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feral4daryl · 5 months

Note

I would love to see a fic of Daryl with pregnant reader (bonus points if there’s a breeding kink [if you’re comfortable, I didn’t see it in the list] that results in her being that way). She’s concerned about the changes in her body and that he doesn’t find her attractive in her condition. So, Daryl gets to share his love for pregophillia. :)

masterlist || MDNI

depths of your despair.

daryl dixon x pregnant!reader

summary: after a series of misunderstandings, insecurities regarding your pregnancy start affecting your relationship with daryl. but as soon as he becomes aware of that, he makes it up to you, worshipping your pregnant body like he should've done since the beginning.

warnings: 18+ smut, pregophilia, dirty talk, pet names, praising, cunnilingus, degradation, daddy kink, creampie, impregnation, arguments, rough sex, pregnancy sex, outdoors sex, slight choking, dacryphilia, self-consciousness, manhandling (if you squint), squirting.

word count: 8.1k

a/n: tysm for your request, i really enjoyed writing this one <3 it turned out a tiny bit more angsty than i intended it to but i promised it has a happy ending!

“Tha's righ', doll” Daryl cooed against your ear, harshly gripping your hips to keep you in place while he pounded your tight cunt at a fast pace. His chest pressing on your back, making your body shake with intense pleasure at his every thrust, each one deeper than the previous. You could feel his sweat wetting your body, barely able to keep your eyes open.

“Takin' daddy's cock so well like a good lil’ slut” The contrast between praising and degrading turns your brain into putty. That man knew all your weakest spots, he always knew exactly what to say to make you weak in the knees, struggling to keep yourself on your feet. You couldn't think of anything else or anyone else in that moment but him and the feeling of his big cock almost ripping your little cunny apart.

Daryl's always been the sweetest to you, always making sure you were safe, giving you all the shoulders when you cried, but when it came to sex, he was always just so eager and desperate for you that he couldn't help but be rough. He made every fucking feel like the last one, as if it was his last chance to ever lay his hands on you. He made it count, making you wonder how you were capable to have lived so many years without that man before you met him.

You tried to keep quiet, careful not to catch the attention of any of those walking dead fuckers' roaming around the woods while Daryl harshly abused you against a tree, whispering the dirtiest words into your ears. But he wasn't making it easy on you, and despite your effort, your moans and cries were getting louder and louder as you got closer to your high. He reveled in the way you bit your lips and threw your head back to rest it on his shoulder. He took the opportunity to let go of your hips and wrap his big arm around your throat, his other palm now pressing against your lips in an attempt to muffle your sounds.

“Shhh...” He shushed you. “Be nice 'n quiet fer daddy, yea?” His teasing words and a small nibble on your earlobe from him were all it took to make your legs finally fail as you sank to your knees. Instead of holding you up, he nearly finished throwing you on the dirt, laying your body flat on it. The tickling of the leaves and the rough texture of the ground could almost bother you if you weren't so lost in pleasure. He got even rougher, if that was possible, banging his hips against your ass so hard that made your moans shaky and your eyes start tearing up.

He loved whenever he gave you so much pleasure that you cried on his cock, the sight of thick tears running down your cheeks only fueling his twisted desires for you.

“Aww, wha's the matter, sunshine?” He mocked you, his voice coming out a bit louder than he expected. His piercing blue eyes looked around for a moment, searching for any threats but never stopping railing you. When he found none, he fully returned his attention to you, noticing the way your moans had practically dissipated and your had your eyes shut tight, a clear sign that you were dangerously close to cumming.

“Gunna cum fer daddy?” The volume of his groans and grunts getting harder and harder to hold back. You weren't able to speak with his hand pressed against your mouth and almost couldn't breathe with his big bicep wrapped around your throat, but you managed to nod slightly.

“Fuck, 'm gunna cum!” His needy voice filled your empty mind and you felt his hips stuttering when the rhythm of his thrusts started faltering. “Gunna fill ya up, make ya heavy w' ma babies.” You widened your eyes out, it was the first time he ever said something like that. But you were willing to give that man all he wanted, make his every wish come true like your life depended on it. You wouldn't say no to him and honestly, the thought of caring his children strangely turned you on even further. A faint smirk managed to creep on your face.

“Ya wan' tha', beautiful? Ya wan' Daddy ta make ya pregnant, hm?” How could you ever say no to him when the neediness in his voice was so obvious?

“P-please, fuck a baby into me.” The strangled sound of your voice while you begged him to fill you up was the fuse for him to finally start shooting ropes of cum into your velvety walls. Your tight pussy clenched around his cock as you weren't able to stop your own orgasm from dominating all your senses. It was like the world stopped spinning and the whole Universe contributed to make that moment perfect.

As both of you came down from your highs, Daryl gently brushed a strand of hair off your cheek, tugging it behind your ear to place a soft kiss to your temper. In that moment, the sounds of your labored breathing as you struggled to catch your breath was all that could've been heard until he let out a light chuckle.

“Can't believe we did this.” You could hear a smile in his voice while he pressed his cheek against the back of your head for a last time before adjusting his position, sitting down on the dirt and gently grabbing your arms, helping you do the same. Even though you were in the middle of the woods, you couldn't care less about it. All you wanted was to be in Daryl's strong embrace. “But I'm glad we did” You whispered, snuggling his chest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀~4 months later~

It still felt vivid.

It's like you could still feel his love from 4 months ago, the way he groped your body and made love to you like it was the last time. How ironic, if somebody told you that was actually the last time, you would have laughed right in their face. Now, as you unwrapped the towel off your naked body and tossed it aside to stare at yourself into the mirror, you wondered if you'd made the right choice, if you really should've let the heat of the moment get the best of you.

Your belly was round and your bellybutton was puffing out, an unusual look to you but it's been your reality for the past 4 months. You didn't really know how to feel about it. You were happy to be the one having the privilege to carry Daryl's baby, but at the same time it still felt so new and strange to you. And the way he felt so distant since the day when he knocked you up was not helping you feel any better about it.

He wasn't exactly neglectful of your needs as a pregnant woman. He was always around you, making sure you were safe, helping you through the symptoms of pregnancy, holding your hair up whenever you threw up. He was there, but at the same time, he wasn't.

4 months ago Daryl used to be so eager for you, always so thirsty for you. And now, he just left you aching for his touch. Whenever you tried to initiate some intimacy, he turned you down, leaving you confused at his strange behavior. He definitely wasn't the type of guy to refuse sex, at least not after knowing you, so you started wondering if you were the problem.

The stretch marks on your belly were getting more and more obvious as the time passed, your breasts all swelled up with milk. You gained some weight, and as you leaned in closer to check on your face on the mirror, you could see how round your face was getting.

Disgust.

That's what you felt when you looked at yourself. You were so sure your looks were the reason why Daryl wanted nothing to do with your body ever since you got pregnant. As that feeling filled up your whole body, you quickly started putting some clothes on, not able to look at yourself like that not even for one more second. Maybe he didn't like you in dresses, you wondered, trying to find a reasonable motive for his absence when it came to the moments of intimacy between you two that used to be so frequent and special in your relationship. Anyways, loose dresses were all that fit your body as your belly grew bigger and bigger each day.

It just broke your heart. The feeling of helplessness took over you as thick tears ran down your face, smearing the makeup you started to put on to see if it would make him even just a little bit interested in you. But just as all your other attempts, it was useless. You brought your soft palm to your mouth to muffle your sobs, but that only reminded you of how Daryl used to do the same exact thing to muffle your moans when he loved your body. More and more tears streamed down your cheeks as you reminisced your last time together like that.

You made a decision. You didn't want to suffer like that anymore, so you decided that you were gonna try to get his attention for the last time before shutting down completely. You didn't wanna give his love up, but you were so tired of practically begging for him only for him to brush you off every time. You sighed and looked at yourself on the mirror for the last time, wiping your tears away and taking a deep breath before going about your day.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀~Later that same day~

It was dark and Daryl still hadn't come home from his run. He was out scavenging, or hunting, you weren't even sure since you didn't bother to ask much. You had promised yourself that you were going to try to be intimate with him one last time, but that day he just vanished, leaving you waiting for him all day until you gave up waiting. You weren't only disappointed, you were almost angry at him, trying to give him a taste of his own medicine. But who were you trying to fool? That didn't make you feel better at all and you weren't sure if he noticed it.

It was happening again, that one familiar knot started forming in your throat as your lips pouted and you pulled the blanket over your head, feeling embarrassed at your own vulnerability. You brought a hand to your own belly, gently stroking it. Oh, how you loved that little bundle of happiness that was growing inside you. But at the same time, you felt so strange about it. You loved your baby, that's for sure, but you felt like it was the reason why Daryl didn't want you anymore. At the same time it made you hopeful of a new beginning in life, it was reminder of the day when Daryl stopped finding you attractive, even remotely.

Once again you weren't able to hold your sobs back, but this time, you were forced to abruptly swallow them down when you heard the creak sound of the door being gently pulled open. You knew who it was, and you almost wish you didn't.

“Pumpkin'?” Daryl's quiet voice filled the room as he called you that stupid nickname he only used when he knew you were feeling down. You didn't answer.

Light footsteps could be heard getting closer and closer to the bed before you felt the weight of his body on the edge of the mattress. “Y/N, hun'?” He called for you again, but when he got no answer for the second time, he reached for you, gently touching your arm from over the blanket.

“What do you want?" Your tone sounded a bit harsher than you intended to, but you didn't care. He sighed.

“I think we need ta talk, pumpkin'” He voice, making you even more frustrated.

“Quit calling me that, alright?” The muffled sound of your voice reached his ear, and he flinched a little at your sudden aggressiveness, removing his hand from you.

He was silent for a moment, digesting your strange reaction after speaking again with an even softer tone. “Aigh'.” He sighed. “Listen, Y/N...” It's like he was struggling to form a sentence. He was never really the type of person to have the right words or to know what to say to comfort somebody, but he tried nonetheless.

“I need ta know wha's happenin' if ya wan' me ta help.” He muttered. You almost felt guilty at the way you were treating him, but you had enough.

“Ugh, Daryl.” The way you said his name had a hint of scorn, a clear reflexion of the troubled feelings in your heart. You finally pulled the blanket off your face, lifting your body up to sit down on the mattress in a quick and almost aggressive motion. “Who the fuck said I need your help? Just leave me alone, ignore me like you always do.” You spitted out, looking deep into Daryl's widened out eyes. “I don't want you here.” You continued. You knew damn well you were saying all that because you thought that's how he felt, like some sort of revenge, but your heart was broken because of him. It was his fault and you were tired of pretending everything was okay. “Why don't you go fuck some other slut out there? Maybe they're better, thinner, prettier than me!” Your tone was filled with hurt as you voiced your insecurities. “Maybe you should be with them once and for all.” You practically whispered that last line, muttering under your breath.

The truth was you started considering the possibility of Daryl having an affair behind your back ever since you got pregnant. And you just couldn't take it, you couldn't help the way your heart shattered at the thought of Daryl putting his hand on another woman, making her feel good just how he used to do when he still loved you. You were so sure he hadn't left you yet just because he wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing that he left a pregnant woman behind. You knew that was the only reason was he still bothered to even talk to you.

Daryl was so dumbfounded by your attitude, since you were usually such a sweet and caring person, that he freezed. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just sit there, looking obviously negativity affected by your harsh words, wondering what the hell did he do to deserve that kind of treatment.

“Y/N-” He started talking, but you were having none of it. You spent so long begging him attention that now you just didn't want it anymore. When he threatened to scoop closer in a final attempt to ease things out, you surprised him by pushing him away from you with your hand pressed on his chest. “Get out!" You practically yelled. That was the most shocked you've ever seen Daryl's face before. After a moment, he averted his gaze to the floor, looking lost in thought before standing up and nodding slowly, knowing better than to push you harder. He walked to the door and closed it behind him, finally leaving you alone as you wanted him to. Or at least that's what you thought.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ *One week later*

You haven't seen Daryl since your last one-sided argument. If you missed him before, now the feeling got even worse. Ever since he closed that door a week ago, you haven't even heard of him. Maybe he'd left you for good. But could you blame him? You literally kicked him out of your life like it didn't matter. But after all, he was the one that made it feel like it didn't matter. That's what you had to keep feeling yourself, trying to comfort your poor soul or make yourself feel any less guilty. It didn't really work, though.

You tried. When he was gone for the first day, you wasted no time before trying to make it up to all the time you lost longing for him. You flirted with random men and women, trying to catch a glimpse of that feeling you used to get when Daryl gave you attention, but it wasn't the same, it didn't feel remotely similar. Maybe pushing him away like that was a mistake, maybe you had really lost him.

But fuck it. You were pregnant with his baby and he still had the gut to leave you behind. You had every single right to be mad and to try to restart your life, this time away from him. Even though it had been only one week, it felt like an eternity, every second he wasn't there made you feel every cell on your body begging for him, but you couldn't give in.

Sigh.

Spencer. You noticed the way he looked at you before and after you got pregnant. His gaze didn't change, he still licked his lips and looked you up and down with that stupid smirk on his face everytime you walked by. He was often the reason for arguments between you and Daryl when you were still together, but now, there was nothing stopping you. Not that you were attracted to him exactly, to be honest, he kind of annoyed you, but you just wanted to try. You just wanted to give yourself a chance to be loved, actually loved, not only for your looks. Deep inside, you knew you were just needy to feel something, anything, but you couldn't be blamed for wanting to feel okay after such a long time of feeling neglected.

You turned your head to search for him just to notice he was already staring from afar. You turned your head to face forward again, feeling a bit uncomfortable at the way he looked at you. Now that Daryl was gone, that type of behavior wasn't unusual coming from Spencer. He got even more spunky than before, flirting with you every single time he had the opportunity to. You swallowed your pride, trying to convince yourself that you were actually into him, taking a moment to decide whether or not to approach him and try something. You knew he wouldn't reject you, you just needed to dominate your heart that was still very much in love with Daryl and move on with your life, and maybe trying something with someone new was the first step to finally get over him.

As you gathered up the nerve to walk over to Spencer, slowly turning your body, you gasped in surprise noticing that he was already standing behind you. You were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear him approaching you.

“Easy there, doll.” He uttered. It felt weird to have anyone else that wasn't Daryl calling you pet names, but you quickly shook those thoughts away, trying to focus on the present. “Hey.” You answered, sounding significantly more uninterested than you meant to.

“What's eating you?” He pondered with a hint of playfulness in his voice and that stupid grin once again when he noticed your stiffness.

“Nothing.” You faked a smile. “What you been up to?” You tried to remain polite but flirty at the same time, trying your best to cover up how much you found him annoying. It was for the best, you thought. You just needed to adapt.

“Well...” He came closer. You had to fight all the urges to step away. “You know, the usual. I was just...” His fingers brushed your cheek before tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. Too close. But you continued playing along as he resumed his speech. “... Admiring your beauty.” God, could he get any cornier than that? It's like everyone that wasn't Daryl just looked so stupid trying to get your attention. There was you again, thinking about the archer. You sighed, failing to mask your lack of interest towards Spencer, but you managed to speak either way.

“Uh... Thanks...” You scratched the back of your head, feeling uncomfortable at his advances, but you tried to remind yourself that that whole thing meant a new start.

He looked so full of himself when he puffed his chest and had the audacity to say: “Can I follow you home?” You tilted your head in confusion. “Huh?” For the first time since you acknowledged his presence, he actually had your attention.

“Cause my parents always told me to follow my dreams.” He said that as if it was the most genius thing one could say. You had to make physical effort not to throw up or burst out laughing right there and then. The hell was that supposed to mean? Were you really the type of woman to fall for corny pick-up lines? But... You didn't really had other options. You had to give him a chance, maybe he was the one.

Either way, you couldn't bring yourself to say anything, so you just stood there with a stupid fake smile on your face. Spencer must've interpreted that as an invitation, because he leaned in, his face inches away from yours. You two weren't even 3 minutes into that conversation and he was already all over you. You wondered if that whole situation was awkward just for you, because he behaved as if he had you wrapped tight around his finger.

You really, really wanted to start running right away from him, but you were paralyzed, trying to decide if you should stay or go. But before you could make up your mind, he pulled you in by the back of your head, connecting your lips together.

Ugh.

It was probably the most awkward kiss of your life, as if you just forgot how to kiss in that moment. You widened your eyes out at the uncalled situation, and as he licked, bit and kissed your lips, yours remained stiff, like he was kissing you but you weren't kissing him. You felt deeply disgusted. What were you doing? Just like your lips, your arms were rigid on your sides, but his hands were roaming all over your body. You felt assaulted, even though you were allowing him to do that.

You wondered how the hell you ended up there: pregnant, with a missing boyfriend and making out with some douchebag out of emotional deprivation. In that moment, it finally clicked, you were just trying to fill the hole Daryl's absence left in your heart, and putting up with Spencer's audacious manners was no way of dealing with grief.

You finally pushed him away, accidentally sounding too annoyed. “See you around.” You spitted out before turning around and leaving him standing there in confusion, or maybe confidence, you didn't know since you didn't bother to study his reaction before quickly entering the house you were settled in in Alexandria.

You closed the door behind you, pressing your hands on your face, fighting the urge to scream and let all that frustration out. You slowly slid your back against the wooden door until your bottom reached the floor. If one word could describe you right now, it was helpless. For the hundredth time in the past few months, you started crying. It was like it was all you knew how to do since you lost control of your life. Oh, how you regretted that one moment 4 months ago where you slipped, causing your life to be destroyed right before your eyes while not being able to do a thing about it. Now not only you felt ugly, but you felt ugly and lonely. Your sobs got louder and louder as you wrapped your arms around your legs, lowering your head to press your forehead to your knees.

Knock-knock

Suddenly, you heard a knock at the door. You abruptly interrupted your crying, feeling embarrassed at the possibility that someone's heard you like that. After a few seconds, you heard another knock. You sighed.

“Leave me alone...” You muttered loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. You knew it was probably Carol coming to visit, maybe bringing you some cookies or something like that to make you feel better. It was so sweet of her, but you hated how everyone was treating you ever since Daryl disappeared. You just couldn't take the look in their eyes, the so obvious pity they felt. After all, you were a recently abandoned mother, and Carol along with your other group mates, just wanted to be there for you. Little did they know they were just making it worse.

When you were starting to think the person finally left, you heard a third knock on the door. Whoever was there, didn't seem to be giving up soon. You almost felt grateful for having someone give a shit about you, but deep down you just wanted to be left alone. You breathed out for a last time before standing up with difficulty due to your heavy pregnant belly and reaching for the doorknob, contemplating whether you should let them in or not. Then, you turned it and slowly pulled the door open.

Your eyes remained glued to the floor, not having the courage to look into anyone's eyes right now. Then, to your surprise, a familiar hoarse voice made its way to your ears.

“The hell was tha'?” You swiftly lifted you chin up, locking eyes with him, the man who left you when you needed him the most. He definitely had seen your pathetic attempt of feeling appreciated with Spencer. For a millisecond, you were actually relieved to see Daryl, but quickly enough anger flooded your senses once again. It's like it was all coming back to you, the same exact feeling from one week ago when you saw him for the last time making your blood boil once again. How did he dare to disappear into the world and then come back as if nothing happened?

You didn't wanna waste no more time with him and that situation anymore, it was just too nerve-wracking and you just needed a break from all that. So you aggressively pushed the door aiming to slam it on his face, but he was more cunning and placed a hand on the way, stopping it from closing all the way.

“Please, Y/N!” He almost shouted, visibly impatient. You turned your back and started walking further into the house, ignoring his calls for you.

“Can ya please just talk ta me?!” He continued, following you around. You remained trying to disconsider his presence.

“Why r ya doin' this fer, woman?!” Now, he finally yelled. It was the first time he ever raised his voice at you. In that moment, you felt like any hint of the caring man you once loved had faded away forever. The feeling hit you like a truck and you stopped your angry steps, turning around so your back was facing him. You couldn't stop your tears from falling not even if you wanted to, and suddenly, all your anger was replaced with a deep sadness. You weren't even trying to muffle your loud noises, sniffing and sobbing hard. When he saw you like that, he decided to just drop it and pretend like he hadn't seen you kissing that bastard. It felt a sacrifice to him, but he didn't want to make you feel worse than you already did.

For a few moments, Daryl gave you some space, not trying to startle you or make things worse. Then, after a while of silence and almost feeling as if you were alone in the room, you felt a warm breath hitting your ear. Shivers ran down your spine, something you hadn't felt in such a long time.

He studied your reaction, and when he felt it was okay to touch you, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your back closer to his chest. That made you cry even harder, the sting in your heart getting worse. But at the same time, it felt so good to finally be in his embrace once again. You had missed his strong arms and his warmth so bad, it was a mix of confusion and relief. You wanted to push him away, yell at him, tell him to go, but the second his scent of cigarettes and wet grass filled your nose, you knew you wouldn't be able to. That's how much you missed him, though you weren't ready to asmit it just yet.

“Jus'... lemme talk to ya..." He whispered, placing a soft kiss to the skin behind your ear. And just like that, you melted in his hands. You had no idea what to say, but you were willing to listen to whatever came out of his mouth.

“I jus' wanna know wha' happened. I understand, 'm s'pposed ta know and 'm a dick fer not knowing, but... If ya don' talk ta me, I... I jus' won' know how ta make things righ'.” He was so gentle with his words, so caring. He sounded actually worried, making the situation so puzzling to you. You opened to mouth to speak, but nothing came out of it.

“Ya said sumthin' 'bout me goin' out with other women...” He spoke after a few seconds. “Wha'... Wha' was that all about? I would never...” Daryl didn't really have a way with his words, but you could see he was putting effort into talking to you and trying to fix things. The way he kept you tightly into his hug and his fingers brushed gently against your arm were actually being helpful, and your sobs slowly faded away as your tears stopped falling.

“You don't want me anymore." That's all you managed to speak before you felt tears threatening to fall once again, but you inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to keep calm. You couldn't see his face, but Daryl furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Wha'd'ya mean, hun'?” Those pet names never failed to make you weak in the knees. “I couldn't ever, ever stop wantin' ya. Ever.” He whispered the last word. As he did so, he traveled one hand down your plump belly, caressing it ever so gently. It almost made you want to cry again.

“Then where did you go? Why'd you leave me? Why'd ya even come back?” Even though you stopped crying, your voice was still unstable.

“...'Cuz ya asked me ta and I... I wanted ta respect yer choice. 'M here now 'cuz... I can't live withoutcha. I... need a second chance.” Now, he was the one with a shaky voice. Seeing him like that broke your heart.

“I told you to leave because I didn't wanna force you to be with me. I didn't...” You gulped. “I didn't wanna baby trap you or something like that, I don't know...” You sniffed. Throughout that whole conversation, you kept your arms stiff. But then, you lifted one of them to wipe your nose with back of your hand.

“...I don' get it.” He mouthed. You sighed, finally turning to look at him. After such a long time, looking into his eyes was a remedy to your infirm heart.

“Look, Daryl, I know I'm not in my best shape, alright? I know this whole 'baby' thing changed me, I know that my body ain't the same anymore. All these stretch marks, my face, my belly, I know it all deforms me and...” He just stood there with an unreadable expression. “...And you have every reason not to find me attractive anymore, and I'm just so sorry that I kept pushing you into having sex with me, I should've just given you some space, I...” Those stubborn tears you've been trying to hold back finally get the best of you. “I'm sorry that I snapped at you, I'm sorry that I've been such a bitch, you... You shouldn't see me like this, and... And I-”

Daryl interrupted your babbling nonsense, grabbing your face with both of his hands and pulling you in for what felt like your first kiss. It was probably the most gentle you've ever been kissed in your whole life. You didn't know you craved the warmth of his calloused hands against your wet cheeks that badly until you had it. Everytime a thick tear dared to run down your beautiful face, he quickly wiped it away with his thumbs. After what felt like an eternity, he slowly broke the kiss, but remained with his forehead pressed against yours.

“Yer the most beautiful woman 've ever seen.” His sweet whispers made you finally feel safe after feeling lost for so long. “N there's nuthin', nuthin' in this world tha' could ever change tha'.” You were left speechless as he contradicted you. “If only ya knew how badly I wanted ta touch ya... It's not easy seein' you walk 'round all heavy with ma babies, knowin' I was the one tha' made ya like this n not bein' able to eat you up alive... God, ya look so...” He let out a guttural grunt. “...So fuckin' hot.”

Your mind was rushing. So this whole time he didn't think you looked terrible? He actually... Liked it? In your head, it made no sense.

“If you wanted me so badly, then why did you reject me over and over again?” There was a very obvious hint of hurt in your voice, like you were trying hard to believe his words but your own insecurities were stopping you. He averted his gaze from your eyes for the first ever since you broke the kiss. For a moment, he looked in a contemplative state.

“I got scared.” He admitted. Your eyes narrowed.

“...Of what?” You asked. What could ever make Daryl, the most brave man you know, scared?

“Hurtin' ya.” You tilted your head, still not convinced of his reasons. Your silence served as a cue for him to resume speaking. “Seein' you like this... I jus' wanted ta protect you. I... I never thought I'd ever have a child of my own 'n... I don' know how ta say this, but...” His thumb brushed against your cheek once again. “...I thought ya were doin' this fer me. I thought maybe, I dunno... Maybe you felt like ya had to be there fer me, y'know, sexually...” He was stuttering and struggling to speak his mind. “I felt like if I said yes... I'd be forcin' ya.” He placed a peck on your soft lips. “But I do wan' ya. 'Ve been wantin' ta have ma way with ya fer so long...” He closed his eyes.

“Then what's stopping you?” You challenged him. You almost felt stupid for thinking he didn't want you that whole time and he was actually just trying to protect you. As those words left your mouth, his eyes snapped open, and suddenly, they had a different aura to them. They were darker.

I'm a swift motion, Daryl pulled you in for another kiss, but this time, a more needy one. Though his touch showed he was aching for you, it was still gentle. He didn't wanna hurt you, after all you were still pregnant.

He gently bit down on your bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before letting it snap back. His piercing gaze found yours and the way he smirked at you made your body tremble in anticipation.

His hands found the strap of your dress, slightly fidgeting with the tied bow strap over your shoulder just to tease you. And when he finally undid it, your dress slid down your body and onto the floor, revealing your semi-bareness to him.

That's when it kicked again, your self-consciousness taking a hold of you and in a flash, you felt the urge to cover yourself up. Daryl hadn't seen you naked ever since the last time you were intimate together, you two even stopped showering at the same time due to all of the previous misunderstandings. It almost felt like one of those dreams where you're completely naked in school, vulnerably standing in front of the judging eyes of everyone else, even though you were still in your underwear. As you felt your face warming up in embarrasement, you shifted your hands to your swollen breasts and your legs instinctively closed.

Your shy manners didn't go unnoticed by Daryl's attentive eyes. “Hun'...” He brought his hands to your own, softly stroking them until you eased your grasp on your breasts. “Ya can trust me.” He murmured. You took a deep breath and you finally let your hands fall to the side, fully revealing your bra to his sight. A smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth and he looked lost in your beauty.

“God, look at those tits...” He said mainly to himself. The way your breasts were all swollen, all heavy with milk awakened desires within him he didn't even know he had. He reached behind your back to unclasp your bra, removing it and tossing it aside.

He wondered how he was able to deny his attention to those beauties for so long. If he had properly talked to you about his intentions from the beginning, probably none of that misinterpretation would've happened, he thought. But that time wasn't one to mourn, but to cherish. Without warnings, he grasped one of your nipples with his mouth like a starving man while gently but firmly squeezing your other one. You let out a small squeak of pleasure, blushing at his sudden eagerness. Some of your milk leaked, and he was quick to lap at the liquid, wasting none of it. The sweet and mild taste of your essence coated his tongue, sending shock waves of ecstasy all the way down to his cock and in no time, his pants started feeling way too tight. But in that moment, he just wanted to make you feel good and appreciated, so he payed little to no mind to his forming erection.

“Ya taste so fuckin' good.” He groaned against your skin. You were too embarrassed to say anything, but you loved when he talked dirty like that to you, it made your pussy even wetter if that was even possible. He kept his attention to your breasts for a while, teasing, flicking and sucking on them until your nipples felt sore. Then, he made a trail of kisses from your under boob until his lips reached your belly button, slowly sinking down on his knees. He placed soft kisses all over your round belly.

“Look at ya, carryin' ma babies like a good girl.” He looked up at you for a moment, biting his lips at you. You gave him a shy smile, clearly affected by his sweet praising, and he found you so adorable like that. He'd been wanting to put his hands on you for so, so long and he finally had the opportunity to. You looked prettier than ever and he was determined to convince you.

“Let's get ya settled, yea?” And with that, he carefully picked you up bridal style, paying attention not to hurt you. He carried you to the couch, laying you down on it on your back, too eager to go upstairs and to your room, he wanted it there and then. Now, feeling a little more confident thanks to all his praising, your legs instinctively spread themselves out for him, revealing a wet stain on your white panties, clear sign of your arousal.

That sight made a smirk creep on his face, his hands roaming up and down your legs as he pulled them even further apart. “Is this all fer me?” He asked, even though he already knew the answer. You were so visibly surrendered to him, he could see how much you missed him because he shared the same exact longing.

His hands slowly made their way down to your core, his thumb gently rubbing your clit in circling motions over the fabric of your panties. You were so desperate to feel anything that you felt like his most subtle touch could make you cum in the same second. Still, you wanted more. You needed more.

“D-Dar...” You muttered under your breath, throwing your head back as his finger starting working your clit a bit faster and adding a little more pressure. “Wha' is it, doll, hm? Tell me what ya need.” His teasing words only made you more hungry for him. “Mmm...” You protested, struggling to put your desires into words. “C'mon, jus' say the word and I'll give it ta ya.” He encouraged you with the sweetest tone, slowing down his motions against your extremely sensitive clit just to tease you.

“Eat my fucking cunt like you mean it.” You spitted out, your voice all shaky with need, and even you were surprised at your own bold words.

“Don' need ta tell me twice.” He said before pulling your panties to the side in one swift motion and diving into your wetness, quickly starting his assault on your clit and lapping at your folds. He practically buried his face into you, eating you out like it was the last time. Your back arched in that same second and you already felt embarrassingly close to orgasming. He noticed the way you squirmed and moaned for him, grasping his hair with both hands and humping his face, smearing your slickness all over his handsome features.

And he let you use him for your pleasure however you pleased. That night was about you and about making up to all that wasted time. “D-Daryl...!” Your tone was one of warning. You were barely two minutes in but you could already feel the first orgasmic contractions forming in your lower belly. The way you said his name, he knew damn well you were about to make a mess on his face, and he was all in for it.

You threw your head back and let out a loud high-pitched moan as you coated his tongue with your wetness, and all he could do was hum against your sensitive skin, sending vibrations all over your cunt and intensifying the sensation. Despite your first signs of overstimulation, he continued enthusiastically lapping at your juices until you were a quivering mess under his tongue. You had to manually give his head a very gentle push so you could have a break from that intense pleasure. You chuckled at his excitement to please you. If you had ever felt insecure about any of that before, you couldn't remember it.

He lifted his head up, placing tender kisses on your pregnant belly once again, stroking it lovingly. “Ya want me ta fuck ya, darlin'?” He said as he crawled up your body, getting face to face with you. You wrap your arms around his neck, forcing his lips against yours in a sensual dance. “'M takin' that as a yes” He voiced with a hint of playfulness. The thought of being inside you made his cock throb even harder inside his pants, and he knew he just couldn't wait any longer. He reached for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and taking it off. Then, he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, pushing it down his thighs alongside with his black briefs just enough to free his cock.

Oh, you missed it so fucking badly. You two used to fuck like rabbits before, and after going 4 whole months without getting dicked down by your man, you were more than desperate to feel him. Now, you finally understood your pregnancy wasn't any type of obstacle for sharing pleasure with him.

You stared down at his now visible erection. He was girthy, and you could feel your cunt stretching out just by looking at him. A small droplet of pre-cum threatened to run down his length, from the tip all the way down to his full balls. When you averted your gaze to his face, you could see he was admiring you while you took in the sight of his cock. Your eyes got all sparkly in anticipation, sharing a knowing look with him. You didn't have to say anything and he was always brushing his tip on your slit.

He gently tapped your clit with his tip, watching closely for your reaction, his smirk not fading away not even for one second. Your pussy was so slippery with your wetness that when he pressed his cock against your slit, it went in with ease.

“Fuck.” You moaned in unison. The feeling of his cock going in for the first time was always one of your favorite parts of fucking Daryl. He tried to hold back a little, still careful not to hurt you since you were pregnant after all, but when you wrapped your legs around his waist, he couldn't help but bury his whole cock inside you in one harsh thrust, yearning loud moans from both of you.

You didn't care at all if it hurt or not, you just needed to feel him inside you. He shut his eyes tight and it was obvious that he was fighting the urge to burst right in that same second. He gritted his teeth and leaned in to press his forehead against yours, slowly starting to move his hips. He wasn't exactly thrusting, it was more like humping his cock inside you, which made you grow more and more impatient. You needed him to pound you.

“P-please, Daryl, just... just fuck me already.” The clear frustration on your voice did it for him, and in no time, he started harshly banging his hips against yours, giving you no time to adjust to the pace. Squelching sounds, your moans and the sound of your skins slapping against each other filled the room in a dirty orchestra. The intense smell of sex made you dizzy.

You were so cock-hungry you could fuck that man for days straight without breaks, and as he gently groped your pregnant belly, you knew he wanted you just as much. You couldn't hold back a smile at the sensation of his palms and fingers gently caressing you, contrasting with his hard thrusts inside your pussy.

It was your favorite whenever he treated you like that, with a mix of tenderness and an urge to absolutely rail you. “Fuck, feels so fuckin' good inside this wet cunt.” The archer almost sounded vulnerable. “'M gunna give ya even more babies, princess.” He whispered, his voice a little more high-pitched than usual. The thought of feeling his warm load inside you again made your mind rush and once again, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your high.

As the pleasure grew more intense, your tight walls clenched around Daryl's thick cock, making his legs tremble as he struggled to keep his composure. “Shit baby, if ya keep squeezin' me tight like tha' 'm not gunna last long.” He admitted through gritted teeth. “Don't hold back, give it to me.” Your encouragement words only fueled Daryl's desires even further.

You felt so full, his thrusts getting deeper and deeper, filling you up to the brim. He was still holding onto your round belly, gently not to hurt you, and when you clenched your cunt around him one last time, he moaned louder than ever before.

“Fuckin' take it!” His whole body was shaking as his orgasm coursed through his body. The sight of him like that was so sexy, so dirty and raw that you couldn't help but squirt all over his cock. You didn't even know you could do that, and Daryl looked just as surprised as you as you drenched his cock and lower belly with your arousal. He buried his length deep inside you one last time as the final spurts of his warm cum coated your insides, keeping that position.

“I love ya, Y/N. Dontcha ever forget that again, woman.” He said, placing sweet little pecks all over your face, making you giggle like a little child. “Yer stuck with me. Both of ya.” His hand never left your pregnant belly that whole time, and now, he gently brushed his thumb on it.

“I love you more.” You confessed, bringing a hand to his cheek to cup it, feeling the rough texture of his salt-and-pepper facial hair against your soft hand. As he slightly shifted his position with his cock still deep inside you, you felt how he was still rock hard and ready for you. After such a long waiting, he wasn't ready to stop just yet.

“Round two?” You asked, already predicting his answer.

“Fuck yeah.”

a/n: hi there!! just passing by to thank you for reading this. i know it's not even close to perfect but it took me 10+ hours to write, so i really appreciate you if you read it this far! as i've said before, i'm a beginner writer, so i'm still on the process of adapting and i'm really thankful for all the support you've been showing me. see ya!

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cryptidghostgirl · 2 months

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Lovely (Lucifer x Reader)

Pairing: Lucifer x Reader

Description: Lucifer had heard rumor of the demon with the ability to alter people's memories. Y/n was a marvel and he had her wrapped right around his pinky.

Warnings: Same angst, new target.

Word Count: 1,631

Master Lists:

Master Lists

Hazbin Hotel Master List

A/N This fic is inspired by Spud Cannon's song Lovely. Also don't mind me and my silly little Latin obsessed brain (Lucifer translates to light bringer and is a combination of the latin verb ferre, to bring, and lux, light. I fuck around with that in this.)

That was what had drawn her to him first: the elegance. Lucifer was a graceful man, a beautiful man, a terribly sad person. In retrospect, that should have been Y/n's sign to take a step back but, it is always so difficult to find the right path in the moment. He had seemed so utterly heartbroken, because, as she now knew, he was so utterly heartbroken, and Y/n had thought: maybe I can help?

Her motivations had just been that at first, helping. It wasn't her fault that he was charming and funny and did things that made her want to be more than friends with him with such alarming regularity that it felt like her life was the worst rollercoaster at an amusement park. The one with eight billion sharp turns and uncomfortable seats that left rider's tailbones bruised. It was almost too much to bear.

Lucifer had heard rumors of the demon who had been gifted with the ability to alter people's memories. It had never been gossip that had interested him much until Lilith had left. Suddenly, his mind had felt like a curse. In the throws of despair, he had looked for her, hunted her down. It hadn't take long, he was Lucifer after all. When he was the one asking the questions, few dared to defy.

The shop was a hole in the wall, drenched in the smell of incense and covered in crystals and other odd objects of curiosity. Lucifer could've sworn he recognized the imp horns on the wall but, ignored it. He was there for a reason and asking questions like that were not the path to his end goal.

The demon herself, the famed mystery, was statuesque. She had sat her table in the back of the shop, draped in jewelry made of bones and gold. She had gifted him the first session free of charge.

In order to keep the pain at bay, Lucifer had been required to come to her shop at least once a month. Y/n was a comfort to him, he associated her with the feeling of relief. The two became fast friends.

"Light bringer." she would beckon him in with a smile, "Still counting those forget-me-nots?"

She spoke to him in Latin, in his first eternal language. She weaved images in the air with the smoke from her fires. She was amazing, a miracle worker. Lucifer was grateful for her, for her skill.

Y/n knew the truth behind it. She tried to ignore it, tried to still her raging heart. She knew it was doomed, had seen with her own eyes the way he was still so in love with someone else. Still, when he had asked her on that first date, a year into them knowing one another, she hadn't been able to bring herself to refuse. He had been so sweet, so earnest, so cheesy. He had asked her to be his and she had told him the truth: she already was.

It was a constant state of denial, one big, overwhelming lie she convinced herself was true. In the beginning, Lucifer had been a doting partner. He surprised her with flowers, he always tried to make her smile. It had all stopped the day she had told him she couldn't use her gift on him anymore.

"Why not?" he has asked, alarmed.

"Because, Ferende Lucem (man bringing light), it's not healthy. I can't make things go away forever, just hide them. You still need to deal with them eventually."

Y/n had thought it was time, had figured that two years of dating and three years of knowing one another would be enough. She had been wrong. Lucifer had ceased in his affections in all but name. No longer was she whisked away to the palace, no longer did she wake to one of his creations on her bedside table.

After about a month, she had decided to take things into her own hands. She refused to recede into the gaps he was creating, refused to just let this all go. Y/n loved him, truly. She wouldn't let the love die without a fight.

The palace guards knew her well, had let her in without question. After some searching, Y/n had found Lucifer locked away in his office. The place smelled of despair. He didn't turn from his empty desk at the sound of the door opening.

"Light Bringer." Y/n hummed softly, rapping a knuckle on the already open door, "Counting your forget-me-not's?"

She hadn't asked him that in years, not since before they had gotten together. He lifted his head from his hands, looking over his shoulder just the slightest bit.

"Malefica (witch)." he replied, his voice low and hollow.

Y/n smiled softly at the pet name and entered the room, letting the door stand open in her wake. She approached him, wrapping her arms around his tired shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

"Please." Lucifer's voice cracked, "Please take them from me. It's too much, they're too heavy."

Y/n didn't reply, simply nestling her chin into his hair.

"Y/n, please."

"You know I can't do that." she sighed, "It's not healthy."

"This is what is not healthy."

Y/n let go of him and turned his chair so they faced one another. She kneeled down on the ground before him, clasping his hands in her own. His eyes were ringed with red. In that moment, they weren't a fallen angel and a demon, they were just two people. Two people in love and two people housing broken hearts they lied to themselves to stitch back together.

"Lucifer." her eyes searched his face.

It was rare she called him by his true name. The gravity of the moment clung to their skin.

"Lucifer, what am I to you?"

He looked away. Y/n sighed, her heart cracking straight down the middle within the confines of her chest.

"Can I..." she cleared her throat, steeling her nerves, "Am I ever going to be what you're looking for?"

Lucifer's eyes snapped back to Y/n.

"You are what I'm looking for." he insisted, taking his trembling hands from hers and cupping them gently around her face, "You, Y/n, are my sweet little magician, my salve."

"My magic is, you mean."

Lucifer had always been a terrible liar. It was one of the things Y/n loved about him, the way the truth bubbled to the surface of his being. Right now, she wished he could be the best liar on the planet, the best in all of Hell. Right now, she wished she could've been born blind.

Y/n got to her feet, Lucifer's hands hanging in the air where they had held her last. There was no more running, no more hiding from the truth. This was the precipice, the breaking point, the fall.

"You're my salve." he repeated again, his voice soft and sounding like he was trying to convince himself of the fact as much as he was trying to get through to her.

"Don't lie to me." Y/n demanded, tears pressing behind her eyes, "Don't. Just... just don't."

Oh how she wished she could turn back time, set the clocks to zero.

"You never loved me, did you?"

The question hung unanswered in the air. Y/n had known it for a long time, had known it since the beginning to be perfectly honest but saying it out loud made it all the more real. She was dazed, spinning, out of control.

"You don't love me."

"I wish I could. I'm..."

Y/n scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and holding back tears. She looked away.

"I'm sorry."

"I'll see myself out, I guess."

She hoped he'd call out for her, run after her into the hallway, ask if they could try again could start over. Of course Lucifer did no such thing.

For all the things she had helped her clients forget over the years, Y/n understood them even more now than she ever had before. It was complicated. Now she was going to have to reshape her life. If she ever saw him in the street, it would be her duty to pretend she didn't know him. The memories spawned the terror of potential futures, dreams where things worked out, where everything was okay. They sent her mind reeling.

She had known, all along she had feared the worst and feared confirmation of her knowledge. That was the worst part, it hadn't even been a surprise. It had simply been just that, a confirmation of the truth.

The world caved in around her as she walked home, houses and shops and people all blurring together into something undistinguished and undefinable.

Lovely, that's what he was. In all his misfortune, in all his despair, in all his grace. Lovely but oh god, oh god he didn't love her. Not the way she wanted him to. Not the way she loved him.

Y/n pulled the curtains shut to her little shop, moving methodically and without thought. She sat down at the table in the back, before the pot of incense. She lit it.

Not once in all her years had she ever tried to do use her magic on herself. It seemed like a line in the sand, something utterly forbidden. Y/n shut her eyes.

When she reopened them, the world felt different. Time had passed, she could tell it had but her mind refused to give shape to the years.

"So this is what it must feel like." she mumbled aloud, noticing the remnants of her ritual spread out on the table before her, "I wonder what happened."

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userlando · 7 months

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my only sunshine — george russell

george russell x fem!reader [1.9k] summary: george feels like the whole world has come crashing down, but he luckily has you to pick him up. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, hurt & comfort a/n: i felt so so bad for george last night that i couldn't help but imagine how it'd be like to comfort him afterwards. i wasn't originally planning on writing smut but figured i'd throw it in there. anyway, hope you like this, lmk if you do!! <3

Silence. It’s all you’re in after the day has slid toward its end, the rumbling of the car providing you with the slightest comfort as you sit next to the man who’s given you so much. So much love, hope, inspiration and everything that you can’t seem to reciprocate at the moment because you can see that he’s dissociating, eyes staring off into the distance but it’s like he’s not looking. Just… seeing.

His hand in yours is warm, clammy, but he’s holding it tightly like he can’t seem to bear to let it go in fear of breaking down completely; Like your hold is the only thing tethering him to sanity. It makes your stomach twist and your heart ache with gruelling worry.

He mumbles hello’s and thank you’s as he guides the both of you through the lobby of the hotel, saying nothing as you press the elevator button. You can’t stop looking at him, wondering what he’s thinking but you know it can’t be anything good judging by his glassy eyes, red-rimmed with unshed tears.

George had been so close to podium, so close to getting that win he deserved and fought hard for. It had almost felt like reality slipped from your fingers as you watched his car lose control, taking him out of the race before any of you had time to blink. The garage had been in despair for your boyfriend and so had you, conflicted with Lewis’ win as he raced toward the finish line. Nothing has quite managed to break your heart as hearing your boyfriend’s voice over the radio, holding back tears for the sorrow he must’ve been feeling.

You stare at the tension in his back as he walks into the hotel room, shuffling through your thoughts and wondering whether you should speak or not. You know from experience that he’ll come to you eventually, and he will seek comfort in his own, wordless way but it doesn’t stop you from desperately wanting to reach out to him.

George turns when you drop your bags on the floor, giving you a slight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and you give one back.

“Go have a shower, I’ll order us something to eat.” You grab his hand in yours and watch as his fingers scramble to hold on, head nodding slowly. You press a kiss to his open palm. “Go.”

He goes without any preamble, leaving the door ajar and you walk around the room to redress into something comfier before calling for room service.

It’s a hot and stuffy night, but you welcome the slight breeze when you crack open the balcony doors and walk outside to take a look. It’s a gorgeous city filled with good memories, and you’d hate to think that tonight would taint them.

The sound of the shower running acts as background noise, and you get lost in your thoughts before the creak of the bathroom door pulls you out of them. You turn around and timidly walk inside, trying to tamper the sudden speed of your heart at the sight of your boyfriend walking across the room in his underwear; scrubbing his wet hair with a towel with way more aggression than necessary.

It’s the first sign he’d given you that he’s angry, ever since he first jumped out of his crashed car. He sniffles, the sound too loud in the silent room and you gingerly sit on the bed because you don’t know what to say to make it better.

You know that it’s something that he’ll eventually get over. Not completely, but the feeling of sadness and disappointment will dissipate with time. Right now, he just needs to lick his wounds.

He flings the towel in the direction of the sofa, missing it completely and it falls with a thump on the floor but you don’t focus on it for too long, watching George as he finally meets your eyes.

He’s been crying.

George’s eyes are red, watery and it makes your heart clench fiercely as you stretch your arms out for him to fall into. He doesn’t say a word as he lets you hold him, the shaking of his shoulders a clear indication that he’s finally broken down.

“You’re okay.” You whisper into his wet hair, holding his head so delicately as you fight your own tears off.

He doesn’t say anything as he cries and you don’t even know what you whisper to him, but it seems to work because his sniffling eventually fades off. You stroke his wet hair and kiss his head, pulling him in closer to you, like it’s possible to be any closer than you already are.

“I fucking had it.” He says it so quietly that you almost miss it.

But it’s there, and he sounds angry with himself.

“I know.” It’s all you can say, knowing that there’s nothing else that can help him.

“I just had to go fuck it all up.”

You tighten your grip on him, guiding his head from your chest to look at his face. It’s heartbreaking to see the dried streaks on his cheeks, long eyelashes clumped together from the tears but he looks as beautiful as ever.

“You didn’t fuck anything up.” Your voice is firm, thick with emotion but you power through. “Shit happens, you can never predict the outcome of these races and you know it better than anyone. It was a long race, and you did your best. That’s all you can ask of yourself.”

He shakes his head.

“I should’ve done better.” His eyes fill with tears again, eyebrows scrunching up in anguish. “I could’ve done better.”

“Maybe so.” You brushed a thumb under his eye. “But you did your best at that moment, baby. It’s a tough track.”

He made a noise of dissent and you leaned forward to press a kiss to his warm cheek, keeping your lips there. The way he subconsciously leaned into it made your chest tighten in adoration.

“You’ll always be amazing to me, Georgie.” You whispered against his skin. “I don’t know if that counts for something, but it’s the truth.”

He turned his head so your lips caught the corner of his, making you smile.

“It means the world, and you know it.” He said, squeezing your hip. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You waited until he turned his head fully, accepting the kiss that he was quick to press to your mouth.

It was like a switch had been flipped the moment your lips opened up to each other, George placing both hands on either side of you so he could guide you up the bed until he was looming above you. You sucked in a well needed breath when he trailed his lips down, kissing and sucking your jaw and throat in urgency.

“George…” The sound of his name from your lips made him stop and glance up, eyes trained on you. “Are you sure you wanna do this now?”

His answer came in the form of a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs, your legs caging his hips in and bringing your crotches together. The shudder that he let out was like music to your ears, low and heavy. Almost like some weight had been lifted off his shoulder and just that alone made you want to do more, to distract him from tonights loss and show him how great he was.

“Nothing I want more.” He murmured against your lips, fingers slipping into your joggers and underwear, slicking up his digits.

A shudder left your lips, hands gripping his shoulders and spreading your legs wider for him to properly settle between as he slowly fingered you. It was quick, thumb circling your clit just the way he knew you liked until you were coming apart under him.

He loved on your lower lip as you cried out your orgasm, eyes trained on your face because he just couldn't look away from how pretty you looked. It made him physically hurt how much love he had for you, how grateful he was that you managed to pick him up so easily when all he wanted to do was close in on himself.

No one had ever managed to simultaneously fill him up with so much love and inspiration like you did, and the adoration he felt for you in that moment felt like too much to bear. So, he hurried his movements when he felt you starting to shudder from overstimulation, reaching down to push his underwear far enough to get himself out of the confines.

"George, please." Your pleas made his hands shake as he slid the length of his cock up your pussy, wetting it in the process and hearing you moan. "Please, just hurry up and fuck me."

He didn't need to be told twice, notching himself by your hole and glancing up at you; waiting for your nod of consent before he pushed himself inside. The both of you moaned in unison, George's mouth dropping open at the combined feeling on your tightness and wetness, the warmth enveloping his cock as you reached your hands up to grab at his damp hair.

"Oh, fuck." He bottomed out, arms shaking to keep himself hovering over you. "Fuck, you feel good."

You pushed your chin out and George almost smiled at the gesture, knowing what you wanted without you having to verbally tell him. He got down on his elbows instead, caging your head in before he leaned down and licked into your mouth.

His thrusts were jerky, like he couldn't focus on one thing and you really couldn't blame him. It was clear that he needed the release and you desperately wanted to give it to him, clenching around him and hearing him moan against your ear; voice hoarse and broken.

It wasn't long before he was burying his face in your neck, hips working into you harshly before he grunted and buried himself to the hilt. George came with a bitten moan, shuddering as he shot off inside of you and it made you tighten up weakly, prompting another sound from his mouth.

The both of you laid wrapped up in each other, listening to each other's breathing and the silence dragged out for so long that you'd almost expected George to have fallen asleep. But then he made a noise in his throat and picked his head up from your chest to peer up at you.

He looked more relaxed than before, but there was still a sadness in his eyes that nothing but time could wipe away. You picked up a shaky hand to brush a finger under his eyes, watching his long eyelashes flutter at the touch.

"Japan will be yours." You said in a whisper, like it was a secret and it made George smile sadly.

"Don't hold your breath." He said it so self-depracatingly that you shook your head in a stubborn manner.

"I'll hold my breath, Russell. Better yet, I'll be right there to scream the loudest for you."

That prompted a laugh out of him, pushing into your hand when you swept his bangs out of the way.

"Thank you." He murmured and your face softened at the sincerity in his voice. "I don't know how you manage to do it, but you always make my losses hurt less."

"I'll always be here, you know that."

He nodded because yeah, you always were and you had never proved him wrong. It made something spark in his chest, something that felt a lot like hope and determination for the next weekend.

He'd bring the win home. If not for himself, then for you.

#george russell #george russell x reader #george russell x female reader #george russell x you #george russell smut #george russell fic #george russell fluff #f1 #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 smut #f1 fanfic

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impyssadobsessions · 2 months

Note

I don't have much time but I wanted to share this with you while I can! I can't draw but I can write and this is the only way I can share this imagery with you!

The world is passing by in a flurry of colors.

Which usually isn’t that unusual for Clark…usually though it’s because his flying of his own accord. Now…now it was because he was hurdling who knows how fast in piece of metal that was more of a mobile armory then an actual RV then it supposedly was.

There were no support handles to hold on to for just a bit of comfort, no, that was replaced by a handle that would pull down and release a fog horn sound.

So all he could do was pull his knees up to steady himself against the front console, using his size to squeeze himself into a cannonball form in hopes he didn’t get dislodged on a particular rough bump.

Then again if he did, maybe he could get propelled forward and through the front and take the engine out on his way.

Wishful thinking…at least he was doing better then Bruce.

Who was currently sprawled out on the floor of the RV looking like a disheveled cat hanging on to whatever and however he could. Maybe it would look more natural in his Batman outfit but at the moment both if them were in civilian wear and seeing the ‘Prince of Gotham’ doing an impression of a deranged starfish just added on more to today’s bizarreness.

Jack Fenton was giving him a large smile as he drove through another wall, “Don’t you guys worry! I’ll get us to our boys! No speed limit or any barrier can stop a Fenton!”

Clark could only let out a groan of despair as a response...

AMG THIS IS LOVELY LMAO!!! Bruce just imitating one of his sons to keep himself from being thrashed around.. or worse... throw up. ahhhh imagine they both slump out of the rv when they arrive, shaking and so grateful to touch the ground. Bruce is definitely calling for a private jet after this and Clark might agree to ride with him just to have a slower ride.

Danny gives them pity pats when he learns... Jon and Damian like how bad could it be. Damian thinking his father been in a space ship and Jon like we fly that fast every- Only for them to be overheard by Jack by their curiosity, so they all end up being drove back by him. Which bruce and clark like OH GOD please- which becomes a little relief when it turns out Jack drives safer with children.... still deranged but one they can handle. Damian still doesn't see what got their fathers so twisted up. Danny knows though and then asks dad how long it took them. "Regrettably 3 hours son. I was hoping it would be two." Damian frowned and done the math then asking if there was a flying feature in the... rv? "AHA! Nope, but I've been trying to convince Mads to let me install one. She said it would cost too much in gas though, and take up room for the ghost scanner." Damian does the math.. then realizes why his father and clark are shaking in the rv.. even by the tiniest of amounts. "That's my dad! :D" Danny grinning. "He's cool." Jon says innocently enough, not realizing the horror of that statement until it takes them over five hours to get home. Jack decided to play it safe and follow SOME speed limits and road signs. Jack is never allowed to drive again next time they hang out. Bruce or Clark always gets the keys =w= or has limo. ahh sorry got inspired. I LOVE this snippet ;w; !!!! <3 Thank you for writing this. <3<3<3

Link to prompt

#dpxdc #dp x dc #superdads + Jack #jack fenton #clark kent #bruce wayne #asks #dc crossover #dp crossover #impyelam #fanfic #fanfic by someone else #<3 #supersons + 1 #dcxdp

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nexusnyx · 1 year

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fuel to fire

#NightSkyChallenge: Prompt 8 — The night it finally happens. [“I’ve been waiting for this for a long time now.”] [5.8k]

— Joel Miller x f!Reader — Summary: His brain was cursed by words she read not too long ago, even if it felt like a lifetime already. When you come back to him, Joel's hit with the notion—there was no denying what you were. What you meant to him. — A/n: This is a sequel to imagine being loved by me, but it can be read as a stand-alone. I love my old man and I wanted him to have the end of the book. [shrugs] | 🏷️ Tags: pre-established relationship, roadtrip, sexual tension, making out, some horny thoughts (& promises), a more possessive!Joel than I'm used to; Ellie & Reader bond; pre-smut build up.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmasterlist | part one ←

ㅤㅤㅤdo you want me on your mind ㅤㅤㅤor do you want me to go on ㅤㅤㅤi might be yours as sure as i can say ㅤㅤㅤbe gone be faraway 🎧

Coincidences were not real.

When the third so-called coincidence happens, saving not only Joel's but also Ellie's life as consequence, he knows something bigger than him is happening.

Of course, his ear is ringing when he realizes that, and he's in shock for the countless moment in his life—frozen and unable to stop the panicking heartbeat rising inside his chest because he almost died, again, and Ellie almost died, again, but something intervened and—

it's you.

Joel's chest expands. It grows what feels like two sizes, and he gasps. Out loud.

The two bandits who only just a minute ago tried robbing him and Ellie are dead on the ground, and yet, all Joel sees is you. He wants to scream at the top of his lungs — his whole chest itches with the despair that the sight of you causes, but what wins is the knot in his throat, the sting in his eyes, the undeniable wave crash of relief over the fact that you're here.

Joel dashes.

He runs to you, his own feet moving before his brain is back to functioning.

Hugging is not something he does.

He's cradled you in his arms before, he has slept in your arms and had you sleeping on his chest, all tangled in his limbs, but hugging is like kissing.

It's intimate. Raw. He avoided it for the longest time, much like he ignores the idea of feeling anything or still being alive.

Still — When his arms wrap around you, they do it tightly.

His scream is kept inside, and Joel only breaks in your shore with how much he feels for the fact that you're here, you're here. He crashes against you, hugs on tight, squeezes, inundating you with his smell of blood and sweat and Joel — he's shaking, but beyond caring. You're here.

If you mind the way he throws himself at you, it's only for a second. There's a moment of delay when Joel's trembling is too much for him to have space to realize how rigid you've turned out of nowhere, and then — it's gone.

The incessant and annoying goddamn ringing from the shots is continuous. His ears register your voice nonetheless.

"I expected a lot more screaming, but... this definitely makes up for the sixteen hours drives."

He feels your arms wrapping sort of weirdly around him.

He recalls there's a gun still in your hand, and that's probably why — Joel knows your finger's off the trigger, and he just wished you'd press your hands on him, gun or no gun. Your hands are stronger than they seem and he's missed them.

Knows you're shaking, too, and not because he feels it, but because he knows you hate fire weapons.

His hands hold onto the back of your head, hips, he grips your arms.

So, not a dream. Or a hallucination.

"You're here," he babbles.

"I'm here," you confirm.

Joel buries his nose in your neck, in your hair, smelling you. He can barely soak up your words and his body is in too much shock to feel the hug that's grounding him, but the more he feels you, the more he's okay.

It's only when Joel hears the sound of his name being screamed that everything slots back into place again with a click.

"Joel!"

Ellie.

He whips around, panic rising again over a new reason.

The wild monologues that start whenever she's around danger go at hundreds of miles per hour. The 'is she okay did she get hit is she hurt are you hurt is everything okay' —

"Are you ok?" he echoes, hands still resting on your shoulders.

Ellie's eyes are on you instead of him.

"Who's this?"

Joel turned his right side to Ellie — the habit of keeping his good ear to you seems to be sewn just as tight as ever in him, and he hears your scoff before your words. "This is so fucking insane."

Ellie looks over to Joel. "Yeah, I'm ok. You know her?" she asks again, all in one breath.

He nods. "I do." His hand squeezes on your shoulder, hyper-aware out of nowhere that he isn't alone anymore on this, and they are still alive. Because of you. He turns to you. "I trust her. This is my —" fuck, he always hated this part. "Uh — we lived together."

"Hi." You offer Ellie your name, plain and simple, then turn your head to Joel. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

Ellie's not done with her questions. "If you trust her, why wasn't she with you when you and Tess went to get the battery? Or when you made the deal to take me?"

"Because Tess and I needed her to stay and take care of things 'till we came back," he answers. The implicit 'we never came back' hangs in the air, and Ellie's posture changes.

The only reservations in her shoulders evaporate, and she nods.

That's all she seems to need to accept you — an explanation and the guarantee that you have his trust; Joel's surprised by how fast she is to trust his words. His judge of character, or situations, and not for the first time.

"How did you find us?" Ellie asks, and this time, it's directed at you.

It's Joel who answers, though. "She's one helluva tracker, that's how."

He sees you nodding at Ellie, and wonders if she said something in reply that his ears missed.

Joel's hand touches your face, still in awe. You lean against the touch, but his eyes don't miss it when it happens — the sweep.

"Where's Tess?"

Joel's stomach sinks.

It's been exactly three days since the Hotel incident.

Since Henry and Sam.

Since the taste of mourning, death, tragedy. All of it still lingered in his mouth, clouding his brain, creating tension between him and Ellie. The cycle of life, the fragility of everything and everyone around has made him uncomfortable since the outbreak, and even though all he craved was to offer the girl comfort, Joel was unsure he still knew how to.

Bile still rises high in his throat when you mention her name, and Joel feels for her death.

This time, it's an empathy feel — he feels it for you, and he's surprised when there's a tangible second wave of it; when Joel's eyes find Ellie's, she's looking away from you two.

Grief carries a heavy weight, and it becomes inevitable that it shows in the face.

"Oh," you say.

He doesn't hear it, but he sees your lips forming the word.

Joel hates the world, but he hates how impossible it is that everyone is doomed to living in it. Whether one wants it or not.

Fingers squeeze around his hand, and Joel looks into your eyes waiting for his. "Let's go. You can tell me everything on the way. We're heading to Wyoming, right?"

Ellie's widen at you, and Joel wonders how long it'll take for the hero worship to start.

He had it within two days of meeting you.

"We are," Ellie replies.

"Okay. We should get out of here. Ellie, right?" You let go of Joel to walk in her direction. "You okay, kiddo? Is anything bruised, something we need to look at before we get in the car?"

Ellie's look exchanged with Joel carries an entire conversation, and when she turns back to you, Joel realizes the weight she puts on his words.

"Ah — don't worry about me. I'm kinda — of immune. To the whole thing. It's why the grump over there's risking his neck to take me and everything. So. No need to worry. I'm all good."

You take in her words, look back at Joel in search of confirmation in his features and when you find it, you say it again. "Oh." His approval means things. He realizes that now, right there and then, because of both Ellie and now you.

That's all you need to believe it.

Joel needed a month, denying it to himself over and over until he was blue in the face, Tess was gone, and nothing fucking happened, and all it took was a slight nod from him for you to turn back to her and say,

"Well, immune or not you can still sprain something or get hurt. So — are you hurt? 'Cause we tend to any bruises before we keep going, and we really need to keep going. I'm sure these two idiots weren't alone."

Ellie moves her whole body as if doing a complete scan and nods to you, sharp and more obedient than she usually is with Joel. "I'm okay."

He sees you narrowing your eyes at her. "Ok. I'll believe you know yourself well enough to let us know if you need anything." With a tilt of your neck, you ask. "How old are you?"

"I'm fourteen. How old are you?"

"Oh, way older than fourteen."

"Really?! You look kinda young." Ellie grabs her backpack from the floor and swings it on her back, and you share a look with Joel before answering.

"Ah, I know. Looks can be deceiving, though. I was your age when the outbreak happened," you share.

Ellie gasps. "No way."

"Yes, way." You chuckle. "C'mon, old man. We need to get going. These roads are really dangerous."

It's horrendous how much can happen in such a short span of time.

Joel updates you on everything on the first night you three camp together.

Despite your numerous trips of over ten hours to catch up to them, you're the one behind wheels. It makes it easier to avoid Ellie's first-moment curiosity, to keep up a good path since Joel's eyes can focus on tiny details much better than yours, and you two need to go only a few hours away to know you've built up enough space between anyone who might've seen and wished to follow you guys and the impossibility of being found.

Setting camp mid-woods is easy. The kid — Ellie, fourteen, loud-mouthed, persistent, a volcano waiting to erupt — is good at following instructions, and she's been under Joel's systematic thumb long enough to know a lot without even needing a nudge.

By the time nightfalls arrive, Ellie's eyes are drooping.

You're re-organizing the supplies and only listening to her and Joel's short back-and-forth. It's entertaining, as much as it pokes at your curiosity.

He seems — comfortable.

In his own way.

He answers her, checks up on her, scoffs at her terrible attempts at conversation sometimes.

"Are you gonna finally sleep today?" she asks once her body's tucked inside the sleeping cot.

"She's here," he nudges his chin towards you. "So — yeah."

That means he's been up for some reason. Probably has something to do with the mess you found in their trail. With the tension that's so obvious in the air. That fragile and thin layer of something unsaid — something big and sad that happened and dented the air around them. You'll find out soon enough.

"Good." Ellie gets a little more comfortable inside it. "You're a little annoying without your beauty sleep."

You snort at it — it's too hard not to.

Joel gives you a pointed look, and you still notice the little aura of pride inside Ellie's bag.

It takes an hour before you're finished organizing things to your liking.

The tidying up was a way to placate you. Being in Joel's presence again sent you into disarray, even if you'd been searching for longer than a week already.

When he seems to deem the silence good enough — or maybe it's Ellie's deep quietude and lack of movement — Joel speaks up.

"How long did you drive? And how often?"

You turn to him, securing the trigger on your gun. "Longer than ten hours. A few days."

"The car?"

You roll your eyes. "You really think that gorgeous blue pick-up's the only car Frank's fixed over the past decade?"

Joel only nods. "How bad was it? Our trail?"

At that, you pause. Take a moment to respond, swallowing down the knot of guilt and bitterness you convince yourself is inexistent. "Bad." Just like Joel ignores the idea of feelings and living, you ignore the bile in your throat due to death. Horrors. Things you do or see. "Really bad, Joel."

He sighs and looks down at his lap, slowly. "Fuck," he mutters. "Fucking hell."

"Yeah."

"How worried should I be?"

"Not that worried. Whoever was in charge seems to be gone — the group's a bit of a wreck and whoever sent those few guys to find you will have a lot of other priorities besides a man and a kid they never met, I think."

He takes a while to nod at that, reading between your lines for the first time since the re-encounter.

I took care of it.

No one was coming after him, or the kid. Not now, not ever.

Not as long as you breathed and had a saying in it,

Joel opens his mouth and closes it. He looks away from you to say, "I've been trying my best, but — it's fucking hard."

"Of course it is." And of course this mountain of a man would be blaming himself. "I wouldn't have been able to find you two without it, if I'm being honest, but — there were more people coming after you two than I anticipated. You both and a Sam and Henry?"

Joel's head snaps up, and there it is.

The reason behind that thick and slimy feeling around him and Ellie — the veil of something you were absent to witness but still could smell in the air.

"What happened?" you ask.

Joel looks over at Ellie's sleeping cot, sighing once more. "You wanna know just about them or... can I go from the start?"

"That'd be nice."

"Alright." So he starts from the top. From the day he and Tess left for the batteries and came back with a mission that was supposed to have them only for a few days, but instead, took her away from this Earth and pulled him miles away from the QZ and everything he knew for years.

Joel tells you everything, and while he speaks, all you can think of is how good he looks. How you can breathe now that he's here, and you hold onto that because if you think of the rest, you'll crumble. Like always.

Tess.

No— Joel tells you about their visit to Bill and Frank. You focus on that.

"There was one for me, too," you whisper.

Joel's moved to the same tree you're sitting under, finding comfort by your side. "One what?"

"A letter."

His shoulders stiffen. "Oh. That — makes sense. Frank really liked ya."

"I didn't read yours. Don't worry," you knew him well enough to know he liked his privacy.

Joel snickers. "Nothing in there you wouldn't know. Bill was a grump, they were happy in the end, and he told me I could get anything I wanted from the house to help keep my — mine happy."

"Damn. Being married kinda merges you, huh?"

"What d'you mean?"

"They sound kinda the same. Bill and Frank — or at least, their letters did. Frank told me that amidst all the disarray there's still a chance for luck, I should lean on my gut more 'cause it's always right, and I could get whatever I wanted."

Joel hums. "That's nice."

"Yeah. I, uh—I buried them." You hate how your eyes sting at the memory. You can feel Joel's eyes on you, so you turn to him. "They — from blood to earth. They deserve a full cycle."

The way he stares at you makes you wish you could read minds. Inside, your chest tightens with each detail you take note of him. The cuts and bruises do nothing to deter his beauty away.

Joel has that look of sharp edges and impenetrable walls, but his eyes are his doom — yours can barely look away from them all the time.

They carry everything.

The guilt, the missing, the hopes he wished to bury so many feet under, the uncertainty and fear that no one can escape.

You sit right next to him and listen to all of it, and when he's done, you wished you had the excuse to hug him again.

You wished you felt confident enough in what existed between you two before he left so that you could lean over and kiss him.

Offer him comfort.

All you can offer is, "Thanks." He's told you everything. He's tired. The bags under his eyes are deep. You wished you could run your fingers through his hair until he was fast asleep, like you did a few lucky times. "Get some rest. I'll sleep in the car tomorrow. 'm keeping watch."

Joel's out within two minutes of laying down.

Even though he secured his body on top of his right side, in ten minutes he rotates, turning his body to you.

You keep watch with a smile on your face.

Women are... tricky.

Joel feels a little lost at first, and then it just amplifies.

When he wakes up, he can smell the food you've cooked already. You and Ellie are sitting side by side, talking — he breathes in deep and focuses his ear.

"...remember all that well, but it's not good when you do, too. I remember everything, and what good does it do?" you're saying.

Ellie's eating, slower than most times. "That makes sense. What was your favorite place to eat?"

"KFC. Fuck, I loved those wings so much."

Curiosities about the past she never got to witness. You were a much better source of information than him and he's happy Ellie's asking you. This way, she can get more than a few grumbled answers. He tunes out, and decides he can snooze for a few more minutes.

In the next two days, he's granted by the weirdness of what it's like to be outnumbered:

When you're in the car sleeping, Ellie asks about you.

Her first question, obviously, is: "So — I'm confused. I thought you and Tess were together? But now — I kinda think it's you and her? Oh my god, were you three a thing? Is that something adults do? Is it, like, allowed?"

Joel grips the wheel a little tighter and pushes down the desire to tell her to be quieter, damn it. "She's a light sleeper."

"Gotcha. Keep my voice down." In a lower tone, she repeats herself. "Was she your girlfriend?"

"No." Joel stayed out of the illusion one could have partners in this world.

"So it was you and Tess?"

"Also no."

"Dude, you can't lie on both fronts."

"Why does it matter?" he asks.

Ellie shrugs, shoving her face between both front seats. "It doesn't, not really—"

"Please, sit properly."

"—but like, curiosity might and definitely will kill me if you don't answer," she sits back, at least.

Joel sighs. Looks ahead of the road and remembers the smell of pages mixed with the innate scent of you. "We... were close."

"You and who?"

"First Tess. Didn't really work. But —," Joel points at you. "We did."

Ellie gasps, out loud. Joel has to suppress a stupid grin that wants to come out — he knows she's watching him from the rear mirror.

"You are so grumpy, how the hell did you get with her?"

All he does is shrug his shoulders.

Ellie sits in silence for a few seconds. "Why didn't you kiss her? When you saw her?"

Because I never wanted to do something so badly. I was terrified. I was never terrified before both of you showed me I still have reasons to.

He shrugs his shoulders again, and avoids looking to his side.

The sight of your neck always lured you in — drove him crazy.

Seeing it and missing how it smells is the last thing he needs.

Joel needs focus.

Too bad all he wants is to listen to you read.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ→ㅤㅤ →ㅤㅤ →

His brain was cursed by words she read not too long ago, even if it felt like a lifetime already. When you come back to him, Joel's hit with the notion—there was no denying what you were.

Girlfriend was such a silly word.

It sticks to his head when Ellie uses it, and he has to look away from your knowing eyes for the next two days to come.

Girlfriend is stupid. Neither you nor Tess were ever his girlfriend.

Tess was a partner. She was a friend, she was like family.

You... you were solace. Peace, and light.

There was no denying what you meant to him.

The words you read to him that never left his head are what he last thinks of before he falls asleep.

"Oh, the dead past that survives in me and that has never been anywhere but in me! The flowers from the garden of the little country house that never existed except in me! The pine grove, orchards and vegetable plots of the farm that was only a dream of mine! My imaginary excursions, my outings in a countryside that never existed!"

There are a few days ahead left of driving before you three can say you're close to your destination, and Joel cracks on a cold night.

After Ellie sleeps and you two clean up the weapons you found on the abandoned warehouse, he turns to you.

"Did you bring The Book of Disquiet?"

Your eyes widen at the question, brows going up in surprise.

"You want me to read to you?"

So she brought it. Joel smiles despite himself. "All I've had these past days were horrible puns. I could use a good readin'."

"You laugh at her horrible puns," you argue, and the smile's growing on your face too.

"So do you," he accuses.

"Yeah," you admit. "She might need to work on her delivery still, but some of them are quite good."

The book comes out from the confines of your backpack, and Joel wished he still saw that glint in your eyes when he was close by.

Flames dance in your eyes when he whispered too close to your ear before — that fire; he misses it like a lost limb. It could heat him better than whiskey, and he hasn't seen it since you arrived.

Still — your voice is good enough for him.

Even if Joel sleeps with the ache in chest; the itch to touch, to feel, to possess. He drifts close enough to feel your body heat, and lets the words brought to life by you to lull him into a deep rest.

The Book of Disquiet ends, and you brought no others.

That means listening to more of Ellie's joke book. Telling Joel the short tales you have engraved in your memory. The jokes always come in a good time — you see in Joel a light coming on again when she draws the line for the first pun, and you imagine it must've been a while since he last heard it; Ellie tells only 'the best ones' as she likes to call, and some of them are actually worth it.

Hearing Joel laugh is a gift.

Nothing's ever just good. The cold arrives and with it comes real, pressing worries for your every day trip that go beyond the people and the clickers and, well, staying alive — things like the road, freezing to death, hypothermia.

Despite having all those things running daily marathons in your mind, most of your thoughts are interrupted with musings about is how fine Joel is. How warm he looks.

How warm you know he is.

The memory's not enough. In dreams, you're consumed by them. Joel licks the nape of your neck in your kitchen, presses you against tables, whispers filthy things in the middle of packed corridors; Joel in your dreams is the man you simultaneously wanted to run away from and make a nest of his lap at the same time.

Now, he's... different.

Ellie brings out in him the parts that you never got to meet.

You want to devour them.

Taste them at the tip of your tongue.

Joel's a father. It should be the furthest thing from hot, it should be anything other than attractive, but it is.

His stern looks at Ellie and the twists and turns in the road the lead him to being in charge, bossing the two of you around — every time you see the ghost of a man who once existed, all the instances where you catch a glimpse of Sarah's dad, you want to jump him.

It's ridiculous.

Two days after he asks you to read again, you crack.

It's nighttime and you've stopped at an abandoned barn to camp for the night. Hide from the cold. Rest, eat the canned food you found, rest.

All you can think about is him.

Your brain is a looping of JoelJoelJoelJoel, and even when you try to tear your eyes away, the magnetism of his presence pull them back.

You're trapped, and it takes only a few slips for him to notice.

Wind is howling outside, and Joel thought he'd be out from the ache in his bones.

Instead, he's trapped.

The camping was set up inside yet another barn, and the only light came from the lamp sitting between him and you. Joel shared his thermos bottle of whiskey and coffee with back and forth, focusing on how the temperature rose in his chest.

He is so focused that when he notices, it's too late.

Your eyes.

Burning with enough flames to light a whole coast on fire — your eyes are trapped in his hands, following each inch of their movement as he fiddled with the coin, or moved the bottle from hand to hand.

You used to do that a lot.

It was the first thing he noticed about your attraction — Joel could deny the flirty remarks and the way he was the only fortunate bastard to get a smile out of you all he wanted, he could bitch about how it was far from his fault that he was the only guy decent enough for you to like among his group of friends back then, but the staring—no.

The staring closed the deal for him.

He caught it when he was playing the guitar, back then.

Now, you just seemed lost in a trance, and so, Joel was trapped.

Once again, like fly caught in a web, he was glued to you.

"Thought they'd lost their effect on you." The words drift with the wind, carrying his low voice.

When your eyes snap up, finding his, he knows you understood. There's another glance where you seem to shiver under your coat, and Joel swallows thickly. Memories flood his eyes, nose, tastebud.

'Like — fuck, your fingers feel so good, Joel, fuck!'

'So thick inside me — ohmygod. Please—yeah, around my neck, like that—'

'I can't shut up you know I can't fuckin' shut up, your dick's fuckin' perfect—gimme your fingers, please.'

"Don't think that's possible," you finally answer.

Joel dares to take another look. You're looking at every inch of him apart from his eyes, and it pains him. Before he left, Joel had his body wrapped around you tighter than your coat is right now, and there's distance between you now that he has no clue where it came from.

He nods. "Sure is." Moving them to look at their back and palm, he shrugs. "They're just — hands."

"They're one of my favorite parts about you, and you know that."

The words do something to him. They sink a hook in deep, deep waters. "There's a list?" He asks. His voice comes out all small and surprised.

You chuckle. "I mean..." you trail off, looking to the distance, then inside to where Ellie's asleep. "It's you. 'Course there is."

His brows furrow.

"There it is." Damn it, he thinks. "The permanent scowl."

Joel forces himself to breathe, relax. The ghost of your fingertip pressing on the part between his eyebrows, smoothing out the skin is what gets him to crack. To step out of the trap and into something more familiar.

He misses you, and pretending he can escape the reality that people start to matter whether he wants to or not is not happening, the same way that pretending he stopped feeling things never stood in the way of him going to your door at late hours of the night in search for your body heat and your mouth to kiss — not for distraction, or comfort, or release, but because he could think of nothing else.

Joel liked to touch you because ever since he did it, doing it again popped into his mind as often as the sun rose in the sky.

He gets up from his wobbly, weak chair, and takes a seat on the hard floor, grunting with the effort.

Fuck his age.

He sighs, and decides to just throw it out there.

He looks up until he finds your eyes, no matter if you'll look into his soul or not. "I'm sorry I've been distant. I can't — " no, not can't, "I don't want to even start thinking about what that one over there's doin' to my head," he points with a finger to the inside of the barn, "and when you arrived it just made it all so — fuckin'," he stops again, grunting with his lack of eloquence. "It's all so much bigger, y'know? With you here, I just—I'm never not scared now."

"Even when you're sleeping?"

Joel laughs, humorless. "When I sleep I either dream of Ellie gettin' shot 'cause I missed that day, or you gettin' bit 'cause you tried savin' one of us, so no, baby. Not even when I'm sleepin'."

"Joel."

"C'mere?" he asks. He pats his knees, and when you follow the gesture, Joel's knocked in his chest by the speed with which you get down from your chair and join him on the floor, straddling his lap in a second.

Everything becomes so much warmer.

Joel wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. Your heels entangle together on his back, and Joel's never been more comfortable. Your weight brings him that — silence, and warm, liquid peace. He rests his head against your chest, feeling you wrap around him just as tight. Hugging him, rubbing your cheeks on his hair, and his face.

You two must look like a stupid sight — squeezing each other and acting almost like animals marking territory, but the permission for intimacy is too inviting. Too earnest, too needed.

It's only when you two sync up your breathing that you calm down.

Joel pulls back to look at your face, but you've buried your face in his neck.

"Baby," he calls.

"Shhh." You kiss his neck, humming in pure delight. Joel feels nothing other than solace. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time now.”

"Have you?"

"Yeah." Your squeeze around his middle says the words are true. "I—I really missed you."

He's unable to say the exact words, but — "Me too." He feels the tickling of your sharp intake of breath, and Joel plants a kiss on the part that he can reach — your temple, cheeks, the corner of your mouth. "'m sorry this is so dangerous."

"Don't be. I'm happy at least I'm here. 's less dangerous with someone else to help."

Only my heart suffers more. "Guess so." Joel's hand squeezes at your sides. "When we get to Wyoming, we can rest there for a few days before we head back to the QZ."

"I'd like that. I need that," you add with a laugh.

"Yeah." Joel cups your face in his hands, thinking all sorts of unholy things. "We can have some privacy there," his voice drops at the idea of it, and so do your eyes to his lips. Joel smiles.

"Yeah?" Your mind is exactly where his is. Joel feels it in the heat rising in your body. "I really miss that."

He gets close enough so that his face is brushing yours; the tip of his nose bumps on yours, then traces your cheeks. "You do, baby?"

"So much."

God, Joel missed the sound of you begging. The last time he was in a community living with you, he was young and stupid. He hated how young you were, how determined you posed and how slick your looks felt. He hated the way he was definitely not the only man interested.

He recalls all the other people who he let talk to you, and his grip around you tightens. "We haven't been back there in a while." Joel licks your earlobe, warranting a whimper. "I ain't gonna let those idiots hit on you anymore, you realize that, right?"

"Why no?" you taunt.

Joel growls deep in his throat, and grinds his pelvis against yours just for the effect — the gasp, and the air leaving your lungs. "Mine." All his. "That's why."

Instead of answering, you crash your lips against his in a starving way.

Joel barely has time to react, but when he comes to himself, responding is even better.

He kisses you for god knows how long.

Until his lips are red, swollen, spit-slick. Until he can feel the heat radiating from between your thighs, feel the slow and subconscious movement of your hips on his. Until you're whining, biting at his lips, opening up for him so good and pliant that it drives him a bit bad.

He kisses until there's no air in his lungs, and then he gets it all back by breathing on your neck, sucking bruises into it and licking them better.

It's only when all the missing is out of both of your systems that the kisses slow down.

They slow, but never stop. Joel makes out with you to make up for what it must be years without a single kiss.

The more he gets intimate with your sounds and the way you can melt and fit against him, the more Joel understands he's addicted, and now nothing will ever get this away from him.

He'd kill for a single kiss of yours.

A look. A smile.

Joel would kill for you, but more than that, and even more dangerous — it seems he's willing to live, too. For you. No matter the odds, or the ways this could go. He lets you cup his face into your hands, pepper kisses all over it, and whisper how happy you are to be here with him, all while thinking:

i'll live for her. i'll do anything, but most of all, i'll live.

🏷️ @sakuralikestars — @mostardentily — @thegreat-annamaria — @leiticia — @polyglot-noodle — @casssiopeia — @earthtocharlene — @levylovegood — @lavenderhhze — @gracie7209 — @waywardwolfbonklight — @shadytalething — @sanzusmile —@yesimwriting — @celestialstar111 💖

⚠️ if anyone being tagged would like to not be, just let me know in my inbox (which you can also use to talk to me about all the appeals of Joel Miller with his hair slicked back. Just saying hehe.

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fleurriee · 1 year

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— stress reliever ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; your mate never took to stress well - but you couldn’t deny that it was a good look on him. so, when he comes home with a weight on his shoulders, you allow him to take it out on you.

word count ; 2.5k

themes ; smut, fluff, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; explicit content: dom!neteyam, scenting, pussy playing, p in v, let me know if there’s anything else..?

author’s note ; i really don’t know how i feel about this... but we’re gonna role with it. it got quite fluffy at the end bc this is still neteyam we’re talking about & that beautiful boy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.

main masterlist request a fic!

Crouched against the floor, you hummed a quiet tune to yourself - your songcord created by yourself, waiting for more words added on with each achievement in your life. Your hands worked tenderly against the objects you were rearranging in front of you, originally believing that it was time for a new look within your tent.

There wasn’t much else for you to do, after all - you’d prepared your dinner for that night, all it now needed was the heat from the awaiting fire; you’d spent a good amount of time with both Kiri and Tuk, the former wanting your presence next to you as she worked with her grandmother, and the latter wanting you to play whatever she randomly wanted to on that day. You didn’t mind spending your day with little random bits like this, because it was nice to not have to stress over so much weighing down upon your shoulders... unlike your mate.

Several times since moving in together, Neteyam had come home stressed out of his mind - whether it was from the actions of that day, or any upcoming day, it didn’t matter. Neteyam always took everyone’s blame as the older brother, wanting the rest of the clan to see that he would make a good Olo’eyktan one day. And, despite the way he hated the feeling of being distressed, he continued to do it.

You only hoped today he’d come home happier.

You were just finishing the end of your songcord, about to start it over again when you heard pounding footsteps from behind you. Turning around, you watched as your mate stormed through the entrance of your tent, hands clenched at his sides and brows furrowed in clear anger. He was mumbling and grumbling under his breath, shaking his head side to side and eyes casted down as you could only hear fucking Lo’ak escape his laboured breathing.

Neteyam had spent the day with the war party, helping his father train the younger hunters for the moment they’d be taking on more challenging tasks to help protect the clan. By both his actions and the cursing of his younger brother, you could only guess that Lo’ak had done something stupid, therefore causing everything else to fall like dominoes, and there was no doubt in your mind Neteyam probably took the blame.

With your ears high on your head, you moved slowly as you stood up, disregarding your previous task and walking calmly over towards him. “Neteyam?” you questioned, voice soft so as not to startle him too much. You knew he’d never hurt you - he’d rather die before he ever thought about hurting you - but you knew he could set himself off, not wanting to him to spiral down a rabbit hole of despair. “Ma ‘teyam, is everything-”

Your words were cut off so abruptly that you felt the breath hitch in your throat, your legs suddenly leaving the ground as a gasp emanated from your lips. Warm, rough hands grasped themselves against the backs of your thighs, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you close to his chest. He squeezed your soft flesh, your arms holding tightly onto your mate’s shoulders as you stayed suspended in the air.

In one swift movement, Neteyam had mercilessly untied the knots of your loincloth, movements hurried and fervent, before throwing the material somewhere unknown within your tent to the both of you, without a care for its disregard. At his actions, you couldn’t help the tightening within your core.

“Need you, my yawne (beloved),” his voice rasped, forcing his head between the junction of your neck and shoulder, leaving teasing bites against your skin. “So fucking stressed, need your body - need your pussy.”

You felt your heat clench around nothing when his rushed words left his mouth and into the warmth of your skin. A whimper left your mouth as his hands squeezed your thighs again, leaving a lingering slap against your cheek.

“Do you want me to take it out on you?” he questioned harshly, voice low in the back of his throat, sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you senseless, let me fuck all my anger into you?”

A whine, loud and clear, tore through the air, your body subconsciously moving closer to his own, grinding against his abs for some friction. You were so desperate for him, so needy for him, that you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, mind so foggy, lustful, and full of him.

He left another harsh slap against your ass, rubbing his head further into your neck as he drowned himself in your scent, allowing his own to pore into you, too. “Need you to use your words, my muntxa (mate).”

Swallowing carefully, you attempted to collect your words. You nod your head, your legs tightening around him. “Ye-yes, ma ‘teyam. Please.”

He brought one of his hands around, snaking its way in between your unbelievably close bodies, keeping you firmly in place with just his another one. You could feel his fingers dance teasingly as they lowered further and further down, gasping loudly when you felt the sensation of his cold fingers against your warmth. Neteyam began to rub gentle circles, eliciting a hiss from you, a smirk bubbling up in his throat at your reaction, tail curling around your ankle.

“What do you want, narlor (beautiful)?” His fingers continued their painfully slow pace, knowing that it would drive you over the edge and have you begging - exactly what he wanted. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You were quick with your words, desperate, lusting for more, for all of him. “You, ‘teyam,” you breath out softly, rubbing your cheek against the top of his head, somehow bringing him all the more closer. “I want you to fuck me.”

A chuckle painted tight against your skin sent you shivering, his fingers moving away from your core and leaving you whimpering at the loss of contact. He loved the way you submitted to him so easily, giving him exactly what he wanted - he loved to hear you beg and plead for more.

He didn’t say anything else - he didn’t have to. In one swift movement, his own loincloth was lying on the floor, his eager and impatient emotions getting the better of him before his entire length was free, slapping softly against your lower stomach as it twitched in anticipation.

The feeling of him being so close, yet too far had you grinding against him again, his cock rubbing against your skin. Your hands tightened around his neck, fingers cleaving at his hair and pulling. A groan tumbled into your ears at your actions, a faint laugh escaping your lips at the reaction you could garner from your mate.

But, it was taken away from you the moment you had it. He roughly planted his lips against your own, moving forcefully as your teeth clashed and tongues fought for dominance in a messy show of love. Neteyam wasn’t typically dominant when it came to sex, rather just making love to you the way he knew best - but when he got stressed, he wanted complete and utter control over you.

And, you loved giving it to him, giving all of you to do whatever he pleased, but you also enjoyed teasing him. You enjoyed making him work for it, pushing so close to the edge he was moments away from snapping, because you knew, in the end, he’d fuck you until you were stuttering, breathless mess.

Hands returning to gripping your ass, squeezing more harshly then ever to show off the power dynamic he was craving, he continued to kiss you, wanting you to lose your breath but have you begging for more. When you pulled away from one another, lips swollen and eyes hooded, Neteyam made sure to keep his attention solely on you when he slammed his lips into your own, forcefully pushing himself inside of you.

On a normal occasion, Neteyam would take his time with you, making sure you were well taken care of and ready for him before bothering with himself. It wasn’t like you needed it, however - since mating, the two of you had had sex too many times to count, too loved up and adoring of one another that you simply couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Now, you knew one another’s bodies like they were your own.

So, when Neteyam’s entire length pushed itself in you, completely bottoming out, a silent scream tore at your throat, eyes clasped shut, mouth agape and head hung back at how good it felt. You were sure there was nothing better in the entire world than the feeling of having Neteyam inside you, the warmth that blistered your body inside and out, the feeling of being full. You loved it.

Neteyam wasted no time in his movements, moving at full speed and not giving you a chance to adjust. He was angry, pent-up emotions getting the better of him as his eyes glazed over and all he could think about was fucking you senseless. He kept his grip firm on you, jaw clenched and eyes hardened as he watched your every reaction.

With his cock kissing your cervix so intensely, you tightened your entire body around him, arms and legs moving yourself impossibly closer to him. Lewd noises filled up your tent, the mixture of Neteyam’s grunts, your moans, and your wetness beginning to gush out on your mate’s cock combining together as one, you were sure the whole clan could hear.

But, you found yourself not caring. You almost wanted people to hear - wanted them to know how good your mate treated you, how good he made you feel. You wanted them to know you were entirely his.

Another low grunt fell from Neteyam’s lips, his head beginning to fall back and eyes screwing shut at the pure bliss and pleasure consuming him. He loved the feeling of your body clawing closer to his, loved the feeling of your head burying into the crook of his neck as you whimpered lovingly, the sound music to his ears.

Everything was becoming too much - you could feel yourself reaching closer and closer to the edge, whining submissively for more. “Nete-” you stuttered, not quite getting the correct words out, mind foggy and hazy. “Neteyam.” A guttural moan pierced through the atmosphere alongside his name, the two sounds coming together as he started to hit a specific part inside of you, spongy and warm and perfect.

Neteyam forced his head forwards again as he continued pounding relentlessly into you, one hand grabbing the back of your hair and pulling it back so your faces were in front of one another, noses touching and breaths mingling. You were a panting mess, words jumbled and unsure - obvious signs that you were close to cumming.

“You want to cum, my muntxa (mate)?” he asked, mouth wide open as he whispered the words into your own gaping mouth. Little whines were his only response, the sound sending warmth to both his heart and to his cock. “Hmm? You want to cum all over my cock?”

His words sent vibrations running through your entire system, from the bottoms of your toes all the way to your mind, your thoughts running wild. You could feel your tail beginning to shiver, too, another sign that the pleasure you were experiencing was too good, that you were close.

You nodded pathetically at his questions, desperate for him to give you exactly what you wanted. There was a brief moment where you wondered whether he’d stop so suddenly, ripping you away from your orgasm and making you start all over again just because he could. But, his anger was so prevalent, so built-up inside of him that he didn’t have the energy to be doing that - he just wanted to feel you as you let yourself go all over him like the good girl you were.

Your nod and whines were enough of an answer for him. “Then, cum,” he demanded, teeth gritting sharply and fangs pointing menacingly as he picked up speed, his balls slapping against your folds, willing you to cum. “Cum, my muntxa (mate).”

In an instant, you were completely sent over the edge, all mushy and whimpering and shaking as you came down form your high. You could feel Neteyam’s own release filling up your insides, too, painting your walls and swallowing his gravelly moan. His pounding didn’t stop, but it did cease, ensuring that you were both fully satisfied and his cum stayed inside of you exactly where it belonged.

With slow movements, you continued to pant into his mouth, lips messily attempting to kiss one another, sweaty foreheads coming in contact as you rubbed your noses together. The silence that ensued was welcoming, comforting, just the sounds of your aftermath and the scent of the two of you lingering against one another - heaven.

Neteyam continued to hold you in his arms, making sure you were safe in his grasp but softening his hold. He began to caress your skin lovingly, placing a tender kiss against your lips. You found your head leaning more towards his own once he pulled away, not wanting him to part so soon. “Are you okay?” he questioned, the fast-paced situation finally catching up to him. “I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

A blissful smile played at your lips, loving how he could switch from two different types of dominant in the matter of seconds - fucking you until your thoughts were filled of nothing but his cock, and making sure you were safe and rightfully cared for. Your eyes were still hooded and clouded when you responded, so quiet it was almost inaudible. “No, you were perfect.” Unwrapping one of your hands from around his neck, your cradled his jaw, your thumb rubbing gently under his eye. “Are you okay now?”

He chuckled at your question, understanding that you were insinuating to his stressed-out state when he first came home. Shaking his head, he smiled down at you adoringly. “Much better now, thanks to you.” He noticed your unsure expression, knowing how you’d rather him talk about his problems to you so he wasn’t keeping them entirely to himself. To ease you, he continued to rub your noses together, basking in your euphoric scent. “I’ll tell you about it later... right now, I just want you.”

Still snuggled in his arms, you allowed him to walk the two of you over to your mat in the corner, sitting down first so you could lay comfortably on top of him. The sensation of still having his cock stuffed inside your walls was warming to you, keeping your hands securely around his neck and burying you head further into his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

It wasn’t long until you were flat-out, your intimate actions having completely exhausted you. Neteyam stayed awake for a little longer, listening to your comforting breathing as the stress dispersed from his body entirely. There wasn’t anything better than being with you - in any way possible, he wasn’t picky - your demeanour having the wonderful ability to soothe him, to bring him back down to earth.

Neteyam couldn’t have asked for a better mate - and he thanked Ewya everyday for blessing him with you.

#𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐑’s work ── ✎#neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam angst #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam sully x female reader #neteyam sully x fem reader

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ghostkinnie · 1 year

Text

COD BOYS WHEN YOU DIE IN THEIR ARMS

pairing: ghost, soap, price, könig, alejandro and graves.

warnings: angst, mentions of death and blood, gender neutral y/n.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

- Simon was an empty shell for a long time until you came along and showed him what it was like to live again. You turned his life upside down and taught him what love was.

- But there you were now. Bleeding in his arms for a bullet coming from a sniper that he didn't find and didn't kill. He had failed.

- The only thing keeping Ghost sane and human was now dying in his arms and becoming cold as ice.

- And there was nothing he could do to save you. Once again he would lose everyone he loves because he was unable to protect. He had believed in happiness but it was taken from him again.

- " Please... Please Y/N don't leave me. Open your eyes. Please...Don't leave me alone...."

- But there was nothing else to do. You were dead and Simon went back to being a broken, empty shell. A ghost that would wander in solitude.

●●●

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

- You are Johnny's sunshine even though he is a contagious explosion. You were everything that made this man smile.

- You "were" as you now hung lifeless in his arms. He had arrived too late.

- And for not arriving sooner now he had the love of his life dead in a pool of blood. He would never forget. He would never forgive himself.

- He would brush your hair out of your face and stroke your cheek one last time as desperate sobs wriggled out of him.

- "Love? Please love answer me...! Y/N breathe.!"

- He would scream and just leave your side when Ghost or Price dragged him.

●●●

CAPTAIN JOHN "PRICE"

- Losing a soldier has always been difficult for Price. He is the captain and responsible for the lives of his men.

- But in the end he always had to move on.. but not this time. Not when the shot hit the only person he lived and died for; you.

- "Baby?! Call the fucking doctors now!...Little one I'm here now I've got you."

- But it didn't matter how quickly the doctors arrived or how much he called your name. There was a lot of blood and you were already choking on it.

- Price would beg you to resist but he knew. He knew you were gone and taken a part of him with you; his happiness.

●●●

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

- Alejandro is a romantic man and in the moment the two of you got into a relationship he knew you would take over his mind. There was only you for him.

- He would die for you and he always told you that. But what he didn't know is you who would do it throwing yourself in front of him to receive a stab.

- The knife would still be stuck in your belly when he grabbed you and looked at you in complete despair. He had never been so afraid.

- He would scream for doctors, carry you, kiss your bloodied hands and be by your side every final second.

- But being by your side wasn't enough to save you. And the scene of your last breaths would haunt him forever.

- ¿Mi amor? Por favor...Talk to me.."

●●●

KÖNIG

- You were the most precious thing in König's life. Everything that kept him stable and close to complete happiness. You were his life.

- And he was a boy so lost in love that he believed you two would be happily ever after. He really wanted this.

- But all of König's dreams of you were shattered when a gunshot rang out and a bloodstain formed on your chest.

- That was it. Nothing could be done. You were dying and König could just scream and hug your body so tightly it could break bones. He was so scared.

- Liebe? Mein Leben?...Bitte.. Wake up wake up wake up.. WAKE UP!"

- Panic fills his body and he knows that after that day he would be a broken man.

●●●

PHILLIP GRAVES

- Graves met you during missions of the 141. You were a bomb of energy and transformed his life into pure joy. He was lost in you.

- It happened during the betrayal. He intended to take you with him and keep you by his side no matter what.

- But one of his shadows ended up shooting you. And the only thing Graves could see was your body collapsing lifelessly to the floor. What was the point of living if the love of his life was dead?

- A scream of pure pain escaped his lips and he rushed to drag his body to safety. But it was no use. You were no longer breathing.

- I'm sorry! I'm sorry it's my fault! It's all my fault please...Please don't die!"

- But you were already dead and it was his fault.

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usedpidemo · 8 months

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Parasailing (Kim Minju & Jo Yuri)

> You're lonely and feel sad because your favorite idols are gone and never upload any pictures in their Instagram. You're really missing them because Minju and Yuri are your favorite underrated ship in Izone. When you decided to drinking alone in tent bar you recognize Minju and Yuri are there having their good time. You're so shy to be at the same place with them and stealing glances. Until you realized that you're drinking with them and told them how you miss them. Because of too much drinking alcohol and being bratty Yuri, she flirt with you and shy Minju try to stop her and after that they are in your place with Yuri kissing you and Minju watching it. being shy but enjoy it. And you fuck bratty Yuri and shy Minju. After that you're kissing their forehead and tell them that your so lucky to be with them and tell them that they are so loveable - @quietfallendemon

—————

There is no other way to put it: you’ve hit rock bottom. You’re down horrendous. It’s a sorry state your family or friends can drag you out of, no matter how hard they try—and that’s if you still have any friends left. In the eyes of randoms, they see a zombie, a soulless husk of a man—one who used to be brimming with life, with nothing but anguish and despair filling his soul now. Each passerby looks on with one of two expressions: concern and pity or apathy and indifference. Some with a little disgust. They’ve got lives to live, obligations to attend to, and some divine purpose given by higher powers to fulfill. So do you, but there’s a difference: you’ve lost the will to live.

Barely functioning, everyday life has turned into a nightmarish hell. Days, then weeks, and eventually months, fly by in a loop. You slog through your office job, receive income, then you carelessly splurge on lavish drinking bursts afterward. Your liver absolutely despises your guts by now. Night after night, you drink away the ceaseless pain hurting your heart more than the alcohol you consume. It’s become too numbing at this point. The morning after, you don’t bother cleaning up the mess you unknowingly made from the day before, especially when you throw up on the floors of your apartment rather than on your toilet.

So it goes. Not a single day passes by without digging your grave a little deeper with your alcohol addiction, but Fridays were particularly special. It’s when you decide that your place shouldn’t bear the brunt of your rampant alcoholism for one day. Instead, after another monotonous shift, you head to your favorite place—your other place of solitude—a tent bar that treats you like their best friend, mainly because you’re their most loyal customer, but otherwise, you enjoy the fresh air, grilled food, and the patrons’ attempts to sing their hearts out—with hilarious results.

Of course, the drinks were also part of the experience. You usually end up passing out quicker compared to every other day.

You’re partially through your first drink when two particularly mesmerizing girls walk in holding hands. Tipsy or not, their beauty immediately captures your attention. Even dressed in all black, they’re shining, like angels descended from heaven to grace this cursed earth, sent to remind people of their higher purpose and walk in them.

Gradually, you’re staring, drooling. Your brain’s in complete shambles, unable to comprehend how divine creatures like them casually walk among mere mortals, partaking in lowly, sinful activities like drinking and hanging out at bars. They take their seats across your table; a perfect position to hold your attention in permanent captivity, without any obstruction.

A waiter approaches the two women, and he should’ve been a distraction, but instead, it becomes a showcase. The girl in the black dress, seated on the left, shoots these playful, childish stares at the waiter, basically flirting with the guy while she stating her order. Her partner is much more reserved, sharing hers in an orderly manner before they’re left to talk with themselves again. The older girl slaps her friend’s shoulder, as if correcting her, which the younger woman simply brushes off with a laugh. From just one interaction, you’re hooked. You had to have her. This night won’t end without their names etched in your head, and if you’re lucky, their number, maybe even more.

Another waiter arrives at your table, bottle in hand, asking if you want a refill, which you absentmindedly decline. You’re drinking in the sight of the two girls, even as they do casual activities while waiting. They’re exchanging conversations, hiding suppressed giggles, but it doesn’t mute the younger woman’s boisterous laughter. It should be a nuisance, but it isn’t; it’s a treat to watch her cheeky, bright personality. Even her friend, whose disposition is a complete contrast, has some charm to her reserved nature, and they bounce off each other seamlessly.

In the midst of this space between you and the girls, someone else is singing karaoke, much to the girls’ amusement. That’s their source of laughter, the very grating voice of that poor soul. Even the older girl’s starting to lighten up, despite repeatedly tapping her friend’s shoulder while she laughs along. Their waiter arrives with their drinks, and they immediately down two glasses each in rapid succession. You’re not even halfway through your first.

“Hey, you think I should try to sing and make these losers second guess about performing next time?” asks the younger girl, staring at the next patron performing on stage.

“Please don’t.” The older woman replies, face flushed bright red from embarrassment. “We shouldn’t make a scene here—”

“C’mon, no one cares. Why are you such a killjoy, Minmin?” she retorts, making a cute pout. Minmin’s dismay is your enjoyment.

“I know you want to sing so bad, Yul. Believe me, you’ll be back on stage soon, but you just have to be patient—”

“Says the loser who hasn’t gotten an acting job, actress!”

You’re amazed Minmin hasn’t tried to physically restrain her—at least, not yet. Instead, she’s dragged along by Yul to the stage so they can perform. The older woman reluctantly follows without any resistance, simply grabbing the mics without any fanfare, not even announcing who they are or what they’ll perform.

The music starts. The girls begin to sing. It’s after the first verse that the pieces begin to come together.

Somehow, this girl, Yul, with her childish attitude, flirty face, and sharp tongue, has the most soulful voice you’ve heard in a very long time. She looks effortless; she runs through each part with minimal strain and her expressions convey the emotion of the ballad very well. Minmin isn’t far off either, but her vocal does not hold a candle to Yul’s. If they were bar singers, you’d be cursing at the earth giving these two unfortunate circumstances, because such talent shouldn’t be constrained to the confines of an open bar. These two are truly angels.

When the song ends, Yul reverts to her mischievous persona, shooting winks and flying kisses at the audience as she walks off the stage, followed by her best friend, shyly bowing at every turn. After returning to their seats, the younger woman’s wearing this prideful, triumphant expression on her lips, basking in the glory, eager to gloat. Minmin’s nervously smiling, still gently bowing at everyone while cutely gesturing with her hands in a plea to make everyone stop.

Then it’s business as usual at the tent bar again. Copious drinking, out of pitch singing, and you mindlessly staring at the girls that it’s outright criminal.

Until the thought finally hits.

“Yul…Minmin…Yuri…Minju,” you silently mouth. Your eyes suddenly widen, and the realization finally dawns on you.

At first, it was a complete coincidence. They looked too similar to be truly them, that it’s a convincing impersonation or face job at best. The real evidence was in their vocals. They sounded too similar, close to a near-perfect impression. You’ve never heard such divine singing in a very long time, and now it's clear why.

Jo Yuri and Kim Minju performed for you.

The day they disappeared just so happened to be the same day your life began to fall apart. While they’re out here living their best lives and enjoying their down time, you were at your lowest, your breaking point. Some part of you understands they bear no blame; it’s fate, an inevitability of any temporary group. Yet, no matter how much you prepared for the end, you couldn’t endure the loss. The other members have successfully transitioned to their new careers, whether it be in new groups or even solo, but those two—Minju and Yuri— essentially went off the radar. They barely posted on Instagram, so you couldn’t even keep up with them on a consistent basis like their former members. Their last shared photos were eight months ago. Minimal social media messages, even fewer magazine shoots or advertisements, and no music, movie, or show to get excited about.

To see them together again not only brings nostalgia, but also revives your sense of purpose again.

Every girl in that group was special, but in your eyes, Minju and Yuri were different. Yuri had her standout vocals, Minju with her divine beauty, but you loved them beyond those traits; you loved everything about them. You promised you’d support their endeavors after disbandment, but so far, there was nothing to support. Their absence from the spotlight hurt you more than it hurt them. The worst part is the realization that you’ll likely never see them after tonight, that you can’t do anything to convince them to further their careers—to do something. After all, you wanted them both to thrive like their other members.

Of course, you can’t approach them casually. You’ll probably melt into a puddle mere steps away. So you whip out your phone and take rapid-fire photos. It’s dangerous, but fuck it, this is a once in a lifetime scene. They’re preoccupied with their drinks and conversation to notice your camera. You gather a gallery that will sustain you for months, even if they disappear from the public eye again. At first, you’re delighted, overjoyed even, but the immediate realization clouds your mood.

You sigh. You put your phone down, staring at the twosome once again, but this time, with a yearning desire. They’re within your grasp. Uncertain of the future, you slowly reach out with your hand, imagining a scenario where you pour your heart out to them—how you missed them so badly, how much their disappearance has affected you, and how you’ll wait for them till eternity, even if realistically, you’ll break long before that no matter how long it takes for them to make a song, be in a movie or show, anything. Sure, this all sounds ridiculous, alarmingly disturbing, and should be shared with a therapist instead of two celebrities, but to you, no one would understand more than Minju and Yuri can.

When you draw your hand back, Minju’s eyes are locked right at yours. She’s gently smiling and waving back. Yuri notices her gesture, recognizes you, and waves along with greater energy. The younger idol giggles at you. She catches you in a moment of weakness, cheeks puffed up and tensely flushed. The two girls exchange a brief glance, Yuri’s eyes alight with a new opportunity to cause more mischief, smirking at her, essentially screaming that no one, not even Minju, can stop her.

Yuri cocks her head to the side, shoots you a wink, a flying kiss, sticks out her tongue; she flirts with a tinge of both cuteness and sexiness that heightens her attraction—and awakens a bit of your lust. Minju facepalms, awkwardly chuckling, wanting no part in this act. You’re left frozen, in awe at how unabashedly coy she is. She was the resident brat, but now she’s taken her friskiness to a whole new level. Proving your point, she pulls the strap of her dress down, teasing, expression mocking, quietly mouthing, “I know you want it.” Just as shocked as you, her friend’s eyes widen, her hand covering her mouth before tapping Yuri’s shoulder, telling her to stop. Surprisingly, she complies obediently, pulls her thin strap back up.

Hopefully, no one else besides you saw that.

Averting their gaze for a moment, you take a moment to let the small interaction sink in. You got more than you bargained for: a serenade, a gallery’s worth of photos, and flirty fanservice from your favorite idols. Perhaps this is what you needed to finally bring yourself out of your self-inflicted funk and back to normalcy. Maybe this is what you really need all along: closure. They won’t be in your life moving forward, but your fond memories of them are always there to look back on, and you’re grateful for the joy they provided you during those difficult times.

When you look back up, Minju and Yuri have disappeared from the table across yours; they’re directly seated right in front of you. They’re carefully watching your every move, Yuri’s expression brazen as ever, constantly searching for opportunities to pick you apart, and Minju, her enabler, despite the light admonitions and warnings, shyly following her junior’s eyes. All it takes is one turn before it spirals into a car crash of disastrous proportions.

Thankfully, you’re not the one to break the ice. “Sup,” says Yuri, casually feigning innocence. Your lips move in the shape of hello, but only air comes out. They’ve seen this reaction from fans hundreds of times.

“Hello,” adds Minju, sweetly smiling, as pure as her brightly lit face. “Did you enjoy our little performance?”

It takes a minute—maybe four—before an answer forms in your head. You’ve seen them from afar, you’ve seen them up close, but never in your wildest dreams did you imagine them talking to you on an intimate level. They’re patient, softly giggling over how overwhelmed and speechless you are to respond back. Anyone else in that space would react the same way; you don’t need to move your neck around to feel the jealousy from your fellow patrons. You’re not only carrying your own burdens, but the expectations of others.

“Yeah.” The word comes out natural, without second thought, while your thoughts are focused on them and them alone. Fuck, their skin looks flawless, is your sole noteworthy observation. Even if you had the full capacity to think coherently, you’d end up with this exact same answer.

“We missed performing on stage, so we felt that it would be nice to go up and—” Minju pauses, repeatedly turning to her friend, silently observing you, trying her best to look diplomatic. “Sing a little bit. We were a little nervous, but I’m glad you liked it.”

“Well, why haven’t you done that?” you ask, the nervous smile on your features gradually shifting to a frown.

“Done what?”

Leaning forward, the stare you shoot is sharp, cold. “You haven’t been on Instagram in months. Both of you. The other members have been on TV, they’ve been releasing music, they’ve been doing photoshoots, they’re in commercials. They’re being successful, but you—” You pause, aware of your surroundings, trying your hardest not to make a scene. “Where the hell have you been?”

Both girls’ reactions split down the middle as your temper flares ever slightly. Yuri leans back into her chair, turns to her friend, surprised by the sudden shift in tone, anxious of what happens now. Minju remains calm, gently rubs her hand on hers, reassuring her.

She takes a moment to formulate a response. “It’s been harder than we thought.”

“How come?”

Another pause. Minju sighs pondering the thought. “You have no idea how much we want to perform, you know. Believe us. We really tried. I’ve auditioned for a few big name projects, got a few scripts from some web dramas. They were glorified cameos at best. You don’t know how painful it is to see the news that someone else got the role in those big projects—”

Yuri nods in agreement, equally as dejected. She adds, “They promised me I’d debut soon. They never specified exactly when. They have this boy group I’ve written songs for, they debuted and made two comebacks already with another one lined up in a few months. I’ve written and recorded so many songs that I absolutely want to perform. Waiting this long, I—”

Yuri pauses, then sighs. Her eyes are glassy.

“I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore.”

The revelation pierces through your heart like an arrow. It’s heartbreaking. Unbelievable, hearing it directly from their mouths. You simply cannot believe they’re struggling when everyone else has been able to successfully continue their careers. Even shittier agencies recognize the treasure they have and at least try to make something happen, but this is completely absurd. It sounds too painful to be true.

Only one word can perfectly describe it. “How?”

“We honestly don’t know.” Minju replies, solemn, downtrodden, defeated. “We might just give up, honestly. Our management won’t do anything to help us. Maybe our time in the spotlight is just meant to be short-lived.”

You remember the rumblings from a while back, how Minju was scouted and offered a seven-figure deal to join her other members in Le sserafim. She declined. In retrospect, she could have saved her career and two months’ worth of migraines with what eventually became a disastrous debut. Fuck, even the thought of seeing her with Sakura and Chaewon together in that alternate reality sparks your imagintion.

“You should have taken that deal, Minju. You really should have.” You put it to her straight, almost mocking, very damning, as if to say, ‘I told you so.’

She sighs through the thought, completely despondent. “Yeah. Maybe.”

The mood is cold, grim. Alcohol releases your most intrusive thoughts, no matter how harsh or intimate they sound. That isn’t to say you don’t regret them; you’ll ponder the consequences in the morning, as usual. At the very least, you find common ground with your two favorite idols, drinking it up through life’s challenges as a coping mechanism.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly blurt. “I—I just really miss you both on screen.”

“It’s all right,” adds Minju, trying to form a smile through the pain. Seeing the vulnerability in her eyes makes the gesture even more heartbreaking. “I’m just glad you’re still waiting for us. That anyone still wants us.”

“God, you can’t imagine the jealousy I feel whenever I see the others nowadays and immediately wonder what are you doing. I mean, I don’t hate them, I just—”

“Oh, I understand that feeling very well,” Minju replies, her grin slowly widening, suppressing a chuckle. Yuri takes the bottle on your side to pour a drink on your cup, which she also steals. “We still keep contact and they’re also asking what the fuck are we even doing.”

“Look on the bright side, they don't have time to have fun these days, am I right?” Yuri interrupts, followed by boisterous laughter from her. Minju tries, but gloom gets in the way. You try to laugh, but it hurts to laugh right now, among a multitude of other feelings, particularly, pain, despair, and regret.

“Well, it’s not been fun for me ever since you’ve been gone,” you say.

You slip your phone concealed behind your hand, slide it across the table. The two women smile at what’s on screen; it’s memories from their past. It’s a treasure trove of funny, embarrassing, and endearing captures that border on obsession. If they didn’t know any better, you’d certainly be under a restraining order after seeing the bogus gallery saved on your phone.

“Damn, we looked quite cute,” says Yuri, scrolling between pictures. Their heads inch a little closer, while their free fingers trace around each other’s edges.

“Yeah.” Minju lightly nods. “I’m glad we still have each other, even now.”

The older woman slides the phone back to you. Two pairs of eyes gaze at you, both with piqued interest, but Yuri’s eyes widen, with much bigger intentions in mind.

“We really appreciate that you’re still waiting for us,” adds Minju, humble in tone and demeanor as ever. “Just give us your order tonight. It’s all on us.”

You’re briefly taken aback. Even with your sorry state, you feel as if you don’t deserve to be rewarded. Panickedly, you shake your head, “No—no—please don’t. It’s all right, I’ll pay for my own—”

“We insist; please let us take care of you tonight,” Minju interjects. Yuri glances at her, intrigued by her answer, as a new idea dawns upon her.

“Yeah, you should listen to her,” the younger girl adds, returning her gaze at you with a smirk. “Let us handle it.”

That was your first mistake.

—————

Actually, the first mistake was focusing on them to begin with, and the second was allowing them to close the space in your heart.

Yuri leads the way back to your apartment and is the first one in; that’s when you realize the mess you’ve gotten yourself in—both literally and figuratively. Empty food packs and spilled beer bottles make up most of the litter that fills every room in your once decent flat. It makes you look even worse than you already are. Mentally you’re apologizing, growing more flustered as your two uninvited guests explore your place. Minju’s been reserved the entire time that the expression she makes is nearly indistinguishable, even though her mouth gradually slacks seeing the shitshow you’ve been living in for a while.

“Your place is really cute!” Yuri knocks off some of the mess on the living room table before hopping on the desk, completely disregarding the wet puddle that now stains her black dress.

Minju’s mouth opens, but not a single word is uttered. It’s no longer her problem.

It’s yours.

“I hope you don’t mind us hanging out for a bit,” she says, and you’re not opposed to the notion in the slightest. Anything to liven up your place.

You and Minju leave Yuri by herself on the desk—for now. From across the table is the only piece in the apartment left untouched. Dusty, but unsullied. It’s a shelf filled with merch, albums, and group pictures.

“You took this?” She reaches her hand out to a particular photo, a framed picture of her and Yuri doing fanservice during one of their concerts. You quietly nod.

She smiles wider at the shot. “Would you like me to sign it?”

As you’re about to reply, Yuri swoops in between you both, tired of being ignored for at least five minutes.

“Hey! What are you doing—” she notices the framed picture, disrupting her train of thought. “Ooh! I remember this! We look cute here, Minmin!” Without any consideration, the younger girl snatches the framed photo from her friend.

“Can we keep this?”

“No.” Minju tries to take the photo back, but Minju brushes her away. “That’s his photo, you can’t just—”

“I’ll buy it for lots of money!”

“Stop! No amount of money can buy the sentimental value it has. Just give it back.”

“But money can’t buy this pussy though.” Yuri lifts the bottom of her dress, teasing her panties. Minju immediately pushes it back down.

“Yuri!”

“What?” Yuri asks, lips pouting, tone innocent, as if unaware of the stunt she just pulled off. “You know how horny these fanboys are.” Turning to you, she reaches the photo out for you to reclaim. “Your choice.”

There’s no resistance when you take the photo back and return it from the shelf. Yuri’s hands are itching to grab at her dress again, as if daring you to prove her point. Minju’s on edge, on the cusp of bailing, ready to take her friend with her before this messy situation leads to something worse. It’s a little tense, the mood a little suffocating, and none of you are able to make the best judgment calls.

“Sorry,” mutters Minju, now holding her friend’s hand. “I’m really sorry about that. We should leave—”

“No you’re not—” Yuri blurts out, before Minju places her other hand on her mouth, visibly irate by her malicious behavior.

“It’s all good,” you mumble, still fixated on the very notion that they’re in your apartment. One way or another, you want them to stay a little longer. And then you make your next mistake. “I mean, in all honesty, it’s about time I should get rid of these. Like I said before, I haven’t been able to move on, but you two are getting by just fine.”

“Right.” Minju’s gaze is sympathetic, enchanting, endearing—everything that reminds you of simpler times. The thought dawned on you at times, when you really considered burning it all—no, not even considering selling it to more sensible people—but actually burning the bridge connecting you and them. Though you say you want to move on, you understood it would haunt you for the rest of your life if you actually followed through with such an impulsive decision. “But you shouldn’t.”

Yuri pushes Minju’s hand off her. “I think you just need a little pussy. It’s not that deep.”

“Yuri!” Minju faces her with an even more annoyed glare.

“Maybe you’re right,” you blurt, capturing the girls’ attention. “I’m not free of sin, I do think you’re hot. Both of you.”

“Told you.” Yuri gloats, shaking her other hand free of Minju’s grip. She then approaches you, caresses your shoulders up to your cheek, lightly brushing the sides of your hair. “Tell me: am I the most fuckable member of the group?”

Knowing that Yuri has won, Minju stops trying to intervene. Admittedly, it was, in fact, Minju you thought was the most fuckable, and that’s no easy feat in such a stacked group, but to appease her, you nod.

“Come here,” murmurs Yuri, her fingertips rubbing around your chin as she drags you down for a sinful, deep kiss. Your fingers thread on her dress, the very same one she threatened to pull, now in your possession to grip. Her leg wraps around your hip as she pulls you closer, yearning for more of you, at the expense of your balance. It’s all falling into place, close to falling apart.

Then she says the two words that ultimately end you.

“Fuck me.”

And that’s when everything breaks.

You both end up in your bedroom, pushing Yuri onto the mattress, then hastily ridding yourself of your clothes: tie, coat, and shirt in that order. She kicks off her heels, smirking, tongue sticking out—teasing you with glimpses of her legs, panties, and pussy as you struggle to push down your pants. I know you want it, she mouths, and you’re inadvertently nodding in agreement. From the onset, you knew her dress wouldn’t come off on its own; she’s challenging you to rip it off her body, which you had every intention to do.

Your pants are still halfway down your legs when you join her in bed, completely removed after you shake the now useless heap off your feet. Yuri pulls you while you’re still approaching her for another passionate kiss. She recognizes your desire to undress her just as quickly, too. From lips to lips, she lightly brushes you down, your lips landing on her chin, neck, and collarbones. Your hand tries to grab a piece of her clothing; she parries your every attempt at her dress.

“You won’t make this easy, will you?” you say, aware of her daunting challenge but worked up regardless.

“Of course,” replies Yuri, visibly smug, getting amusement from riling people up. She rolls to the side and wraps her arms around your waist in a tight embrace. Kissing your forehead, she adds, “Show me how bad you wanna fuck me.”

It’s the right combination of seductive words, tone, and taunting demeanor that causes you to wrestle control over her. Reciprocating her kiss to your forehead, you return the favor, whisper an equally filthy reply that makes her squirm with excitement. “I’m gonna fuck this pussy so hard. Gonna fucking wreck you.”

“Try me.”

You slip both straps of her dress down her arms, enough to reveal her round, perky breasts without any cleavage. Without any further hesitation you keep going; nose, lips, neck, down to her chest—you leave a sloppy trail of bite marks, not even kisses in your wake. Yuri shuts her eyes, whines, folds like a deck with your arousing touch. Her body’s feeding your aching, hungry soul better than any meal ever could.

If it were up to you, and if it was in your capacity, the rest of her garment would be ripped in half through your teeth. Instead, they’re bunched up halfway around her waist, with the bottom half pushed up with your hand as you take hold of her panties. Digging your fingers between them, she winces, groans sympathetically, as your thumb presses on her folds, twisting her legs between yours uncomfortably. A single touch informs you that she’s wet at her core, aching, throbbing. She told you it wouldn’t be this easy; you’ll make sure it stays that way.

“Goddamn, Yuri. This wet already and I’m barely getting down with what I wanna do with you,” you mumble, your thumb lightly nudging against her folds. She’s trembling, breathing rapidly, fingers now gripped on the edge of your sheets, unable to keep still, her lips forming incoherent babbles. Add your other hand in the equation, take a handful of her chest, palm it around your grip for you to play with. It doesn’t do much that already overwhelms her senses, but her flesh is so squeezable, so malleable, so delicate to grasp, it becomes almost impossible to let go.

You dig your fingers around Yuri’s clit, her hips slowly grinding in tandem with your efforts to pleasure her. Her thighs involuntarily spread, providing more space for your fingers to be swallowed up by the tightness of her folds. With each pump and withdrawal, your digits are coated in copious amounts of slick. The sensations in her aching core pull your hand in like a magnet, allowing you to indulge in the erotic sight of Yuri quaking, screaming, tossing her head back beneath you.

“Yes, yes, yes—keep going—fuck—” Yuri makes her blissful cries loud and clear, enough for your neighbors to hear, way past any subtlety. Maintaining a steady rhythm fingering the mewling woman, you move your other hand back and forth between her shapely breasts, squeezing and kneading them, your eyes inching closer with each ripple, bounce, and jiggle. Something about the way she melts with every move you make on her slowly drives you wild, your mind racing with countless sinful desires you’ve been quietly suppressing ever since you first laid your eyes on them.

If not for how addicting it is to feel her soft flesh in your hand, it’d be hardening your cock right now. Doesn’t matter; you’ve been slowly gliding your legs, positioning yourself directly atop her, your bulge aching against her thighs, yearning for her skin. Can’t grow too comfortable, even as she squirms, yelps, writhes beneath your grasp. She adjusts, becomes acclimated to your fingers as it draws more slick, airily begging for more. Even before she considers the thought, you’re one step ahead of her, quickening your pace, generating a sloppy, satisfying sound while she leaks on your sheets.

You’re losing it, reveling in this newfound power you have over Yuri, that her orgasmic screams of pain and pleasure go overlooked. It isn’t clear whether she wants you to keep going or to stop. Your fingers never relent, even while she makes a quivering mess of your bedsheets and wetting your thigh and boxers. Eventually, you withdraw your digits from her torrentially drenched cunt. Another sticky waterfall drips on already inundated sheets. She can’t stop cumming. She doesn’t want to stop, body willing.

Yuri tosses her legs around, weak legs still violently trembling from her orgasm. The room returns to its usually quiet setting—except the gentle sound of sloppy flesh lingers. A bit quieter, more subdued, but your ears recognize a familiar sound.

Oh, right.

Somehow, you completely overlooked Minju’s presence. While you were focused on pleasuring Yuri, she had quietly leaned against the bedroom door, one of her hands following yours to that same pleasurable spot, watching with glazed eyes, enjoying the sight of her friend getting her rightful punishment. An unforgivable offense, but anyone else in your position would have done the same thing, especially when a half naked Yuri’s offering herself up on your bed.

“I was expecting you to go all the way,” she drawls, breathing heavily between words. She doesn’t care that your eyes are looking down, following her hand deep between her underwear hypnotically. “I hate to say it, but I was feeling a little jealous of her.”

Without a word, you quickly slide down her already unzipped jeans, her panties to follow. Holding her active hand, you draw it away from her core, your eyes intertwined in a passionate gaze. Time slows to a crawl. Your lips inches apart from sparking another fire. The whole time you’ve known her, she’s been quiet, reserved, nervous to make a move—that she’d ask you seven times before finally going for whatever move she wants to make.

She pulls you for a deep kiss, her other hand tugging down your wet boxers. Pressing your weight against hers, she strokes your hard cock, rubs it against her aching core, moans seductively in your ear. You’re biting down on her neck, collarbones, anything that marks her, tells the world you fucked her. Your hands latch onto her hourglass shaped waist, lightly pushing her on the bedroom door, lightly taking her off the ground without any grace, her skin another addiction to ruin your life.

Kissing down her clothed chest, you make quick work of her off-shoulder shirt before you dive back into her perfect body. Minju whimpers and whines,her nails digging into your back as you peck your way toward her core. She feels so right in your grasp; her ridiculous proportions, her slender legs, her unreal navel that warrants a prolonged kiss—everything about Kim Minju’s body was meant to be worshiped. She brings you to your knees, down to your lowest. It was easy to ruin Yuri, but this is something far beyond your level.

How do you deserve something like this?

Looking between her spread legs, you contemplate the thought. Minju’s achingly wet, just like her younger friend. She regains a little composure and realizes you’re on your knees, frozen in place. The graceful and patient woman she is, she gently caresses your cheek, forcing you to meet her gentle gaze. “Take me. Even just for tonight, I’m yours.”

Her lips draw yours like a magnet. Minju breaks eye contact at the first touch, moaning as your tongue familiarizes itself with her deliciously soft folds. Her head repeatedly thumps against the door with a thud, Digging your hands on her thighs, you’ve got Minju exactly where you want her to be: wrapped around your head in a suffocating lock. It doesn’t matter that your words come out as corrupted babble; your tongue is doing all the talking, and it loves her pussy.

“That’s it, that feels so good.” She rubs her hands on your hair, gradually shifting into a grip of the back of your skull as you acclimate to her velvety walls. “Doesn’t fucking me feel better than Yuri does?”

You’ll make your final comparison when you’re done with them both. For now, you’re focused on devouring Minju’s cunt, or dying by thigh asphyxiation—whichever comes first. Her approving moans encourage you, as if you needed any further motivation, and even if you lacked the desire, which is a completely absurd thought, her legs are there to make sure you drink up till she has nothing left.

Her juices taste so sweet, so divine, that even if your tongue dries up, you'd still be relentlessly eating her out. Soon enough, your tongue digs through every sensitive nerve and spot, setting every nerve in Minju’s body on fire. Little by little, you’re chipping away at her dainty facade. Her volume and pitch rises and rises; her grip on your hair and face tightens further. She’s exactly like her friend: a screaming mess that loves getting fucked.

There’s no tempo, no constant pace in the manner you take Minju—only a need to devour. Her patience knows only one thing too: the reward of an inevitable climax. She’s slowly grinding her hips against your face, pulling you further into her wrecked folds. It’s too fast and too sudden; you’re amazed at how she’s this alarmingly drenched—

“Fuck!”

Minju cries out, pulling you harshly by the hair, turning your face into a canvas of sticky nectar. From your vantage point, her eyes are slammed shut, mouth agape, stuck in suspended animation while her body violently trembles, even shaking your foundations. She’s completely lost in the high of her release, basking in the powerful sensations washing over her. As the lewd scene plays out, your tongue eagerly gathers up her juices. It overflows, drips down your chest and spills all over the floor even when you carry her to bed, flippantly tossing her beside her freshly fucked friend.

You take a breather to taste them both at once. Euphoric.

—————

The sight in front of you is enough to make you cum. Your two favorite members splayed on your bed, at their barest, in a state of coming undone because of your handiwork. And you still haven’t put your dick inside either of them. Deciding which one to slide your cock in first is a life or death decision. You’ll make your choice after you flip them on their backs.

You’re stroking your cock as you join the two girls on the bed, your other hand caressing Minju and Yuri’s skin back and forth, grabbing a pair of handfuls of ass. Time is a nonfactor; you’ve got all night to do every fantasy you’ve imagined with them, yet they’re still reeling from their initial orgasms, taking longer to recover.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect,” you whisper against Minju’s back, adding emphasis with each word, send a shiver all over her spine. Yuri feels every word too. “I dream about this exact scenario often. You, completely naked on your back, as I fuck you and cum all over this hot pussy from behind—” you follow, before you’re overcome by the urge to kiss her shoulder. It’s better than whatever dreams you’ve conjured up, because it’s real. You rub your cock against Minju’s folds, and it’s an immaculate sensation that not even your imagination can conjure up.

The tension hardly stretches for more than a few precious moments. Even without words, you understood they were impatient, and so were you. Deep in your gut, there’s a fear that if you wasted a little more time, this once in a lifetime opportunity will disappear in a blink of an eye.

“Fuck.” Minju’s pussy feels so incredibly tight, you never want to pull out from the uncertainties of tomorrow. It’s all the more intense when you draw yourself out, then thrust back in, watch as your cock enters and exits her cunt at a steady tempo. The bed gently rocks in harmony with your motion, moving like the ticks of a clock. The longer you fuck her, the longer the fantasy remains.

You grab her by the shoulder, by the waist, by her hair. Any part you haven’t marked red, you see red. Minju remains motionless, body lightly rippling, reduced to a groaning heap with each stroke. In this prone position, she’s nothing but a toy for your pleasures. You’re dominating her. You can tell she hasn’t taken dick this hard in a long time by her rising tone. You have plenty of filthy things to say, but you’ll let your hips do all the talking for you.

She feels so fucking good, so fucking hot.

It only seems appropriate that you almost lose yourself in Minju’s heat when suddenly, Yuri cries out for you. “Please.”

You don’t relent. Instead, by instinct, your pace quickens. Snaking your hand on her shoulder, you inch closer to Minju’s head, gently nibbling her ear. “God, Minju, you’re such a delightful fucktoy. So much easier to handle than your friend.”

Yuri’s hand reaches out to yours, and it snaps you from your lust-fueled haze. Her eyes sparkle under the dim light, cutely whimpering, “Fuck me please.”

Can’t hide the smirk on your face after she pleads. You face her, relentlessly pounding into Minju’s pussy, to prove a point. Assert control. You know she has no power over you. You’re threatening to undo yourself before she even gets a hint of mercy.

“I’m yours too,” says Yuri, looking penitent, even though in reality, this was her plan. “You said you were my favorite too, right? Please.”

Something about cutie Yuri tugs at your heartstrings. Cruel as you are, you’ve still got a soft spot. Maybe you fold this easily for cute girls like her. Maybe you’re not as assertive as you’ve projected yourself.

Your shadow hovers atop her. You have a hand gripped on her throat, your wet, hard cock lining against her slick folds. “Brat.”

There’s a subtle smile when you say the word. Her title. Her claim to fame. No matter how submissive she may act, deep down she’s a true brat and prides herself as one. A point made deeper when you impale her pussy with your cock. She screams—a sharp contrast to the subdued Minju. A way to make her point.

“Deeper! Harder! Fuck me hard!” Her voice comes out strained due to your palm firmly pressed on her neck. You lift her slightly upward, snake your suffocating hand down to her breast. Soft, pillowy flesh you squeeze, claim as yours. You’re crooning against her neck while adjusting to her equally hot tightness. Her pleasured-wracked face sticks a rebellious tongue out, darting in your direction as her hand frisks your torso. “You know deep down I’m a better fuck than her—fuck!”

She yelps, falls down to earth without grace. Her hands press on the sheets as you fuck her—ravage her pretty little cunt. No tempo, no slow burn, only raw, unadulterated pounding. Your palm tightly presses her tit, twists her face into even more lewd, unbearable pleasure. The words she has are lost, turned into deafening screams that echo throughout the room. “So! Fucking! Deep!”

It’s sinful, it’s hot, it’s perfect. You have her exactly where you want, propped on all fours as you mindlessly fuck her into submission, hands roaming her chest, her waist, her ass, lips kissing her shoulders and neck. She’s reduced to nothing but a high pitched mess; God, you’re sure everyone knows you’ve got Jo Yuri in bed now. Oh well. You’ve got a story to tell over coffee break on Monday.

It’s only when you force yourself to stop—and this is no easy feat—that she quiets down. Your cock is upset; you’ve edged yourself inside their hot pussy twice now, you can’t keep yourself in limbo forever, among other possible implications. The thought of protection never really bubbled up until this point, but you’re so far gone, far past the point of no return.

You’ll play with fate a little more before leaving yourself in its unpredictable hands.

The tango goes back and forth; Minju then Yuri, in that order, a few minutes at a time, which stretches into hours. You’ve twisted them in positions you fantasized and beyond your imagination, fucking both former idols till your cock can no longer bear with you. So when you have to make that fateful decision, it’s merely an illusion. Even as they make their deepest pleas for you to claim what’s rightfully yours, you reject the notion and take your own path.

It only seems right that the share of warm load is spread over their toned stomachs. In the aftermath of your long overdue orgasm, you fall back and wonder if it was the right decision. Initially, their faces are shaken with disbelief, utterly shocked that for once, the fan never came inside either of them, before all three of you eventually succumbed to their soreness and exhaustion.

—————

By some miracle, you’re standing on your two feet, holding onto Minju’s shoulders as she turns on the shower. Running water gushes over all three of you as it flows down your bodies without moving with the intended purpose of cleaning yourselves up. The older woman tilts her head at an angle where your lips find solace in her collarbones, gently pecking her skin—not the rough, sloppy lovemaking you’d been doing for the past hour, but intimate, sentimental love. She eventually turns around to rub her hand across your entangled arm, sharing in your warmth. Yuri hugs you from behind, her arms wrapped around your waist, nuzzling her head against your back like her favorite pillow. It’s your innermost desires at its most raw, fully realized.

You feel content. You feel grateful.

The same three words repeat in your mouth over and over, spaced between the occasional kiss to both idols, deeply imprinting how much they mean to you. “I love you. I love you.”

You barely scrub each other for over ten minutes before you leave the shower. The two girls crash back into your bed after a rushed effort to dry up, completely overlooking their wet hair. You quietly follow, putting yourself in the center as your two biases instinctively wrap an arm around you, the now quiet mood in the room a far cry from the loud mess it was when you first entered. The last image saved in your head is Yuri’s gentle smile, her finger reaching out to brush away a little strand of hair before you all eventually pass out from exhaustion.

You’ve never been in a better position to die happier.

—————

The morning after is the first after a long time that you don’t feel like complete shit.

The room reeks of sex—a smell that will permeate for a long, long time. Thankfully, it’s the weekend and you’re in no rush to put on your typical office wear. Minju and Yuri are long gone, and so is any trace of their presence in your apartment, except the lingering scent of last night’s activities. Just like that, life goes on.

Mostly.

The day after, you’ve tidied up most of your apartment. By Monday, to the surprise of your employer, you start working past the usual 9-to-5. He makes a little comment about your sudden change of heart walking past your cubicle. “You’re usually the first one out.”

The snarky remark goes overlooked, mostly because you’re preoccupied with thoughts of Minju and Yuri, as usual. You drown yourself in monotonous officework with the purpose of collapsing once you go home. It works. You’d rather be anywhere but home or holding a bottle.

A week passes. Rumblings of your character development spread like wildfire around the workplace, but you pay no heed to it. Friday arrives, and it pains you to hear that you’re not allowed to work overtime hours because of their employee friendly policy. Your mates invite you for a night at some club downtown, but you decline. Some part of you clings to the little hope that they might be there tonight.

The place is mostly empty, save for a few early patrons. You’ve got all night and the weekend, but you didn’t have to wait very long.

As soon as you put your menu down, ready for dinner, the two women have taken seats right in front of you. No words necessary, only warm, easy smiles.

You smile back. “Is this going to be our thing now?”

Now armed with dangerously alluring blonde hair, Yuri briefly kisses you, followed by an inviting smirk shared with Minju that tells you everything you need to know. “We hope your weekend schedule is empty. We have so much in store for you.”

—————

(A/N: I really love fan x idol stories, so this particular one hits all the right notes for me. Apologies once again for taking too long, this was supposed to be done when Taxi dropped (great comeback, go stream!). It's amazing to see Yuri potentially hitting it big globally with her Squid Game 2 casting news, here's hoping Minjobless can find big roles in movies and dramas as well! She deserves it. Thank you for reading!)

(PS: College started up again and I'm drowning in intensive research and assignments, oof. Currently, the only day I have free time is Sunday, since I have school stuff six of the seven days of the week. Expect more lengthy gaps of this magnitude between fics. Additionally, the Pokémon DLC is coming out real soon, which definitely will occupy my spare time more. However, this will change sometime around mid-to-late September, so here's hoping I can get a few more fics out for you. Appreciate you as always <3)

#smut #kpop smut #jo yuri #kim minju #minju #yuri

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 1 month

Text

Darling, please.

Pairing: Husband!John Price x Wife!Reader Summary: You should know better, better than to let him back into your home. You should know better, but once again, you dash yourself against the rocks for John Price. Warnings: Grief, PTSD(Implied), Trauma(Implied), Mention of character death (IYKYK), MW2/3 Spoilers, Broken Marriage Dynamics, Angst, No happy ending, Self-Destructive Behaviours (Price and Reader), Blood, Violence, Gore(soft), smut, Unprotected PiV (wrap it up folks), Crying, Regret, Dubcon (it’s not extreme but it’s worth mentioning that neither are really in a place to consent (high emotions etc.)), A little Coercion(again not egregious but it’s there).

Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: My first Price fic, and totally inspired by the below scene. Thank you @pinkypromisepascal for beta-ing this for me! ILU for indulging my CoD delusions. W/C - 1,450

CoD Masterlist | AO3

You straddle his thighs, sleep shorts and loose t-shirt already stained with another man’s blood as you dab the wet flannel over his bruised body. The side of the bath creaks behind him as he shifts his weight.

He won’t tell you what happened. He’s barely said a word since stumbling through your front door an hour ago.

There’s so much blood.

“John,” you plead, “Please, just tell me if you’re hurt. I won’t take you to A&E, I just need to know if you’re ok.”

“M’fine, not my blood,” he growls, eyes fixed somewhere over your shoulder as he refuses to look at you.

You sigh, throwing down the flannel on the floor as you try to rise to your feet. A large hand wraps around your right ankle, anchoring you in place as you glower down at the broken man. The heat that explodes from the point of contact has your breath catching in your throat.

You’ve missed him. Really missed him.

“Please, don’t go,” it’s his turn to beg as he finally meets your gaze. The whites of his eyes are stained pink, raw from crying. His dark blue irises are chasms of despair as he sucks you back in.

“John, I can’t keep doing this,” you say softly as you slump back onto his lap, eyes downturned as it’s your turn to avoid those baleful eyes of his, “I can’t stand by and watch as you slowly kill yourself.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles as he skims his fingertips up your sides, under the fabric of your t-shirt, “So sorry,” he repeats, and you let out a shuddering breath as he drags the rough pads of his calloused fingertips over your ribs.

“S’not enough John,” you say, your voice trembling as his thumbs swipe over your nipples, pulling a soft mewl from your lips as he brings them to stiff peaks under his touch.

“It was my fault,” he breathes, voice thick with emotion as you look up into his eyes, tears flowing freely now as he finally breaks, “He’s dead because of me, might as well’ve pulled the trigger myself.”

“Oh John,” you sob as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, “Come here,” you insist, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him against you as he slides his hands around to your back, pinning you to him as he begins to cry.

You run your fingers through his too-long hair, lips pressed to his temple as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His beard tickles at your skin as the wet evidence of his grief collects on the collar of your t-shirt. His hands roam your back, blunt nails scraping down your spine as his sobs begin to abate. Through the ferrous tang of blood, you can smell him. His caffeine shampoo, notes of pepper and sandalwood. His sweat, fresh and raw, conjuring memories of being pinned beneath his wide frame. Flashes of the way his skin tastes when you bite into his flesh to stymy your own screams.

It seems he’s losing himself to your body too. His fingers press possessively into the small of your back as you feel his arousal pressing through the fabric of his jeans, nudging at your clothed core.

“Need you darling,” he mumbles against the slope of your neck, “Please.”

You want to say no, you can’t let him in again, he’ll drag you down with him. It’s why you told him to leave, why it’s been six months of no-contact. But you know what today is. You know why he’s so strung out.

It’s been a year since Johnny died. A year since you lost your husband to grief, rage, and despair.

“Darling,” he urges again, a darkness to his tone as his nose presses into that spot behind your ear that makes your cunt clench around nothing, “Please.”

His teeth nip at the shell of your ear as his thick, hot tongue laves over the sting to soothe you. You want to say no, but you can’t.

“Ok,” you whisper, trembling hands cupping his bearded cheeks as you pull him away from your neck, only to crash your lips into his. His eyes go wide – as if he expected you to go through with your rejection – before they flutter closed.

He growls against your lips as he tugs your shorts down, leaving them stretched and tangled around your knees as you fumble with his belt buckle. He lifts his hips so you can pull his boxer briefs and jeans down in one. His thick length slaps wetly against his blood-stained stomach. You moan into his mouth as his tongue slips past your lips, claiming it for his own as he grips your hips.

You whine as he pulls you down onto his cock, you wince at the stretch, you’re not as wet as you’d like. But you soon forget the discomfort as he seats himself fully inside you. You break the kiss with a cry as your head lolls back. You’re so full.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he rasps as he sucks hard against your pulse point, rocking you up and down on his cock, his grip near-bruising on your thighs, “Missed you so much.”

“Missed you too John,” you weep in tainted bliss as you aid his efforts to impale you on his dick. You move in tandem with his thrusts, bouncing on his cock as you dig your nails into his pectorals. Blood and grime forcing themselves into your nail beds.

“I love you,” he breathes your name as he slams you down harder, your ass cheeks slapping obscenely against his muscular thighs.

“I love you too John,” you pant into his open mouth as you press your forehead to his, “Never stopped loving you, never will.”

His tongue slips into your mouth as he plants his feet on the floor, elevating you as he starts to pound up into your slick hole. You clench around him, drawing desperate gasps from him as you tug on his hair. Your other hand drops to your clit as you roll the sensitive bud with desperation as you feel your orgasm building.

“You like that, Captain?” You snarl as you yank his head back, drawing a yelp from him as he slams you down on his cock, “Yeah, you do,” you purr as you shudder and clench around him harder this time.

“Let me come inside,” he begs, and you moan as you feel the heat build in your navel as you increase the pressure on your clit, “Please.”

“Do you deserve to come inside me, Captain?” You goad and he groans louder at the repeated use of his rank.

“No,” he chokes out as he sobs, still thrusting up into you, making you cry out in rapturous desire, “Don’t deserve you darling, but I need you.”

There’s an unspoken plea in his voice and you relent. You push aside the agony you know you will feel tomorrow. Both physically and emotionally, this will ruin you. But as always, you throw yourself at the feet of Captain John Price.

“Come for me John, come inside me,” you whine as you come hard. Your pussy is like a vice, choking John’s cock as you cry his name again and again in a pleasure-ridden dirge.

John roars, his head thrown back as he ruts up into you again and again, splitting you in two as he chases his release. You’re putty above him, face buried in his damp, bloodstained hair as your pleasure bleeds into him.

“Love you,” he whispers your name as he comes, and you grind down onto his cock as he buries himself deep inside you.

“Love you too John, always.”

You stay there for some time, knees scuffed and sore, thighs ablaze with exertion. John mutters sweet nothings, promising to get his shit together. You humour him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. The blood and sweat that clings to his skin disguise the way your tears flow in rivulets down his chest.

You know he wants to mean it; you know he loves you. You want to believe him, you want to love him back, the way he thinks he loves you.

But you know that it’s a fantasy. You know he’s going to slip the moment he wakes up tomorrow with the same cavernous hole in his chest. He’ll leave without a word, any remnant of your love for him eaten away with shame. And the cycle will start again.

But for now, you can pretend.

For the next few hours you have your husband back.

And for now, that’s enough.

CoD Masterlist

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yandere-romanticaa · 1 year

Text

I need to talk about ADA! Dazai and Beast! Dazai because Beast ruined me beyond repair.

ADA! Dazai is like a beautiful red rose which caught your eye - you wish to have it, to pluck it, but it's so easy to forget that roses have very, very sharp thorns. Dazai has many people around him but a tiny few he can confidently say he trusts.

Which is why he might just be a bit prickly at the start.

Don't get me wrong, he is still the same old Dazai you first met. Confident, flirty, intelligent, a giant tease! Life is a breeze with him, there isn't anything in the world which Dazai can't do or crack wide open. It's so easy to spill all of your deepest, darkest secrets to him, so easy to open up and become dependent on him.

But just when you think you have him figured out, you're right back to square one.

ADA! Dazai, who does not know what to do with himself or you for that matter. How fun and cute you are, your crush is so obvious. He can't help it, he just has to tease you, you always give him the best reactions. He chooses to be careful with you in the beginning, think of dipping your toes in cold water for the first time.

Time passes and Dazai opens himself up to you. You are finally allowed to caress his scarlet red petals albeit with his thorns still in the way. They prickle and hurt, they may even leave a scar or two in their way but you don't care. Loving Dazai is like a drug, once you get a taste you can never get enough. The constant need for his attention and validation is just too intoxicating and Dazai is none the wiser.

Beast! Dazai though... Where do I even start?

This man and his love, to me at least, kind of feels like the lyric "Here comes the sun, she's the brightest star of them all." from the song Sonne by Rammstein.

There is absolutely nothing this man won't do for you and I mean it.

Beast! Dazai is terrifying and he knows it. He regularly uses and manipulates his authority and throws threats around like candy, particularly if his subordinates decide to question why on Earth would he settle for someone like you. You, his sweet, precious, darling, addicting little you, the reason why his heart beats and why he decides to take a breath and live the life he wants to live... As much as he can, that is...

Beast! Dazai uses your fear as a leverage and toys with you in a similar fashion to ADA! Dazai but there is a grim feeling to it, kind of like sticky black tar, it never leaves your person. He never allows you to breathe because he simply must be with you all day, every day. The sheer intensity of his stare alone is something worthy of the history books as even some of the most seasoned and battle hardened mafiosos can't help but to be off put by their boss. Everything is crystal clear right from the get go, anyone who messes with you messes with him, the Port Mafia boss himself and they will answer for their crimes no matter how miniscule they may be.

Beast! Dazai, who is desperate for you and your love but never manages to tell you. Instead he chooses to isolate you, to make you dependent on him so that you can have no one to turn to other than him. ADA! Dazai is at least sensible enough to understand that yes, personal choice actually does matter even if he will have it play out how he wants to in the end but Beast! Dazai does not have the time for that shenaniganary! He hides his despair and need for you like a true master of all lies and trickery. He tells you he could kill you immediately, put a bullet in your head and find someone else to screw with and you believe him.

How can you not?

Never in a million years could you predict that this man was ready to destroy the world for you and create it anew, that no one else in this world, this universe could ever replace you.

You, his sun, moon, star, his heart. His everything. And you will never know. But that's okay because Dazai knows. And he will always keep you close, forever and always.

🕊️ TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @itssara-chan

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hjpslytherclaw · 1 year

Note

Hello! 👋 Your Harry Potter fics are an absolute joy! It warms my heart to find another HJP lover out there! 👓⚡️💖 Hopefully if it’s no trouble, what do you think about a fic where the reader, whose in a relationship w/ Harry, has a dream or NDE (near-death experience) where she meets James and Lily and they’re so grateful for her loving Harry & being there for him? Keep up the great work! 👍

ah thank you so much!! and absolutely, I've been meaning to do one like this for awhile now <3

here is . . .

Beyond Our Hearts | Harry Potter

Harry Potter x fem! reader

Summary! In which during the battle of Hogwarts, Y/N L/N has a strange vision of her boyfriends parents while fighting for her life.

Warnings / Content! y/n on the verge of dying, mentions of death and passing, a worried harry but majorly fluff besides that.

It all happened so quickly.

From throwing as many spells as she possibly could at opposing death eaters to having the world go pitch black, Y/N L/N's life had flashed before her eyes like a bolt of lightning.

She had awoken in a room of nothing but pure light. Looking around the room seemed to shift, one moment nothing but white to the Gryffindor common room, the forest of Dean, the great hall during the Yule ball, it configured itself to places she had known too well.

And as vast as it had originally happened, it had become grimly clear to Y/N what was going on.

"I'm dead," Y/N's voice was a bare breath, as light as a feather but weighted with nothing but despair.

The second those words had escaped her lips her mind had only thought of one thing.

Harry.

How's Harry? Would he be joining me? Does he know? The thoughts were drowning her.

"I've died," She repeated. She felt her eyes begin to water. This couldn't be the end could it? She was barely eighteen this was supposed to be where life truly began, not where it ends.

"Not exactly."

The voice made Y/N jump, the room had changed once more at the action. Now it had set the scenery at an oddly familiar place. It took a moment but Y/N had realized where she had seen it before. It was the Potter's house.

And when she turned around to find the voice that had spoken to her, she was met with the two former occupants.

No way.

Y/N believed she must've gone mad.

She had only ever seen them in pictures and visualized them through Harry's descriptions but it was clear as day who they were.

James and Lily.

Harry's parents stood before her.

Y/N swore she felt her heart stop.

"This isn't death, not yet at least." Lily had spoken, her hand clasped around her husbands. "More so of a limbo, a place between life and death."

"I didn't think we'd be getting to meet so soon, Y/N." James had smiled.

Y/N's mouth had opened but no words had come out. Pure shock was all she had felt in the moment.

"I understand the shock, I've been told even in the afterlife i'm devilishly handsome." James grinned, which earned him a light hit on the shoulder from his wife.

Y/N laughed.

"It's alright to be shocked," Lily said soothingly, she had something so comforting about her that made Y/N feel safe. "Meeting the passed parents of your partner doesn't happen everyday."

"I- I just find this all so hard to believe," Y/N had gotten out through a dry throat.

"And that's perfectly fine." James consoled, "What isn't fine is us having to meet you so soon. I mean you're a lovely girl, Y/N, but you shouldn't be here."

"Wait so does that mean-"

"You can go back to the land of the living?" Lily finished, "Yes."

Y/N had let out a happy breath she hadn't known she was holding. She could go home. She could go back to Harry.

"But before you go back," James said, "There's a reason you're here, with us."

Y/N furrowed her brows, only to relax them moments later. It was strange to have them be the ones to find her in her almost death.

"As of right now Harry had given himself up to Voldemort-"

Y/N's happy heart had faltered. "What?! He's not, he can't-"

"He's alright, Y/N." Lily smiled, "He's alive and well, in fact looking for you. The battle is over."

Y/N let out a sigh of relief. It was all over. Harry was safe.

"Though while giving himself up he was struck with the killing curse." James had told, "And in his last moment, his last thought, was you." James and Lily shared a smile, "We hadn't known at the time of you're arrival here but we both hoped that one day, when you got here, we'd meet you for that reason."

Y/N's mouth went slightly ajar. She was feeling too many things at one time to fully find one to express.

"We've seen you two over the years," Lily confessed to the L/N girl, catching her attention again. "All of the ups and downs, the good and the bad and you two have held together through it all. He cares for you in ways that astonish me. The love he holds for you is one that only the books seem to have."

"The way he looks at you is a way I thought only I could have, when I looked at Lily of course." James interjected for a moment, lightly squeezing Lily's hand.

"A look of pure and unconditional love." Lily smiled. "Harry deserves nothing but that. We never thought we'd be thanking you for giving him that this soon, but this was a chance we figured we'd take."

Lily had let go of James's hand and walked towards Y/N, Y/N had stayed still as she had approached her. Dead and yet so alive at the same time. It was wonderous.

"You have given him nothing but the love he deserves. You've cared for him and looked after him like no other, Y/N. We obviously haven't been around to do that and as much as that may always hurt, it's incredible to know that he has you." Lily expressed to her. "I can speak for both James and I when I say we're so, so grateful you've been there for our Harry. You've given him something so incredible, you've given him a reason to keep going and that's more than we ever could've asked for."

"The world was all we ever wanted for Harry," James spoke, "And though he may never get all of that, you've given him more of that than I thought was possible. I'm thankful he has you to lean on, you to love."

Y/N hadn't expected any of this, she hadn't expected to meet the parents of the boy she had loved so much, stand before them in a place between the living and the dead, but in the moment she couldn't find anywhere else she'd prefer to be besides with Harry himself.

"Now," Lily spoke again, sorrow in her tone. "Harry has just found your body in the living side of the world. And as much as I'd like to continue to thank you for all you've done for our boy, I don't want him to go through so much distress in finding you in this state."

Y/N felt a pang of sadness, she wanted to stay for a little longer, this was too short for her liking. But she belonged with the living, she belonged to live besides Harry and celebrate the end of the a lifelong war.

"Thank you," Y/N spoke, "For having such an amazing boy. Thank you for approving of me."

"Thank you for giving him what we couldn't." James grinned.

"I hope to continue this someday in the far, far future," Lily said softly, "Until then, continue giving our boy the love he deserves."

"I promise to never stop," Y/N assured them happily.

She was met with a joyous nod from James and an even brighter smile from Lily.

And then she awoke.

She was back at Hogwarts, her face covered in soot and dirt. Harry leaning over her.

"Y/N!" He exclaimed, relieved, he seemed to have been doing cpr on her. He embraced her quickly, "I was so worried, oh my love, I'm so happy you're alright."

Y/N had still barely processed the interaction she just had but Harry's hug, his presence in general was enough to wash anything away.

"It's over," He confessed to her, "It's all over, darling."

She couldn't imagine a more blissful feeling. Harry Potter was her happiness, her calm after the storm, it didn't matter what happened next for the two of them.

She was going to keep her promise to Lily and keep loving him, with every star in the galaxy, with every fiber of her being, she knew she'd never stop.

And one day, someday, she'd get to tell them she lived up to it.

#hjpslytherclaw #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine #harry james potter fluff #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #harry james potter #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x fem!reader #harry james potter imagine

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wcbblife · 2 months

Note

pls literally anything kate martin it’s so dry out here 🙏🙏 maybe like kate x influncer reader or something idk

Sure can! We'll get through this drought together ✊ (Did I write too much? Yes. Do I regret it? No.)

Kate Martin x influencer/soccer player reader

How you two met: You play for the soccer team at Iowa university. So naturally, after the season ended you usually spend some of your afternoons playing pickup soccer at the local parks nearby to satisfy the itch to always be playing your sport. Another hobby you also like to do a lot is to record your journey. You vlog about your flights, your training, practices, your tips on how to have a balanced life between sports and studies, and some behind the scenes with your team members. You have a fairly large following of 500k subscribers due to your personality and engaging content. On one particular afternoon, your fiery competitive spirit and impressive skills are able to catch the attention of one particular person amidst the small crowd that always gathered to watch the simple matches. It was none other than Kate Martin. Once the match ended you had seen one of your teammates walk over towards you and Kate followed right behind her (since Kate seems so friendly i def think she hangs out with other athletes outside of basketball). As you packed your things, you felt a pair of pretty eyes staring at your every move. You decide to start the convo up by saying that you watch all her games because you love the way she plays. You watch as her cheeks get a little rosy and she goes on a cute little rant about how she watches your vlogs and videos and that, whenever she could, she would drop by to see your team play. You joke that you guys should hang up so she could teach you to play basketball before your teammate says that she and her girlfriend (who was someone you play with and against constantly in these simple matches) had to go. She leaves you alone with Kate and you bring up that you guys should definitely hang out and she brings out the idea of going to recovery together cuz why not since she will undoubtedly be busy with her own season starting. You agree and that’s the beginning of how you two started talking.

How you got close: So as mentioned above, you guys definitely see each other around the athletic and rehab center in the university. Since you practice off season, you prefer to be safe than sorry and attend your recovery session religiously. Thanks to this, you guys are able to strike up conversations here and there but they're never too long. Not until you need to get into the dreaded ice bath for one session after being inexplicably sore for days on end. You decide that it's the perfect time to get your camera out and record your funny reaction to it to later post it. While walking over to your doom, you come face to face with Kate. You shamelessly note that she was wearing really revealing clothes. She smiles and asks where you’re headed and you explain and she immediately asks if she could join you cuz she was going over there too. Once you get there you turn on your camera and explain to the viewers what was going to happen. While you did that, you felt Kate looming behind you. You stop the camera and ask what’s wrong and she gets a little embarrassed asking you cute questions about how the camera worked. You laugh and give her a little class while you two sit side by side while you show her the basics. She jokes that she would love to be your camerawoman and you don’t have it in you to say no. Not with the way she stares at you with her eyes. (Anyway before I get carried away) You set the camera up so that it catches you both while you get into the big tub of ice. She laughs as she watches you shuffle awkwardly towards the cold pit of despair and pokes at you with jokes about how you look rn. You shoot her a look and grab a handful of water to throw her way. She shrieks and grabs your wrist to stop you, letting her hold lingering a little longer than normal (you also note just how strong Kate is). Snapping out of whatever was between you all of the sudden with her touch, you look at the camera and think screw it, getting in hastily without double thinking about it. You regret it immediately, screaming and Kate doubles down with laughter. What she doesn’t expect is for you to yank her inside out of spite. In an attempt to stop herself from falling into the cold water, she holds a hand out towards the edge, but you’ve tugged her down enough for her to have no choice but to step over the edge and fall into the tub. This, however, leads to you being placed in another unfortunate position. She holds the edges of the tub, trying to adjust to the coldness, while single handedly pinning you to the edge of the metal tub. It takes a few seconds to register, especially with you looking up at her while she lets out short puffs of air, while her muscles on her toned stomach contract. Kate seems to notice this and moves back to the other side. You clear your throat and turn to the camera with a funny face while you ignore the rosy blush that has settled on Kate’s face. After this it was just a mixture of flirting and flattery between you too.

She went to see you often when you played and brought you snacks or just went to simply support you. It’s obvious you started to show up more recently to her games to watch her play in person instead of from your home. It’s hard to say if that was the reason, but whenever you went to her games she always showed off. Whether it was double-doubles or even one triple-double. When the games would end she would act all cocky and say that it was normal but you would see the blinding smile on her lips when you would tell her good job. What you liked was how the adrenaline crash would hit her (not in a bad way) after a hard and long game and win. She would be super soft and slow and be all cute. You once insisted on driving her towards her dorms because she was too tired and she insisted on putting on music. You let her ofc and what follows is her singing her heart out while lazily looking over towards you every now and then. She reaches over and uses your hand as a mic and you can’t help but laugh. After a few songs you notice how the playlist switches to flowers songs and Kate never lets go of the hold of your hand.

No question she loves being in your vids. She has also definitely made you do a challenge video about hot sauces (ik it’s random but she def would). Other than that, you both do a bunch of silly challenges together. She also gave you the idea of starting this new “series” of her just basically teaching you the basics for basketball and vice versa. This becomes a huge hit online. What goes on behind the scenes is different tho. On video, you guys seem strictly platonic and playful with you cracking jokes and making fun when you mess up really bad on one certain move. However, once the cameras are off Kate is more free and less tense. She is more touchy, especially when showing you how to shoot the basketball properly (Like you can’t tell me this woman wouldn’t wrap her arms around your shoulders to position your hands on the ball. Don’t even get me started with defense and the way yall would be so close). You (I) also find it lowkey hot whenever you guys are done with your little secession and she’s panting and sweaty. You lowkey like it even more when she gets out of the locker room showers all clean and fresh.

How she asks you out: After basically a few weeks of her popping up in your vids both of your fans suddenly notice you two getting closer and closer. One day you’re recording while walking to get a massage. You turn a corner and come face to face with what seems like a wall. You jump back when you realize you just ran into Kate. You turn the camera off and smile up at her. You ask her where she’s headed but something’s off. You watch as she doesn’t look at you and avoids any type of eye contact as she fumbles over her words. A laugh comes from you as you go up to turn your camera back on but she shocks you by snatching the camera away. You ask her what was wrong and she mumbles something you can’t catch so you ask her to speak up and even get on your tiptoes to lean into her space to hear her better. She tries again and you can faintly hear her asking you out on a date. To say you were shocked was an understatement but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel something forming between you too after these weeks spent together. Ofc you said yes.

You guys go out to a cliche aquarium date (bc i love aquariums what about it). Once you guys get there it seems like something has lifted off her shoulder and she’s acting like a totally different person. She’s more touchy and a real charmer (shamelessly putting an arm around your shoulder and uses her height over you to her advantage. When someone gets too close she definitely stands next to you and the person to create distance and def had a sweet interaction with a kid I mean c'mon). She’s taking sneaky pics of you and trust she would kiss you under those tunnels with the blue lights and fishes, making her look so good after you both tiptoe around it all day.

How it is to date her: (keeping it on the DL is so sexy idc what anyone says) Although Kate isn’t a huge name like Caitlin, you both reach an agreement to keep it on the dl. That and the addition of your evergrowing vlog page. This being said, Kate would appear more in your videos and it’s not really a secret. She shows up in your study videos in the background, helps out with your workout videos, does Q&As with you, and when you're off season she definitely travels with you.

She’s a very caring person and def loves to cuddle after a long day. She also kisses the ground you walk on (You can’t tell me she doesn’t have photo albums of you and her). (Can I also say that she’s a tremendous kisser? TRUST that she will make out with you in a secret room in the stadium because she just can’t wait until you get home after a game). Kate is your personal cheerleader in games and would treat you like a princess after your games (she’s drawing a bath and brushing your hair and basically doing all the work for you while praising you on how well you did).

After a hard loss however it’s a whole different story. You can’t lie tho…It’s your favorite side of Kate. You can see it in her as soon as the buzzer sounds (especially after she scores a lot and still loses oml). Kate basically disappears into the crowd and into the locker room before you can catch her. After a bit of time and unanswered calls and text messages, you decide to walk towards the locker rooms and are surprised when you're tugged into a small storage room. Kate immediately gets to work and smashes her lips with yours and lets her hands wander around you. You just love the way her rosy cheeks look and how sinful her eyes were as she let them shamelessly look you over. Kate isn’t up for any talking tho. Her moves are sloppy and desperate, like she couldn't care less if someone busted you two right then and there. Whenever you try to talk and try to get her to calm down she just goes back and kick starts another makeout sesh.

#kate martin #iowa wbb #wcbb #kate martin x reader #caitlin clark #women's basketball #iowa hawkeyes

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