was a kid, I’m pretty sure I was being haunted by ghosts, so…” you mumbled sleepily. Your lashes fluttered like butterfly wings against your cheeks. His lips tugged into a small smile.

“Really? How do you know?” 

“Well… plates would fall from cabinets in the kitchen… I’d hear stuff movin’ in the walls in my bathroom. There was scratchin’ on m’bed at night. I’d hear footsteps when there was no one…”

“Coulda been rats,” he tried to reason, but it did sound an awful lot like a ghost. Your eyes opened to glare at him. He snickered. You smiled lazily.

“Then, how come it stopped when my mom called the priest to bless the house?”

He raised a brow. That’s not how ghosts worked… “Really?”

“Only at first… when we moved away, ‘cause they were renovating the house, it started up again. Stuff we had on shelves would fly out and almost hit us, lights would flicker. It even happened outside, when we finished packing, the swing my dad made us started moving insanely high and there was no wind. We had to call some people back to bless the house again.” That sounded really weird…

“Sounds more like a demon,” he muttered worriedly. 

“You think so? My dad always thought there was a demon out to get him,” you giggled, then returned to your peaceful state. You closed your eyes and kept a dainty smile on your lips. Dean didn’t think that was funny. What if you’d gotten hurt? What if the demon still lived in your house? 

“Why would he think that?” 

He was met with silence. Your breathing slowed with your heartbeat and you were out again. Maybe the dose of the sedative was too high for you. This time, he had a feeling you’d have a better sleep, but your story bothered him. Maybe he needed to check your house more thoroughly while you slept and focus on the supernatural over natural dangers.

Dean returned a few hours later.

He didn’t find any signs of demonic activity in your home. Not even a speck of something supernatural. Could the renovations done to your home actually have been a proper… exorcism? Were your parents just trying to keep the truth from you for your sake? 

It would bother Dean forever. Maybe someday he’d meet your mother or father. Maybe he’d ask for the truth and know all the answers. 

He’d opened the door and entered his home, his mood more elevated than usual. He spotted you on the couch with your hair tied messily to conceal your bedhead. He thought you looked beautiful as you stared intently at the television, at a rerun of some Avengers movie.

You tore your eyes away from the screen, weary, then pleasantly surprised. “I thought you were at work…”

“Nah.” He plopped down next to you and smiled. Your mood brightened visibly. He smirked at you and you averted your eyes coyly, biting back a smile.

“I was gonna leave… but I don’t trust Uber drivers and also… you drove me here,” you explained sheepishly while playing with the hem of your jeans. Dean could feel the heat on your face, but he also felt an ice cold grip on his heart that made him desperate and wary. You were gonna leave?

“I can’t let you leave,” he blurted out. 

You leaned back and frowned. “What? Why not?” 

“I don’t think it’s safe for you,” he began explaining, stopping the words you would have spoken. “What if there’s more vampires after you? What if I didn’t get them all? What if they hurt you? I can’t let you go out there without being a hundred percent sure I’m not sending you out there to die.”

You opened your mouth again and he could see you wanted to argue this time. You looked irritated, but he wasn’t gonna listen to you the way he typically did. You didn’t know how dangerous it was out there and he’d been living in the romantic bubble of your beauty that he’d forgotten just how terrifying the world was for someone mortal. “I don’t know how long you’ll have to stay, but you’ll be safer here, with me. Make yourself at home, if you need anything, I’ll get it for you.” 

“You don’t actually expect me to stay with you for… God knows how long, do you?” You asked incredulously. You sat up straight to gauge his seriousness, and deep in the green of his eyes, shone his distress. 

He ignored you and fished your pill bottle out of his pocket. He held them out for you and said: “Here. I’m serious. Don’t think about going anywhere if I’m not with you.”

You stared at the bottle in bewilderment and took it from him. You read the information, verifying that they were yours, and your eyes snapped up to meet his own. “You were in… my house? How did you get in?”

“You hungry?” He opted for changing the subject. He wanted to avoid that subject at all costs. He didn’t want to lie to you, but he also didn’t want to tell you the truth. You’d try dozens of times harder to run away from him if you discovered anything about his… infatuation with you. 

You were quiet and deep in thought. You looked angry, but maybe it was a little more than pissed off. Was he making you angry? Who was he kidding? Of course he was. He was preventing you from living your life and forcing you to live by his rules. “Will I be able to get back to work?”

No one wants to work, Dean glared at you. “You can go, but I’ll drop you off and pick you up-”

“But-”

“Taking care of you isn’t a burden to me-” because he loves you “-I’m  a vampire, I have more than enough time for you.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He rolled his eyes at you.

“I don’t like it when you do things for me… it… makes me uncomfortable,” you disclosed tensely. He understood what it felt like, but he needed to keep you safe. It was more than just doing things for you to him, it was saving your life, keeping you safe. Why did you not fear for your life the way he did? And why did you have to feel uncomfortable with him dedicating a few moments of his painfully, endless life to helping you? He made sure to never make you feel like there needed to be an exchange of favours between you and him.

“Why not? You won’t owe me anything.”

“In this instance, I just find it irritating,” you said between clenched teeth, balling your hands into tight fists. It was cute to him, but pointing it out or acknowledging it probably would have made you furious. 

“Well, tough,” he shrugged and relaxed on the couch to signal the end of the conversation. Dean stared at the television as Steve Rogers gripped the helicopter to stop Bucky. You clenched your jaw and breathed in and out angrily.

You seethed silently beside him for thirty minutes and he was becoming more and more amused by your determination to stay angry. Your phone rang on the couch and snapped the tension that had been growing between the two of you. You stared at it with a glare and silenced it without lifting to check who it was.

“Answer,” he ordered gruffly.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you snapped. He grabbed your phone and rolled his eyes when he saw Clayton’s name. 

“It’s your boyfriend,” he informed you venomously.

“Shut up,” you hissed, snatching your cell phone from him aggressively. “What if I ask for help, what if I tell him you won’t let me leave.”

Dean grabbed your wrist so you wouldn’t answer just yet and leaned into you until your warm breath touched his lips. He growled, “I’ll kill him and anyone else who tries to get close to you.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” you whispered, but continued to hold his gaze bravely. The phone stopped and no longer showed Clayton was calling you. Instead, he began to send you messages. 

You were right. He wouldn’t kill anyone, but if it kept you from trying to do anything stupid, he’d let you think so. “Now’s not the best time to test how far I’ll go to keep you safe.” 

He let your wrist go and you continued to stare at him with a mixture of emotions. You conceded and calmly replied to Clayton with a sigh. He read what you sent in response, you avoided conversation about Dean’s vampirism and the deaths despite Clayton’s probing questions, until he finally stopped. Dean felt happier when he read your final message to him: i don’t think we should see each other again, on a date. you were amazing, but our dreams and hopes for the future aren’t the same. I hope you meet someone who will fulfil them. Friendship is on the table, we could go back to that, if you cannot, i will understand.

Clayton’s response was as respectful and kind as Dean expected. Dean couldn't be mad and he couldn’t even hate him either. At least you knew how to choose good people to surround yourself with. Maybe you made a bad choice with Dean, but the few people you surrounded yourself with and allowed into your life were typically good, loved you, and had your best interests at heart.

Dean watched you as you moved attention towards the movie. Your irritation had passed and you continued to watch the movie in silence. “So… I know I ruined the date… and your chances of a second date, but… how was it?”

Your response was random, but quick, like you’d been thinking about it for a while: “He really loved his nephew…” 

“So?” Dean was lost. Didn’t women believe that men being great with kids was a good thing?

“I can’t have kids…” You whispered with a tone of grief. Dean’s face fell and his heart ached at the resignation in your voice. “I can have children,” you corrected yourself quietly, “but there’s a high probability I’ll pass on what I have. It’s genetic, I would never be able to live with myself if my baby was sick and suffering for the rest of its life because I was selfish. It’s better for Clayton that we never see each other… because I’d never be able to give him that. Even if he did convince me to be selfish, I could die because my body wouldn’t be able to sustain the pregnancy.” You paused and wiped away tears from your eyes while avoiding his gaze. You were embarrassed by your display of emotions. You shouldn’t be, you look beautiful when you cry, Dean thought. “Do you think I’m a coward?”

“No,” he murmured. “Letting someone you love go… that’s braver than sticking around and making them miserable.” And that’s why Dean wasn’t brave. He couldn’t bear to let you go if it meant your life was in danger. He’d rather you be miserable with him than dead without him.

24 January, 2024 — Wednesday

You stayed home—his home—while he went to work for the day. In the time he had spent with you, studying you more closely, Dean learned that you were a clean freak, but also that you had a habit of cleaning more often when you were stressed or avoiding something. 

He thought nothing of it, and let you go crazy with thoroughly dusting shelves, sweeping the floors, washing his and your clothes, and cleaning the bathroom. You were impressive. He liked to watch you organise and reorganise the stuff on his shelves, his books, his closet, absolutely anything you could get your hands on.

You could act tough and sarcastic all you wanted, but since trapping you in his house, he learned that you were sensitive. Your heart was tender, an open wound, and anything could make you cry. You tried to hide it, he could feel your face heat up with shame whenever you were quick to tears, while watching a movie, or hearing a story he’d tell you, or whatever it was that you’d witnessed. 

He’d been in such bliss hearing you sing and hum to yourself as you kept busy. He obsessed over your laughter, your dark humour, and found that it was fairly easy to make you laugh. You laughed a lot and he knew some of it was because you were trying to avoid being sad in front of him. 

He’d hear you cry at night, quietly to yourself. And he wondered if it was him who had caused you all that pain. But the morning would rise and you were smiling and careless again. Always trying to hide your weaknesses from him, your hurt and your desolation masked by laughter and humour. 

It didn’t take long for him to realise that whenever your symptoms were uncontrollable, when you had flare ups, you would feel grief and despair. Every time, anew. Your bones would ache preventing you from adventuring, your appetite would decrease preventing you from trying something good, and you’d be so tired you’d spend most of your time in bed. 

Having your disease take control of how you had to live your life, took a toll on your mental health. Now that he was seeing the debilitating condition that you could be in, at random, he understood your desire for control. 

He was surprised at how alone you actually were. Not once had you been called by your friends, not once have they asked about you, not once have they messaged you. He thought you were taking his threat too seriously and avoiding them for their safety, but once he’d assured you that you had the freedom to update them, you told him you knew that already. So why haven’t they checked up on you?

You’d confessed, with a joke and a laugh, about how you were “cursed” to have most of your friendships fall apart, and attempts to save your friendships were done to no avail. Your few friendships weren’t even close to being actual friendships, not to him. Could he compare his friends to yours? 

Hunting made relationships more meaningful than he previously thought. But maybe the life and death of it all made friendships he had much stronger than a typical person would have experienced. Maybe in the real world, outside of death and loss and fear, someone like you could give until you were bereft and you would be given nothing in return because… well, why?

Because they didn’t want you had to give. Because they didn’t want to respect your boundaries. Because they wanted more than you could ever imagine giving of yourself. Because they felt entitled to your love. They’d prefer to hate you than take what you had to offer of yourself. They’d rather hurt you than to cherish what you revealed of yourself. They’d rather steal your ability to refuse than to accept what you were willing to give. They’d prefer to erase everything that you were, to mould you into something that would fit into their idea of what you should be to them. 

And you were terrified that everyone you befriended would treat you that way again. That they didn’t want you for who you were, but valued you for what you could do for them, what you could fulfil in the emptiness of their miserable lives. You were afraid that they would break your heart and make you an object to later be abandoned and destroyed. 

You were too embarrassed to show that weakness because you were humiliated and betrayed by people you trusted. You hid your pain and your hurt, and feigned something else entirely because others made you feel like a burden. You downplayed your feelings and experiences, you made jokes out of your pain, because they had invalidated your feelings. 

You disguised yourself as anything you needed to be for someone else because you felt that you were never enough. They made you feel that way. Even if they were gone from your life, they still changed everything that you were. You were so sick of it, you gave up on trying to be everything for everyone, and decided to keep your own peace and keep to yourself. 

In your experience, friendship and love weren’t as beautiful as their definitions. 

He wanted to take your face in his hands and kiss you until you believed in it again. If you’d met him before, if you lived a different life—one like his, if the circumstances were different—and he wasn’t holding you hostage, he could show you friendship and love were as perfect as their meanings claimed. 

But he’d screwed it all up. He always did. 

A few weeks ago, disaster struck in the midst of his little slice of heaven with you. You’d been a million times more furious than you’d been since he prevented you from leaving. 

It was easy to pretend that you and him had a more intimate relationship than was true. He cooked for you, you cooked for him. He cleaned up after you, you cleaned up after him. You’d hang out together and share stories and movies and thoughts. You wanted his clothes and he’d iron yours, and vice versa. It was like marriage, except you never kissed or had sex with each other. 

He’d forgotten completely about that decorated shoebox he kept under his bed. He’d never imagined that you’d be so interested in an old raggedy box he owned, not enough to look through it. But you were and you did, and you found the little odds and ends—and the lingerie—he’d stolen from your home.

Of course, if you had a worse memory, you’d have thought he stole it the day he got your pills. But you remembered clearly that you’d been missing those trinkets for months. Months. 

“How long have you been stalking me?” You stomped into the driveway where Dean was changing the oil to his gorgeous Impala. He popped out, covered in grease and dirt, and stared at you in bewilderment. You looked disappointed and angry. “Don’t lie to me. I know everything.” You shoved the familiar box into his chest, where your underwear was peeking out from the lid quickly shut.

He couldn’t lie to you, he didn’t want to. He’d attempted to get you to see that he wasn’t like everyone else in your life, but it was close to impossible. The disenchantment that followed ached because it was difficult to make his actions and behaviour seem otherwise. It looked bad for him. 

All he could do was give you time and space. And he’d give you the entire fabric of time and space knowing he’d outlive your anger with him. He’d wait an eternity until you forgave him, until you saw him for who he really was. This universe was not made to hold you and him together, maybe somewhere out there in the infinite branches of the multiverse he did everything right and you were his.

He knew the instant you’d gotten over it. The instant that you’d forgiven him, it was still surprising. He’d been crashing on the couch and left his room to you, his bed was all yours. It was cold still and he could hear the heater in the room whirring.

He’d stared up at the ceiling boredly. He figured he could probably go back to one of his old hobbies now that you lived with him. He couldn’t really keep watching you the way he used to anymore. Well, he could. But you felt uncomfortable with him doing that, so he stopped.

But tonight, he heard you shuffling downstairs and heard the soft fluff of a blanket stuffed in your arms. He closed his eyes and pretended to rest as you came down lazily, making your way blindly through the living room in the dark.

He heard you muttering curses when you walked into something and his lips twitched upwards. Eventually, he felt you in front of the couch he was laying on. 

“Dean?” You murmured, lazily pulling the blanket over yourself so you wouldn’t be uncomfortably cold. 

“What?” He grunted, his pretend-sleep voice deepened.

“I can’t sleep, can I stay here?” Your request shook him to his core. His eyes snapped open and he watched you in the darkness. You shivered despite your body being covered in a thick, warm blanket and you nibbled on your lip as you waited for his response. He expected your forgiveness to be more… subtle and also… he expected your forgiveness much later. 

“Yeah,” he whispered. And then you threw the blanket over the couch and he felt your warm body move over his own, his eyes widened. Your knee dipped into the couch beside his waist and the other pressed between his legs.

Your hands moved flat on his chest and you whispered his name before resting yourself entirely on his body. He could feel the heat on your skin and you sighed as his coldness spread over your body. He brought his hands down to your waist where he could feel your soft skin above your underwear. Damn it. 

“I forgive you,” you mumbled sleepily, but the earnestness in your voice made his heart clench. Why would you forgive him now? So quickly? So abruptly? “Happy birthday.” 

Now

Dean hated the summer. 

The sting of the sun against his skin and the sensitivity of light to his eyes made it impossible to enjoy.

The only upside was that he was your personal cooler. You took every opportunity to hunt him down when the fans and the AC did nothing to stop you from sweating, and you wrapped yourself completely around him. 

You no longer complained about the way Dean managed your life to keep you safe. You no longer questioned whether he’d hunted and killed every last vampire that was after him and you. You’d completely forgiven his creepy behaviour and had completely accepted him as he was. 

The only misfortune was that you didn’t love him the way he wished you would. You cared for him, you were gentle, you listened, you were loyal, and you were kind. He could imagine romance in your every loving interaction and dialogue, but he would always be a miserable fool—so long as he chooses to perceive, interpret, and read between your words to confirm his biassed belief. 

More to the point, he hated the summer. That’s where he was. 

But you wanted to enjoy a day outside and had asked him to go out on a picnic together. So he internally whined and grumbled, but outwardly he helped you prepare the food and clean up before you left to a spot of his choosing.

If you wanted to get out, he’d choose a spot that he could enjoy himself in and make you happy at the same time. 

You were far more comfortable around him, now. It’s like the stalking he had done was completely forgotten about by you. He didn’t dare to bring it up or say anything about it. He wanted it to stay gone from both of your lives. 

Dean turned when a loud breath puffed past your pouting lips. He watched you give up on trying to take the jar of honey from its place on the shelf. You turned a few seconds after to address him, “I can’t reach the top shelf.. Can you… help?”

He could feel and hear the furious heat on your cheeks, your embarrassment to be observed as being unable to do something flamed on your face. He smiled tentatively, not wanting to embarrass you farther and made his way to you. 

Your warm fingers touched his cold skin when you took the jar from his hands. You stared up at him, amused and playfully irked. “You’re so lucky to be tall.”

There were an infinite amount of moments in which he wanted to kiss you. And this was one of them. However, you didn’t want him that way, so he rolled his eyes at you instead and made his way back to the table to prepare a few more snacks.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured gruffly, and smiled to himself when you giggled wickedly. 

“So… is there anything that tastes relatively good to you, still?” You inquired as you spread honey over a scone he had made a few hours before. You watched him slice the crust off bread and stopped him with your hand around his wrist. “Wait, what are you doing?”

“Cutting the crust off the sandwich?” He replied, confused. He tried not to linger on the way your touch spread your heat through him. 

“Why? …I like the crust,” you informed him. “You’re so weird.”

“Me? You’re the weird one,” he laughed in disbelief. “Who the hell likes the crust?”

“It evens out the flavour!” You argued with a laugh.

“Evens out the-?” He burst out laughing. “It’s dry, and flavourless, and has a completely different texture, and-”

“Well, I like it!” 

Not long after that, the two of you rode in the Impala to a secluded location he’d found while hunting once—to feed. It was safe for him and for you. The areas was surrounded by trees that partially hid the sun’s stinging touch, and contained a large field of green grass that would be perfect for a picnic. 

You’d pulled out cassette tape after cassette tape, thinking long and hard about which one would be perfect for the long ride there. You settled for Metallica after debating between AC/DC, Led Zeppelin, and Fleetwood Mac.

You occasionally sang along or tapped your finger as you stared out the window curiously. The wind whipped the delicious scent of you in his face, your flowery hair, minty breath, sweet skin, and coppery blood beneath your skin invaded his senses. You intoxicated him in the best way and he was enraptured by your beauty. 

Once he’d driven to the wide green land, he opened the door for you and you smiled at him with gratitude. He takes your hand and subtly admires you in your white dress with tiny pink flowers printed over it as he helps you out of his car. 

You blink when he takes your hand and kisses your wrist. He liked the smell of your blood, and it rushed through your veins faster as your brain processed what he was doing. But the scent of blood on your wrist was smothered by something flowery and familiar. Your perfume. 

He didn’t mind too much and then he moved away from you. You were stunned for a few moments as the sun brightened your features. He could stare at you forever. 

When you regained your composure, you hid beneath a massive green tree, protecting yourself from the scalding sun rays of the summertime as you watch him inhumanly move to fix everything properly in its place for you.

Once he had everything laid out for the perfect picnic day with you, he walked over to you, and grinned. You returned the same smile and walked with him as you talked about which fruit or flavour would be strange for a pie. 

He sat beside you on the soft, faded green and white striped blanket beneath. You smoothed your palm over a few bumps as he took out a bottle of cheap wine he’d found and some goldfish crackers—he missed the flavours of junk food. 

You took the bag from him and immediately began to eat the tiny colourful fish when you pulled the bag open. And he succeeded in opening the bottle. He poured some in a glass for you, for him, and shoved it back into the green cooler he was too fond of to get rid of. 

He stared at you as your squinted your eyes at the sky. Birds flew above and he would have liked to see them dance around each other and sing, but he was so focused on the line of your jaw, and the curl of your small ear, and the fond smile on your pink lips. 

Why was he still holding you against your will? Why couldn’t he just let you go so you could live your life? He was sure, more so than he wanted to admit to himself—or you, that you were safe. You look so happy when you are outside. When you get to pretend that you're normal. When he lags behind at the grocery store to make you believe you are free…

Why is he so greedy with you? Why do you fill him with gluttony and avarice? Why did he have to break every rule and be selfish? Why couldn’t you and him have met in different circumstances? Why couldn’t he still be human? Why couldn’t he give you the life he wanted for you, the life he thought you deserved? And why did he not care now that keeping you with him was doing the opposite of that?

Why did nothing make sense anymore? Why did he keep you for so long? It feels even more painful to get away from you. Like two different objects melted together, ripping you apart from him would be difficult and devastating. 

“Hey, what if we make rice crispy treats and snickerdoodle cookies?” You asked, digging into the basket for a bowl of cherries. “I know we don’t have marshmallows, but it’d be nice to head into town and get some afterwards?” You were timid as you made the suggestion and played with two red cherries between your fingers. 

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to let you go. 

“You can go on your own,” he braced himself and looked away from you to save himself. He needed to build up to it. Slowly, he needed to pry you off him, to get rid of the way he’d accustomed you to depend on him for everything. 

“But…” you trailed off, surprised. “Don’t you…? Are you tired of baking- Sorry, I guess it’s probably not very fun to bake at home for fun when you bake at work for business…”

“That’s not it,” he reassured you. “You can do it alone. I’ll be busy this week and on the weekend.” No, he wouldn’t be. But he could be, to wean himself off you, too. This wasn’t healthy. This wasn’t fair to you.

You were quiet, he’d heard you eating a few of the cherries you’d plucked; by the last one you could barely swallow. Like a knot had formed and the cherry made it thicker in your throat. You stared at him, he could feel your gaze as he avoided your gaze and the sun. 

“Are…?” You whispered, tempting him to look at you. “Are you getting bored of me?” You asked quietly. Dean could feel heat and blood rush to your face, and your beginning to beat rapidly—tell-tale signs that you were becoming emotional. He snapped his head around to stare at you, shocked. 

He took your warm, sticky and red stained hand and squeezed gently. “No! Of course not.” 

You gazed at him with uncertainty, but squeezed his hand in return. He turned his body towards you and invited you into his arms. You cautiously moved closer and allowed him to wrap his arm around your shoulder. You mumbled against his shoulder: “Are they back?”

“No, you’re safe. Promise.” He lifted your red stained fingers and kissed the tips, allowing the cherries’ sweetness to reside on his dead lips. You took the opportunity to take his face in your hand and looked into his eyes for a few seconds.

Your warmth made his eyes flutter shut and he leaned into your touch. God… you were everything. “Did I do something to upset you?”

His eyes opened. He looked into your piercing eyes as you asked for the truth, to understand why he would now suddenly allow you to do something by yourself. He saw the fear in your eyes and the nervousness to find something that would confirm that it was somehow her fault. 

“No,” he murmured, shifting his face to kiss your palm. “There’s nothing wrong, okay? You didn’t do anything. I just won't force you to do anything you don’t want to do, not anymore. I won’t stop you. You can leave now… You can go back home. I won’t make you stay.” 

“Sounds an awful lot like I’m annoying you…” you trailed off, dejected, pulling your hand away from his face. He grabbed it swiftly, returned it to his cheek, and held it there. 

“I promise you, that’s not it.” He tried to smile and laugh, but it sounded far too sad. You could see something was wrong, even if he tried to hide it. Why did you see through him so easily?

“Why won’t you tell me?” You uttered, almost silently. He looked away from you, but continued to hold your warm hand to his face. He pressed your touch closer to his cheek, impossibly cold so your warm began to feel cold like him. 

“You’ll hate me,” he whispered. 

“Please,” you begged, sliding your hand out of his grasp to thread your fingers through his hair. He looked down at you, his body was on the precipice of an impossible shiver at your touch. “Don’t leave me. Don’t make me leave you.” You turned to face him completely and held your other hand to the base of his throat. He was forced to look up at you as you pleaded, “Dean.”

He inhaled and held it, overwhelmed by your touch and heat. He reached for your hips, held on tightly, and pulled you closer to him. Your face became hot and your heart thudded heavily in your chest at the proximity. 

“You already know,” he speculated, releasing his breath as he spoke. He brought your body closer, so it touched his own, and your breathing became uneven. He needed to cherish this proximity before you were gone from his life.

“So say it. Tell me,” you demanded gently, flustered and sad all at once. He brushed your hair away from your face and memorised how you looked this close to him. He held you firmly, close to him with one hand on your hip. “I could never hate you.”

“I can’t,” he refused quietly. Your heartbeat was loud and fast, but not louder than your words. 

You said: “Then, I’ll show you.” 

Time had never felt like this before to him. Overwhelmingly fast and infuriatingly slow. He knew what was coming and it was unexpected. Your lips touched his and he’d never felt your warmth this close before, never breathed your fresh air this way before, never tasted the flavour of you like this before. 

All he knew was that he’d never tire of it. 

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[mustainegf]

Can yoh do a dave fluff where dave has wronged you some way and both of yall are like teens. He's in grade 12 and your in grade 11 so like 17 and 16. And dave never comes to prom but when u were there you spot him outta the corny of your eye and he's sad/crying holding a bouquet of flowers hoping for forgiveness.and when u go up to him and forgiv you just dance and hold eachother. While he's just all "I missed you I'm sorry" ect

THIS IS SO CUTE I love dave so much so I spent a lot of time on this one

Wrote this listening to nutshell—Alice in chains cuz it felt fitting

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 ¹⁹⁷⁸

The end of the school year was always this sort of meld of excitement for the summer break, nostalgia for the last few months, and a bit of sadness knowing that it was all ending. This year though, it was different. With the upcoming prom looming in the Future, the thought of saying goodbye to friends… particularly Dave, because he would be graduating had me feeling very off balance. This should have been a time for celebration, but somehow the wave length between us had shifted, and I wasn't exactly sure how to fix it.

Dave and I had been inseparable since middle school. The best friend who was always there to make me laugh, to understand my weird sense of humor, and who knew all my secrets. We were different in lots of ways, he was so loud and confident, the guy everybody wanted to know, and I was quieter, more comfortable in the shadows, but with him, I always felt seen.

But lately, something had changed. I wasn't even sure when it began. Perhaps it was back during one of those late night hangouts that got more complicated every year, or maybe it was just the way life makes its own way as you grow up. Whatever it was, it had forged a gulf between us.

The last time we spoke, really spoke, was weeks ago. I had asked him about prom, half teasingly asking him who he would ask. He just shrugged off, saying he wasn't going.

I hadn't been surprised at that, prom didn't seem like his scene. What had surprised me was the way he'd brushed me off, like he couldn't even really be bothered to talk about it. And when I kept pushing, trying to get him to open up, he snapped. He told me to back off, that I should stop acting like I knew what was good for him.

His words stung more than I really wanted to admit. I snapped back, telling him that maybe I didn't know what was best for him, but at least I cared.

That was the last time we spoke. Since then, he'd been avoiding me, and I was too stubborn, maybe too hurt, to reach out.

So, prom night came, still not a sound from him. Perhaps foolishly, I had held onto the hope that he'd at least call or toss a rock at my bedroom window late at night like he always did. But it was all nothing.

I wasn't completely convinced that I even wanted to go to prom after the whole thing with Dave, but my friends were really pressuring me. They bugged me about it, saying I should go, to stop moping around, that it was going to be fun. So, I let them drag me along, dressed in the pale blue gown my mom had insisted on buying, with my hair done up in curls that felt too formal, too unlike me.

The gym looked unrecognizable, twinkling lights falling from the ceiling in threads, a dance floor made hastily, shimmering tables draped in white cloths, roses and candles bunched together in the middle of each one.

Everybody looked great, having dressed up and wearing a wonderfully exciting glow on their faces. However, it just didn’t feel complete, no matter how much laughter and music filled the air.

Deep down I longed for his familiar sleep of leather and cigarettes, that hint of coffee. To see his fiery curls bounce as he laughed at something immature.

I danced for the first hour, trying to have some fun. My friends dragged me onto the dance floor, I wore a smile, although it wasn’t really from my heart. I'd keep looking around, scanning the room, although I knew very well that Dave wouldn't show up. He had said so himself, and I had taken him at his word. Still, I couldn't help looking, hoping.

The night was slipping away, so I began the fight to slip away for some air. I managed to fight my way free to the edge of the room, the shadows deeper, the music less loud. That was when I saw him.

Dave was by the door, almost merged with the shadows, awkwardly clutching a bouquet of flowers. He stood there, completely out of place in his handsome black suit, with nearly lost eyes, looking soft now when his usual attitude of rebellion was replaced.

His hair was a bit disheveled, as though he had run his hands through it in a state of nervousness, and his eyes… his hazel eyes were reddened, like he had been crying.

I stared for a moment, hesitation in my mind about whether or not this was him. Then our eyes met, and his sadness almost took my breath like a blow in the chest. He was here. He really was here, and he looked so broken.

I approached him step by step, without thinking further. Each step seemed like a year, and his eyes never left mine.

Up close, I could see the stress in his jaw and the way his hands were shaking with the flowers. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like he wanted to say something but couldn't really find any words.

Finally, he whispered, "I'm sorry.”

Two words, only two, yet they carried the weight of all that had preceded them. I wanted to cry, but I blinked away the hot sting.

"Dave…" My voice broke, and it took a swallow before I could continue. "What are you doing here?"

His shoulders slumped as the weight of the world finally came to rest upon them. "I told myself I wouldn't but… I had to see you."

I looked down at a bouquet in his hands. A messy mixture of flowers, which didn't really agree with each other but somehow made sense in his palm. They were beautiful in one way, wild and untamed, just like him.

"Are these for me?" I asked, trying to keep my voice still and vigilant.

Nodding, he gazed down at the floor. "I was gonna take 'em to your place. I know it sounds stupid, but… I guess I was hopin' you might forgive me. For being a dick."

This was what I had always seen in Dave, the duality of nature, who could be so strong and fierce, yet very soft and so unsure of himself, who cared but didn’t for the life of him know how to show it.

"Why not just talk to me?" I whispered faintly.

He lifted his face then, and the raw emotion swimming in his eyes nearly undid me. "I don't know. I thought… you were better off without my ass."

"Dave," I said, stepping close, close enough to feel the warmth of his body through his suit. "You're my best friend. You could never drag me down. I've missed you so much. And I love you."

He drew in a breath, his shaking hand holding out the flowers. "I don't really deserve your forgiveness, but I'm asking for it anyway. Because I love you too…”

The earnestness in his voice, the way his eyes shone with tears he repeatedly blinked away, broke through the last of my defenses. I took the bouquet from his hands, my fingers brushed against his.

"I forgive you," I said, meaning every word. "I just want things to be okay between us again. I've missed you so much, Dave."

HIs breath caught, and suddenly he was tugging me into his arms, squeezing me tight. It was the first time he’d ever hugged me.

I wound my arms tight around him, pressing my face into his chest, inhaling the scent of him. Faint leather, and the usual faint musk of cigarettes was replaced with cologne.

"I missed you too," he whispered against my hair.

Finally, he pulled back far enough to see me. His eyes were still red, but the depression in them had been mellowed and replaced by something warmer, something that made my heart skip a beat.

"Will you dance with me?" he whispered, he was afraid of breaking the spell.

I nodded, feeling that I couldn't trust my voice. He took my hand and led me off to the edge of the dance floor, where it was dark and the music wasn't so loud. He took me in his arms and something about this felt right, being this intimate.

As we began to dance, he held me, his hands firm on my hips. I laid my head against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. It was all so familiar, despite it being my first time hearing it.

"I was afraid of losing you," he admitted. "Afraid I'd already lost you. That's why I thought if I pushed away, it wouldn't hurt as bad that way.”

I grabbed him harder, feeling my heart break for the amount of pain he'd been lugging around. "You never lost me, and you never will."

He breathed shakily as he continued. "You’re the best thing in my life, and I’ve been a prick.”

"Yeah," I teased, looking up through my lashes at him, with a little smile. "You kind of have been."

He chuckled, the movement rumbling in his chest. "I deserve that.”

"But I'm glad you're here now," I added. “Please, don’t leave me again.”

“Never.”

[thehistoriangirl]

Hi!

Could you write something for Viktor in this Father's Day please??

Thank you so much, have a great day 🖤

Hi anon! For sure :3 I hope you like it

Little Genius

Viktor x Fem!Reader---1.4K----SFW

Tags: Established Relationship (they're married) | Pregnancy | Fluff | Viktor would be such a great dad yall can't change my mind | Happy Father's day to all who celebrate :3 | This is not proofread at all bc Father's Day is over in less than an hour i'm sorryyyy ;---; |

Viktor felt your head nudging against his side, making him lower the book he was reading since yesterday—since you had finished it without waiting for him to read it out loud. A small betrayal Viktor washed away with your extra long session of kisses after dinner.

He reached to turn off the lamp, your hand brushing his before he could pull the tiny rope. Golden eyes took in your alert face, body wiggling closer to him so Viktor could rest his right leg over your hip.

His hum reverberated in your whole body due to the closeness of your cheek and his chest, heart beating content as you melted against the soft touches, the nonsensical patterns he drew against the thin, worn-out fabric of your pajamas.

“Not tired yet?” he asked, looking at the clock hung on the wall almost reaching midnight.

“I want to show you something,” you said, fiddling with the loose threads of his favorite blanket, the one he packed from his house in Zaun and kept in Piltover, even now.

He mourned the sudden loss of your warmth once you incorporated in your elbows, reaching for the nightstand on your side of the bed. Though curiosity made his golden eyes twinkle as your fingers scouted the insides of the last drawer.

“What is it?” Viktor peeked over your shoulder, seeing your hand gently cradling a small, white box tied close with a golden ribbon. “Are you going to propose, my love? Because I’m sorry to tell you this, but I beat you to it around two years ago,” he chuckled, rubbing with his thumb over the golden band decorating a finger in your left hand. Soft, slightly dry lips kissing the reverse of your palm once you glared playfully at him.

“You’re not funny,” you said, thought your curved lips testified completely the opposite.

“I hate to argue with the love of my life, but I am. Otherwise I wouldn’t have win you over.”

“Well, what if I say that you win me over with your terrible jokes?”

Viktor feigned a deep betrayal just like they were represented in the Opera House; hand clutching his shirt over his heart, closing his eyes while his face twisted in a grimace of hurt. “Your words break my heart.” His hands enveloped your waist, pulling you against his chest. “You better have a plan to wound up my poor heart. Your devote lover is very sensible.”

You beamed at him, eyes crinkled in crescents. “I do have one.” Wriggling against his tangled hug, you sat with your legs crossed, settled right in front of Viktor, putting the box on his chest. “Open it.”

The mysterious object was covered with a layer of paper, and for a few moments all that it could be heard inside your shared room was the wrinkled paper being pushed away to reveal the gift.

“Huh?” Viktor frowned, his fingers brushing the softest fabric as he raised the clothing out the box to see it against the light of the bright, golden lamp.

A vivid, burnt yellow bib made of crochet in a pattern oddly familiar for his own baby clothes kept inside a bag under his mother’s bed back in Zaun. The lettering read: Papa’s Little Genius.

He gazed at you, founding your expression of pressed lips about to burst into giggles. “My love?”

“Do you know what day is today?” you said, brushing the empty box away to straddle his hips.

“Sunday?” He could barely articulate any words with your comfortable weight pressed against him.

You lowered over his chest, nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck and nibbling on his ear just for the fun to see his pale skin flush deep crimson every time. “It’s Father’s Day,” your voice sent shivers down his spine, goosebumps traveling all over his body as his body torn between your allure making pool molten desire down his stomach, and his brain scrambling around by your shushed words.

“Father’s…” he said, holding your shoulders as he looked down toward you and over the bib resting on the pillow next to him. His golden eyes opened, a gasp hitching his already quickening breath. “Are you… you… I… we…”

You burst out laughing, your vision became blurry with the halo of tears pooling in your eyes. “Yes...,” you whispered, as if it were such a delicate thing, a dream, almost, that if talking too loud about it would make it disappear. “You’re going to be a Papa very soon.”

His teary eyes matched yours as he hugged him flush against him, taking in the smell of your hair, how perfectly he feels blessed at just basking in your presence. And now, not only had you given him your whole body and soul and heart. No, you were about to give him a legacy—a future carved in his blood and flesh.

A child.

His child.

His rough fingerpads caressed your cheeks, wishing to take in every little detail about this moment so he could treasure it for eternity.

“I thought I was the luckiest person in the whole world when you accepted to be my spouse, but now?” He laughed, wiping your tears away. “Now words can’t describe how I feel knowing that you’re carrying our baby.”

Viktor chuckled, his smile that one of a child’s that had just discovered the wonders of life for the first time. His hand cradling your belly.

“Hi, little one,” he muttered, almost afraid to cause a bad impression to his unborn baby. Fingers gently caressing the soft skin under your shirt. “I’m your Papa. Hi,” Viktor repeated, finding himself in a loss of words. “I… I promise I’m going to read a lot of books about parenting, and that I’m going to come up with pretty toys for you, and I promise that I will make daily time to play with you… and sing to you… and tucking you to bed,” his voice broke, a knot straining his throat. “I don’t know anything about being a father, but I promise you I will be the best for you, little one.”

With a groan, he sat on the bed, lowering his head to kiss your belly, hands interlocked in the small of your back. “Only the best for you and your stunning mother. I hope you look just like her,” he said with a chuckle. “Though I will struggle to ground if that occurs… hmm, just be easy on me, alright?”

He looked up at you, eyes full of wonder and pure, unfiltered adoration.

“I just know about them, but I already love them so,” Viktor confessed, caressing your hair, his hands pulling down your chin so his lips could encounter yours. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He mumbled between kisses of all kind—as soft as the brush of a feather, bold ones with his teeth biting your bottom lip, his tongue exploring your mouth in a slow, sensual dance. “I love you. I love you both,” he corrected, patting your belly.

“Do you like the bib?” you hummed, and he laughed. “Your mother scold me a lot because I kept getting lost while knitting the pattern.

“I knew I recognized that style.” He scanned the bib, arching a playful eyebrow toward you. “Little Genius, eh? Pretty high standards, don’t you think?”

You roll your eyes, swatting his chest lightly. “You say that as if you won’t let them see all your blueprints and chalkboards full of equations the moment they’re born.”

Viktor’s heart fluttered at the thought. He would have to babyproof his studio—and for sure his child wouldn’t step inside the lab without a full-body protective uniform, but the thought of sharing with someone else besides you about his vision of the world and the place he had in it made him feel like he was inside paradise.

A personal goal to make this world much happier, and safer, and fairer.

His baby’s world.

“I love you,” he said, kissing your whole face with delicate kisses that poured out everything words could never express. His devotion. His love. Everything. “I will never be able to pay you back for this…this miracle.”

“I don’t want you to pay me back,” you said, hands resting over his quickly-beating heart. “I love you, too. And your love for both of us is more than enough.”

He smiled widely, showing you that grin you adored so much, that made you melt and wish you could, too, give him the whole world.

“How lucky I am,” he hummed, settling you against his chest. “To have my whole universe safely resting in my arms.”

[skyjasper]

The Devil and I

Reader X Azriel

Summary: the time for war has come, yet her powers have not. What will she do when everyone she loves, including her mate, is suffering on the battlefield below.

Warnings: gore, violence, light NSFW, talks of sex.

A/N: ik yall wanted a new AZ one shot soooo here you are :))) this is based off of the song Me and the Devil. If you wanna check out my other works you can do so here:

Masterlist.

Word count: 1.07 K (short IK)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The war raged on the battlefield below her, screams of agony wailing through the wind. She was completely powerless as her mate fought. She watched her high lord cast waves of his power, killing multiple as he engaged in combat. She was on her knees, hands digging into the land below her. She heard Azriels roaring scream all the way from her cliff top.

“Please Mother. I beg for some forgiveness, please give me a tool to help fight. We are losing, I can’t stand by. Please Mother, grant me the powers that were stolen from you by my ancestors for promise I will return it.” She whispered into the grass with her head bowed. 

Something tugged on her hands, pulling her fingers into the land. A small scream escaped her before the rest of her was covered with roots and dirt. Her body was pulled deep into the ground, small bugs crawling over her. She couldn’t scream, couldn’t move as something forced its way down her mouth. 

Dirt and dust filled her body, humming as if to say if you want power so bad then have it. Then her body was being forced out of the ground, new things adorned her body. Cufflinks made of root and tree wrapped itself around her arms. Her former clothing, now replaced by a garment made of leaves and flowers, covering the most delicate parts of her.

Vines raked up her legs and around her body, hounding her together. Her hair was now braided down her back with vines and flowers growing out of her hair, the top of her head was now adorned with a crown made of tree twigs and cones. 

She felt the power flowing through her body, thrumming under her skin. A large root grew out of the ground where she stood, lifting her into the air. She felt more than heard the silence on both fronts. When she looked down she was met with a ground looking back at her. She stepped off the cliff, trusting her powers to allow roots to carry her to the ground. As her foot made contact with solid earth the war raged again. 

Yet this time the screams were pointed towards her. The few who attempted to attack her were frozen in place with vines crawling over their feet. The vines and roots slithered up their bodies and down their mouths still opened in a scream. She watched as vines popped out of every crevice, their eyes, ears, noses, even through their pores. She absorbed their power as they were turned into dirt.

She heard Azriels loud grunt from her right. Her head snapped to the sound, eyes zeroing in on the perpetrator causing his pain. She tugged on the gold thread in between them. She walked quickly towards him, slaughtering anyone and everyone in her path. Her eyes were set on her mate and she would stop at nothing to get to him. 

When she did get to him, his attacker was already headless. She turned to her mate, his blue siphons flaring as they made eye contact. She felt his pride and heat flow through the bond. 

“My little huntress.” He whispered as he stalked to her.

The battle around them seemed to disappear as he neared. All she could hear was her heart beating out of her chest. Her hands reached into his hair when he got close enough. He smiled down at her with a predatory smirk, his shadows going crazy around him. 

She smashed her lips to his blood covered lip. Her hands pulled on his hair as his hands met her back side. One of his arms stayed on her butt while the other snuck around her waist, pulling her closer. Rooting swirled over both of their feet as she let out a small moan.

“Show them what you’re made of. Show them exactly how strong you are. Remind them to never underestimate you ever again.” He whispered against her mouth. 

His wings flared as one of her hands grazed their most sensitive spots.

“End this war. Once and for all?” She asked against his lips. With a wicked smirk he nodded.

A matching smirk fell upon her face as she lifted the two of them, slightly above the blood and gore. She turned, her back now flush with the shadowsingers front. She looked upon the masses and with a wicked smile she unleashed her power upon Hybern. 

Multiple thick, stocky roots broke from the ground, obliterating anyone who stood on their ground. Thick ropes of ivy surrounded the other soldiers, squeezing until their body’s burst, blood rained upon the soldiers of Hybern. 

New screams were heard, screams of cheer and victory rang out loud. Her power continued to flow, killing every last soldier. She found the king and wrapped him with a large root, carrying him to the feet of the oldest Archeron sister. Allowing her to exact her revenge.

The blood reached both her Azriel. She felt it pour down her face, over her leaves. She felt Azriels hand tighten around her waist and his lips making contact with her neck. She let her head roll onto Azriels shoulder as he kissed the most sensitive spot on her neck. 

The war was over, they had won. She had obliterated Hybern, all for her mate. She gained power from the mother for her mate. She lowered the pair over to where all the high lords stood. Her head bowed to the powerful beings.

“Do not bow, girl. Stand tall, for you have just won.” Ameren spoke. Her voice was different, clearer now. She was unsure of what all happened in the fight, but she was sure of one thing. That she would no longer be weak. 

The high lords offered her a hand. A voice of sorts. When she called upon the mother to return her power, she did not answer.

Keep it. I have no use for it. Find lands to raise, take care of the earth girl. 

With a nod she shook each of their hands. Then she turned back to her mate, a look of exhaust in her eyes. He nodded with understanding, taking her hand and winnowing them to their tent in the woods.

It was there that he claimed her body, again and again. Their tent was now surrounded by trees and flowers. 

“My huntress.” He whispered into her thighs.

“My hunter.” She responded.

~~~~~~~

A/N:

Here’s a short little one shot :) I absolutely love this one.

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[hvlcy0n]

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER CUT, ONLY 18+

writing this and immediately posting it no i refuse to come back to edit this

idk about the rest of yall but that one interaction between hiragi and banjo in chapter 130 snatched me up by my throat. plus hiragi with his hair down??? manga hiragi????? listen. stay with me now.

hiragi just oozes authority. STAY WITH ME. he possessed great leadership skills and commanded respect as a member of bofurin's four kings, and such attributes would draw you to him like a moth to flame even as he ages and consequently graduates from the high school. he exudes a casual dominance that makes your heart flutter, and you can't help but feel your brain go all mushy when he tosses his jacket over your shoulders to protect you from unwanted attention or when he nonchalantly drops to one knee to fix the strap on your sandals because you're wearing a dress or short skirt or when he offhandedly points out things that he'd like to see you in but "it's cool if you don't like it."

he takes such good care of you, he makes you want to suck him dry on the DAILY simply because you can. he isn't super well-versed in relationships and may be clumsy with certain situations, but he does his best, and you appreciate the effort. you crave his attention in a way that's almost embarrassing if you think about it for too long, but it's not your fault that almost everything he does leaves your skin flushed with heat and a dull ache throbbing between your thighs.

he may be a strong man, but he's not nearly strong enough to stay focused when you seek him out and invade his personal space, tempting him into your grasp with an alluring sparkle in your eyes and a soft plea for his assistance. sometimes, he may be able to resist for a while, but eventually, you'll get your way, even if you have to pull out all the stops to reach that point. the only exceptions are when you're intentionally acting out or there are pressing matters he must attend to, but that's a conversation for a different time. you're his sweet girl, how could he not deliver?

but, if you're going to demand his attention so often, you should be able to take what he gives you, right? it's only fair.

he's very much the type to crowd you against the wall and finger you until you're creaming all over his hand. his presence swallows you up, engulfing you so completely that it's nearly overwhelming; there's nowhere you can turn where he isn't already. the scent of his cologne wafting off his neck is dizzying, and the only thing grounding you is the low sound of his voice as you drift in and out of awareness. his free hand is braced next to your head for leverage, and you can't help but let your head loll weakly against it as you try to conserve enough energy to prevent your wobbly legs from collapsing under you.

you can't even remember how many orgasms he's pulled out of you with his fingers alone, nor do you care. the sticky squelch of his fingers as he curves them to bully your g-spot for the umpteenth time is obscene and makes your thighs tremble. you whine at the onslaught of stimulation and feebly try to rise up on your tiptoes to escape, but his touch simply follows you.

"nuh-uh, you don't get to suddenly decide to run. i'm not done." his voice, verging on a growl, vibrates in his chest. "i was gone for two hours, and i didn't even have time to take my fuckin' jacket off before you were all over me wantin' more. this is what you wanted, right?"

you nod, tongue too cumbersome and uncooperative to speak. you gasp sharply when the heel of his palm grinds against your clit, lidded eyes popping open attentively. "eyes open. answer me, sweetheart." his voice is firm but not unkind, searching for some type of verbal confirmation or denial that you're still with him.

"it . . . is," you can barely thread together the words. "feels s' good, toma . . . one more, pl--ease." your inner thighs are sticky, but you can't tell whether it's sweat or your own slick that's trickling down your skin. "jus' one."

"damn near insatiable," he grumbles, but regardless, his fingers sink back into you without hesitation.

he can't deny you. but, when he feels his cock twitch in his jeans when you lift your head to gaze at him with those hazy, adoring eyes and sweetly ask him for a kiss, he begins to wonder if he's just as bad as you.