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soaps-mohawk · 1 month

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 13: Piece Me Back Together

Summary: Your pack deals with the aftermath of your heat.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, handjobs, anal fingering, anal sex, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex irl), spanking (it’s like once), choking (kind of), light Dom/sub dynamics, Johnny's praise kink, excessive use of the word cock, heat cycles, mating cycles, brief mention of blood, brief medical stuff, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, and of course a little fluff

A/N: Well folks, we've made it past the heat portion of the fic. Now things can really start moving. Lots of aftercare, some world building, and of course a little spice at the end for you all to enjoy (as if the last chapter wasn't enough lol). I tried to catch all the possible tags for this one but as always, let me know if I missed one. The smut happens in the very last scene, so if you'd prefer not to read it, then skip that last little bit. You won't really miss much. Also, there's a lot of jumping around in time in this one so I tried to mark when things are happening relative to the present moment in the fic.

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6 Days Ago

“Looks comfortable.”

Kyle glances up as Johnny closes the door to his room, blanket and pillow in hand. “Slept on worse.” He shrugs, glancing down at the cot set up in the hallway before looking back up at Johnny. “Moving out?”

“Camping in Si’s office for the next week. Keep our distance.” He nods at the closed door.

“Probably for the best.” Kyle says. “Have fun!”

“Don’t enjoy yourself too much.” Johnny winks at him before making his way down the hallway and disappearing around the corner.

Kyle shakes his head, starting to sort through the many bags of supplies they’ve stocked up on in preparation for their omega’s heat. They’re well prepared, all of them, for the next week, Kyle especially. He’s spent the last few days reading up on what to expect, how to best help and support his alpha and omega, and what to look out for in case things start going wrong. He doesn’t think they will. He has a lot of faith in Price and he knows Price will take good care of their omega.

Still, he can’t help but feel a bit nervous. He has a big job to do, even though there’s not much to do until after the heat is over with. He just has to ensure Price doesn’t hurt you accidentally, or maul you to death. He doesn’t think that’s likely to happen, but then again, one can never know.

Kyle lets out a shaky breath, grabbing the bags with the electrolytes and nutrient bars before heading for your door.

It’s going to be a long week.

Present Day

It’s quiet. Has been for almost an hour now. Kyle rises from the cot, slipping his phone into his pocket. He slowly approaches the door, leaning in to listen for a moment before putting his hand on the knob. He lets out a breath before pushing the door open slowly, slipping in and closing the door quietly. The smells in the room are worse than they had been last night, a toxic mix of omega, alpha, sex, and sweat. He takes a moment to breathe, adjusting to the scent.

You and Price are spooned together on the bed, asleep, or at least you are. Price had pulled the blankets up around you, tucking you in. Kyle approaches slowly, not wanting to accidentally step on a wrapper and startle either of you and risk you getting scared or Price getting territorial. He brushes the damp strands of hair from your face, your body temperature significantly lower than it had been even last night. He pulls the forehead thermometer from his pocket, taking your temperature quickly before sending a text to Dr. Keller.

He carefully lifts the blankets, checking beneath. You’re still locked together as he expected, and he lowers the blankets back down, tucking you both in again. He unplugs Price’s phone from the charging cord that he’d plugged in last night, rotating it to your phone. He knew the chances of either of you being aware enough to use a phone for anything would be low, but just in case, he kept them both charged.

He tiptoes through the mess of wrappers and bottles, grabbing the bag of trash that he had started a couple days ago. He picks up the mess on the floor, cleaning off the nightstand as well before setting out a new bottle of electrolytes and a couple nutrient bars. There’s still quite a few left, but those could be saved for your next heat.

Price stirs a bit as Kyle sets the bag of trash off to the side next to the bag of things that would have to go to the wash. He hurries over, gently keeping Price from moving too much.

“Easy. You’re still knotted.” He says, putting a hand on Price’s shoulder as you let out a quiet sound. His skin is warm and sticky from sweat, and probably other things.

Price rubs his eyes before blinking up at Kyle. “What day is it?”

“Morning of the sixth day.” He answers, passing Price the bottle of electrolytes. “I think it’s over. Her temperature’s back to normal. Just waiting on Dr. Keller’s opinion.”

Price hums, unscrewing the cap from the bottle before taking a long drink. “Feel like shit.”

Kyle grins. “Been a long week for you, Cap. How do you feel?”

Price screws the cap back on the bottle before leaning over you to place it on the nightstand. “Like I got hit by a truck and rolled down a hill.”

“Speaking from experience, sir?” Kyle smirks.

Price gives him a look before closing his eyes again, relaxing against your back. He lets out a groan as his knot deflates, his cock slipping from your folds. “Christ, that's going to hurt later.”

“Let me get the bath started.” Kyle says, going into your bathroom.

He starts the water, making sure it’s warm enough before he grabs the epsom salt off the counter and adds some in. He leaves the water running as he moves back to the bedroom, helping Price off the bed first. The alpha groans as he stands, leaning heavily against Kyle’s side. Kyle wraps his arm around his shoulders, supporting Price as they make their way to the bathroom.

“I’ve been beaten, tortured, shot. I’ve jumped out of moving cars, been in helicopter crashes.” Price says, grunting as Kyle helps him down into the bath. “This might be the worst I’ve ever felt.”

“Not quite as spry as you used to be, old man?” Kyle teases, making sure he’s comfortable.

“Plenty spry, but god I forgot how energetic omegas can be.” Price leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

“Just relax.” Kyle says, turning off the water. “I’ll bring her in.”

He heads back into your room, approaching the bed. You’re shivering, eyes squeezed closed and eyebrows pinched. Kyle kneels down next to the bed, placing a gentle hand on your arm. You start a bit at the touch, a quiet whimper leaving your lips.

“Shh, easy love.” Kyle tries to soothe you as you shake. “You’re alright.”

You let out a whine, seeking out your alpha in your disoriented state. The bathwater splashes as Price shifts in response to your call, his own instincts still on high alert.

“Let’s get you into the bath.” Kyle says before gently slipping his arms under you and lifting you up.

You let out a whine in protest, your body sore and aching from the last six days. Kyle quickly carries you to the bath, easing you into the water between Price’s legs. You’re trembling, quiet whines leaving your lips as he eases you back against Price’s chest. The alpha wraps his arms around you, a quiet rumble sounding from his chest as he tries to ease your disorientation and discomfort.

Kyle leaves you and Price there to soak as he heads back to the room to strip the sheets and start the laundry. Most of your pillows and stuffed animals are stacked in the corner of the room by your desk, spared from the mess that the bed has turned into. The sheets are still wet with a concoction of fluids, and he knows they’ll need to soak for a while. He stuffs them into the bag with your clothes, along with your blankets, before he heads down the hall to the laundry room.

He checks on you and Price when he returns, both of you content still in the bath. He can’t help but smile as he watches the two of you, pride swelling in his chest at the sight of his alpha taking care of their omega.

Their omega.

It seems almost strange to think now. They’d gone so long without an omega, and thought they wouldn’t be getting one. Now, six weeks later, they’ve all fallen head over heels for a little omega none of them even knew they needed. He can’t imagine life without an omega now, how well you fit into their pack, how well you fit with all of them, how you’ve only served to make them stronger and more efficient.

He hates to admit that perhaps Laswell was right.

Maybe they did need you after all.

Kyle bags up the plastic mattress protector, glad to see it did its job. He replaces the sheets and blankets for now, knowing you’ll want to nest once you’re more aware. He checks his phone before heading back into the bathroom, kneeling down next to the tub. Your shaking has subsided, reduced to a shudder here and there as you’ve slowly relaxed in the hot water.

Kyle grabs a cloth and your body wash, starting to gently clean your skin, or at least get the sweat and other fluids off. Bruises litter your skin and the claiming mark on your shoulder is scabbed and angry. Kyle carefully washes it, not wanting to apply too much pressure as he cleans off the dried blood still stuck to your skin. He knows it’s going to hurt for a while.

“What did Dr. Keller say?” Price asks as he helps ease you up so Kyle can wash your back.

“Said if her temperature is normal then the worst is over.” Kyle answers. “She wants to do a check up soon, make sure everything’s alright. Said she’d come here to do it, if that’s alright.”

Price grunts quietly as Kyle starts to wash his chest. “That’s fine. Easier than going all the way to the medical building. Simon and Johnny?”

“Fine.” Kyle answers. “Been keeping busy running drills and stuff. Johnny’s been keeping Simon occupied.”

Price hums, letting his eyes close as Kyle washes his neck and shoulders. “Good.”

Kyle makes sure to get all of the soap rinsed off before pulling the plug on the water, carefully lifting you up to stand. He lets you lean against him, grabbing one of the towels to dry you off as best he can. Price gets himself standing, drying himself off as Kyle helps you back to bed. Price joins you, wrapping his arms around you tight as Kyle tucks the blankets up around you both.

“Can I get you anything?” Kyle asks as he sets a new bottle of electrolytes on the nightstand. “Real food maybe?”

“I’d kill for some bangers and mash, maybe a pint.” Price says, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’ll see what I can scrounge up.” Kyle says, glancing at you one last time before he leaves the room.

Your body aches. There’s a deep soreness in your muscles, and a painful throb between your legs. Your skin feels raw and tight, and there's a steady pulse behind your eyes. A quiet sound leaves your lips before you can stop it, the sound cracking and broken from your raw throat. There's a desert in your mouth again, your tongue dry and heavy in your mouth.

Your thoughts are dragged away from the agony in your body as a quiet rumbling starts somewhere in front of you, your brain going quiet except for the need to seek it out. You press yourself closer to it, meeting warm skin as you try to get closer and closer. You want to bury yourself in it, seep into its depths until you can feel the vibrations of it in your bones. Arms wrap around you, pulling you in closer until you're squished against a bare chest.

You press your face against the soft skin, trying to get closer to the rumbling purr vibrating from deep within. You let out another sound, body going lax as the purr lulls you into a relaxed state. The tension leaves your body, easing the ache in your muscles a bit. Not much, but enough to pull a relieved sigh from your lips.

“Easy, love.” A quiet voice says, another hand touching your back.

You tense slightly at the intrusion on your safe space, but quickly relax as the hand stills on your skin. The calming scent of beta overtakes you, easing your mind to a quiet hum as your alpha and beta work to calm you. You feel a bit disoriented as reality slowly begins to return, seeping back into your brain.

You went into heat.

You remember waking up with the blistering inferno burning hot within you, the insatiable need pulsing between your legs. You remember Kyle being there, the soft scent of him as he helped you prepare, pulling off your clothes and making you drink some of the electrolytes. You remember John entering the room, the way his scent made your brain feel like mush. You remember him sinking his teeth into your shoulder, his knot forcing you open before everything went dark.

Everything else is a dark blur, wiped from your memory after your instincts took over.

You shift against the body you’re pressed close to, a deep ache rippling through you. It hurts, everything hurts. Your hips are sore, your shoulder is throbbing, every muscle feels like you just did a triathlon with no training, and there’s a sharp throbbing between your thighs.

You’re crying before you even realize it, the tears uncontrollable as they slide down your cheeks, the quiet sniffles and sobs aggravating your already aching body. The arms around you tighten, the purring getting louder, but you can’t stop the onslaught of tears.

You flinch as something tickles the skin of your forehead, chapped lips pressing a soft kiss to your hairline. You let out a whine as you continue to cry, your mind a swirl of confusion and disorientation as you try to come to terms with everything that’s happened. You don’t know how long it’s been, what day it is. You don’t even know what happened to you in the last week.

You continue to cry, oblivious to the conversation happening over you, the gentle purring in your ears lulling you into a dazed state as you float in and out of consciousness. The pain of being moved momentarily brings you back before you settle again, laying back against a chest. A baggy shirt is pulled over your head, smelling of your alpha. The fabric feels different than it had days ago when you’d woken up in the throes of your heat. It’s soft, not offending, and it offers you warmth and comfort.

You don’t want to move, you don’t want to do anything. Exhaustion pulls at the edges of your mind as you lay there, the tears still streaming down your cheeks.

He hasn’t stopped purring since you woke up. The low rumble in his chest hasn’t stopped, and neither has the ache blooming there since you started crying. Even in your dazed, half asleep state, the tears still roll down your cheeks, quiet shaky breaths catching every so often. He’s not sure what to do, how to help. He’s never been with an omega that’s cried before. Not like this.

His purring kicks up in volume as you startle awake when the door opens, letting out a broken whimper as your space suddenly gets invaded. He tries to soothe you, his arms tightening around you to try and ground you in his presence.

“Hi, honey.” Dr. Keller says, kneeling down next to the bed, her voice soft and the scent of beta thick in the air. “Still a bit out of it, huh?”

“She hasn’t stopped crying since she woke up.” He says, rubbing gentle circles on your arm with his thumb.

“That’s not unusual.” Dr. Keller says, digging through her bag to pull out a thermometer. “There’s a lot going on right now for her. Besides the exhaustion and the confusion and the pain, there’s a lot of rapid hormonal changes happening. Some omegas can just wake up and hop out of it immediately and be just fine.”

John frees one of your arms so Dr. Keller can take your pulse and blood pressure.

“Others might struggle a bit more.” She continues. “Purebred omegas especially have a hard time coming out of it. They’re more sensitive to those instincts and the sudden cut off of them is rather jarring.” She puts her equipment back in her bag. “Her vitals look good, which makes me confident to hold off on any further examinations until she’s more alert and aware.”

“Are there things we should look out for?” Kyle asks.

“She’s going to be drowsy and fatigued for a while, but if you can’t wake her at all, call me. If her breathing gets shallow or her pulse weakens or she starts developing a fever again, call me. Also check for blood the next time she uses the bathroom. Her vitals aren’t showing any indication of internal injuries, though, so I think she’ll be just fine.” She pulls a pill bottle from her bag. “I’ve prescribed some muscle relaxers for her. There’s a week’s worth in there. It’ll help with the pain and discomfort, but they will make her sleepy. The best thing she can do right now is rest and recover. Once she’s more aware, you can try some soft foods and lots of liquids. If she’s really struggling, I can set up an IV and get some fluids into her, perk her up a bit.”

“Thank you.” John says, shifting you slightly so Dr. Keller can look at the bite mark on your shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” She asks him, pulling out a disinfectant wipe.

“Sore.” John huffs out a laugh. “Nothing I can’t handle, though.”

Dr. Keller hums as she cleans the wound on your shoulder. “I know I’m not here to give you medical advice, but as your omega’s doctor I feel the need to remind you not to ignore your own symptoms. She needs you right now, more than ever. So don’t try to macho man your way through anything. You need to rest just as much as she does.”

“Yes, doctor.” He grumbles, adjusting your shirt once she’s done.

Dr. Keller gives him a smile. “You did a good job.” She turns to Kyle. “Both of you. Don’t hesitate to call me. It’s what I’m here for.”

A smile tugs at John’s lips as Kyle practically beams from Dr. Keller’s praise. He did do a good job. You’re both still breathing after all.

3 Days Ago

“I cannae take anymore.” Johnny pants, his breaths near wheezes as he rests his hands on his knees. “Ye said you'd go easy on me.”

“I never promised anything, Johnny.” Simon says, standing behind him.

“Hell's bells, L.T.” Johnny groans, dropping to his hands and knees. “Gonna kill me at this rate.”

“Don't be dramatic. C'mon, again.”

“Uh uh.” Johnny says, flopping onto his side on the ground. “Am pure done in! ‘S almost lunch anyway.” He rolls onto his back, looking in the direction of the barracks as he wipes the sweat from his brow. “Think they're havin’ fun?”

Simon looks down at him, looming over him like a shadow. “Probably seems like it right now. Be a different story when it’s done.”

“Sometimes I wish I knew what it was like.” Johnny says, turning his gaze up to Simon's face. He can't see much under the mask, and right now is one of those moments when he wishes he could.

“You really don't. It's messy and gory.” Simon offers him a hand, helping Johnny to his feet. “Gotta be prepared to pick up the pieces afterwards.” Simon turns, heading in the direction of the barracks.

“That why you've never taken an omega?” Johnny asks, following him.

Simon stops dead in his tracks, turning to look at Johnny. Johnny's back straightens at the look in Simon's eyes. No, not Simon. Ghost. He's looking at Ghost again.

“Drop it. Or I'll make you do another lap.” Ghost says, his voice taking on the low rasp he gets when he's shifted into the laser focused headspace of the Lieutenant.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny says, following after Ghost as they head back towards the barracks.

Ghost slips into the showers once they enter, Johnny heading to the corner to peek down the hallway towards their rooms. It's quiet now. It hadn't been when they left earlier. He could hear it as they passed the hall to go out the door, the distant sound of moans and the bedframe knocking against the wall. He had fought the erection threatening to tent his shorts all the way to the field. He knows heats are no light matter, but the mental image he's drawn up of you blissed out, mouth open as you moan, back arching in pleasure has been plaguing him for nearly two weeks. He's desperate, practically chomping at the bit to get a chance to see it himself first hand, to see the real thing putting his mental image to shame.

He makes his way down the hallway, keeping a respectful distance between himself and your room. Kyle looks up from his spot on the bed where he'd been scrolling on his phone.

“How're they doin’?” Johnny asks, wiping the sweat from his face.

“Alright. Sleeping for the moment.” Kyle answers. Johnny can only imagine the torture of having to sit and listen to nonstop fucking for the last three days.

“We're gonna grab lunch soon. Want us tae bring ye somethin’?”

Kyle nods. “Sure. That'd be great.”

“Ye got it.” Johnny nods, passing a glance at your door before looking back to Kyle. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, mate.” Kyle says, watching his fellow beta walk back down the hall.

Johnny glances up from his phone as Simon huffs out what's the tenth sigh in the last three minutes. The alpha is seated at his desk, clicking away at something on his computer and occasionally mashing away at the keyboard rather harshly. Johnny's surprised he hasn't cracked a key yet, or just thrown the whole thing out the window. The beta can see how tightly his alpha is wrung by the tenseness in his shoulders, the hard set of his brow, the set line of his lips, the occasional tick of his jaw.

“What's got ye all riled up?” Johnny finally breaks the silence, setting his phone aside.

“Nothing.” Simon grumbles, ignoring Johnny's gaze.

Johnny’s brow furrows and he pushes himself to stand, moving over to Simon’s side. “Doesnae seem like nothin’ to me.” He puts his hands on Simon’s broad shoulders, squeezing them, feeling the tension in his muscles. “Awful tense, Si.”

“Leave it, Johnny.” Simon grumbles, trying to swat the beta away, but he’s insistent.

“Wouldnae be a little omega getting you so tense, would it?” Johnny teases.

Simon turns to him, his eyes darkening. His jaw clenches, hands closing into fists where they sit on the armrests of his chair. “Don’t push it, Johnny.” His voice has that deep rumble to it, the threat of his alpha coming through.

Johnny stares at him, feeling the danger prickling at the back of his neck, but at the same time, he wants to push that boundary. He wants to see just how far he can push his alpha until he finally gives in.

“I don’t know why ye keep torturing yourself like this, Si. Ye know ye like her. She’d be more’n willing-”

“That’s the problem.” Simon snaps, pushing himself up from his seat, forcing Johnny to take a step back. “She’s not doing this because she wants to. She’s only doing this because she’s been told to do it.”

“She’s an omega. Her whole life was going tae be people tellin’ her what to do and forcin’ her tae do things, even if she didn’t want to. Ye think things would have been different if she’d been put with a different pack?” Johnny doesn’t back down from Simon’s glare, having been on the receiving end of it enough times now he’s almost immune to it. “Things could have been a lot worse for her. She might not have wanted to be here, but she is. Ye can’t change that, Si. No matter how badly you might want to.”

Johnny can tell by the slow fall to Simon’s tense shoulders that he’s struck home. The situation wasn’t ideal, but it’s what they were dealt. You’re here with them, and he’s going to make sure you feel as comfortable as possible.

Simon lets out another sigh, turning away from Johnny to crawl into their makeshift bed. He lays down with a huff, closing his eyes. Johnny smirks, slowly crawling onto the two cots pushed together, laying down right next to Simon. He rests his hand on Simon’s thigh, feeling the powerful muscle flex under his hand. He slowly begins to drag it higher, Simon’s eyes opening again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon rasps, but he doesn’t move, even as Johnny reaches the junction of his hip and thigh.

“Yer all worked up, big guy.” Johnny says, leaning his head on his hand, slowly moving his hand over Simon’s very prominent bulge. “Thought I’d help ye.”

“What makes you think I want your help?” Simon says, still laying still.

Johnny lifts his brows, slowly rubbing Simon through his pants. “This looks rather painful, and I seem to be the only option to help, since everyone else is rather occupied-”

Johnny’s words are cut off as he finds himself suddenly on his back, Simon’s hand around his throat. The alpha is leaning over him, a deep rumble vibrating through his chest. “You talk too much, Johnny.” Simon rumbles, leaning close to the beta’s face.

“I’ve been told tha’ before.” Johnny says, leaning up to try and kiss his alpha, but Simon backs away before he can make contact. “By you if I remember correctly.”

Simon’s fingers flex around his throat, a moan spilling from his lips as Simon grinds his hips against Johnny’s. His cock is hard in his pants, has been for a while. He’s not sure if it’s from the lewd thoughts that have been plaguing his mind since you first kissed him, weeks ago, or if it’s just a response to the knowledge that you’re currently fucking their pack alpha like your life depends on it.

Johnny lets out a whimper, bucking up against Simon desperately. Simon tuts at him, pressing against his throat to keep him still on the bed as he sits himself up on top of the beta.

“Naughty little thing.” Simon says, staring down into his blue eyes. “Know you’ve been thinking about sinking your cock into the new little omega for weeks.” Johnny lets out a whine, his cock twitching in his pants. “I don’t think you’ll even make it that long, will you pup?” Simon chuckles. “Gonna cum in your pants as soon as you see her tits, huh?” Simon presses down, putting more pressure against his cock as he rubs it through his pants. “Gonna cum in your pants just thinking about it.”

Johnny holds his breath, trying to focus anywhere except for Simon’s hand. He squeezes his eyes closed as Simon undoes the button on his cargo pants, releasing his throat to tug the fabric down around his knees.

“Bloody hell.” Simon says, wrapping a hand around Johnny’s hard cock. “Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“I thought Kyle’s was the prettiest.” Johnny says, opening his eyes to glance down at his alpha.

“Kyle’s just pretty.” Simon says, slowly stroking Johnny’s cock. “You have the prettiest cock.”

“Christ...” Johnny breathes as Simon continues to jerk his cock, his hips bucking as he can feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge.

A pathetic whimper leaves Johnny’s lips as Simon pulls his hand away, sitting up on his knees over his beta. He undoes his belt, tossing it to the floor before undoing his pants, pulling them and his briefs down to release his own throbbing cock. Johnny licks his lips as Simon fists his own cock, slowly stroking it.

“Turn around. Let me see that pretty ass.” Simon says.

“Yes, sir.” Johnny smirks, wiggling himself until he’s flat on his stomach, pushing his ass into the air as best he can with his legs trapped between Simon’s.

Simon purrs quietly at Johnny’s response, running his hands over his beta’s pert cheeks. “Prettiest ass too.” He murmurs, gently spreading his cheeks.

“I’m startin’ to think I might be the prettiest.” Johnny says, gasping quietly as a glob of warm spit hits his hole.

“Give me a night with Kyle and I’ll get back to you on that.” Simon says, pressing a finger into Johnny’s ass.

Johnny groans, pressing his face into the pillow. “Fucking Christ.”

“You can take it.” Simon soothes him, reaching down to fish the lube out of the bag he’d tossed it in last night. He squirts some on his finger before pressing further in, spreading Johnny’s ass open. “Good boy.”

Johnny nearly melts into the cot, letting out a pathetic sound as Simon adds a second finger. He’s still sore from the last three days, but his drive to please his alpha pushes away any sensitivity he’s feeling. That, and the lust burning hot in him. Betas don’t have heat cycles, but he might as well be in the middle of one with how horny he’s been these last few days. He knows part of it is Simon being worked up by the knowledge that there’s an omega in heat nearby, and his own body reacting to his alpha. He’s never been around an omega in heat, and he doesn’t think Simon has either.

He’s not sure Simon has ever been with an omega at all before.

More cold lube hits his hole, a second finger pressing in. He gasps at the stretch, squeezing around Simon’s thick fingers. Simon’s other hand trails up his back, pushing his shirt up as he goes. Johnny pushes himself up slightly, tugging the fabric over his head before he relaxes back down against the blankets.

Simon presses a third finger in, working Johnny open with what still won’t be enough, but Johnny won’t complain. He’s taken his alpha before. He’ll do it gladly again.

“Fuck, Johnny.” Simon grunts as Johnny squeezes around his fingers again.

“Cannae help it.” Johnny whines. “Feels too good.”

“Didn’t say you could cum yet.” Simon says, removing his fingers. “Naughty pup.”

Johnny lets out a pathetic sounding whimper, pressing his ass up to try and chase Simon’s fingers. He yelps as Simon’s hand meets his skin, his hips dropping back to the bed at the force of Simon’s spank.

“Stay still.” Simon growls, the cap of the lube popping open again.

Johnny does as he’s told, keeping himself still as Simon prepares himself. He groans as the tip of Simon’s cock presses against his hole, his hands fisting the sheets at the stretch. Simon’s hand rubs his back, trying to get him to relax. Johnny breathes, forcing himself to go lax, letting Simon slip in further.

“Good boy.” Simon groans, bracing himself on the bed as he presses further and further into Johnny’s tight hole. “That’s my good boy. You can take it.”

“Fuck!” Johnny groans, practically preening from the praise.

“That’s it.” Simon groans, pressing in until his hips are flush with Johnny’s ass. “Bloody fucking hell.”

Johnny’s mind goes blank as he’s filled, all thoughts leaving at the feeling of his alpha inside of him. He’s panting already, stretched open around his alpha’s cock. Simon begins to move, rocking his hips slowly, drawing his cock out before pushing it back in. Johnny whines, pushing back against Simon, needing more.

“Please...” Johnny begs. “Please alpha!”

“Fuck.” Simon grunts, bracing himself further before snapping his hips against Johnny. “Like that? That what you want, pup?”

Johnny almost yelps at the sensation, hands fisting the blankets as his body rocks forward on the cot. “Fuck, yes!”

Simon sets a brutal pace, hips snapping against Johnny’s ass. Pleasure numbs Johnny’s mind as the sensation of Simon inside of him. His cock is trapped between his body and the cot, dragging against the blankets with every thrust. He’s going to cum soon, he knows that. He won’t be able to hold it, not with how sensitive he already is.

“Gonna cum, can’t hold it!” He whines, pushing back against Simon’s thrusts for more friction. “Fuck, alpha!”

Johnny cums quickly with a groan, the blankets getting damp under him as he shakes in his release. Simon doesn’t stop, undeterred by Johnny’s clenching around him in his orgasm. He’s going to ring a few more out of Johnny before he’s done.

They’re both in for a long night.

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #x reader #captain price x reader #John price x reader #gaz x reader #Kyle gaz Garrick x reader #soap x reader #John soap mactavish x reader #Simon Riley x reader #Simon ghost Riley x reader #a/b/o #alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics #Omegaverse

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ghost-proofbaby · 2 months

Note

15 with Eddie? :)

i woke up this morning, rolled over, and immediately wrote this all on my phone. wasn't even 8 am and i was already all mushy and horny for this man. enjoy whatever this is (morning sex. it's morning sex and being in love) <3

15. "I had a very nice dream that started like this."

warnings: smut, p in v, oral (f receiving), afab reader but no pronouns used, a lot of religious imagery idk why it just... worked?, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: eddie munson x afab!reader

wc: 2.9k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

The sun hadn’t even rose yet. The sky simply lighter, a gentle omniscient light peaking through the curtains, holding little to no warmth yet when you first awoke. The room is shades of grey with hints of violet, soft pinks just on the horizon but not quite painting the scene.

It’s nice — it’s serene.

You can feel him breathing behind you. Still there, still warm, still holding you with one strong arm around your waist as his nose brushes at the nape of your neck, his snore rustling your hair ever so carefully. It’s almost enough to soothe you back to sleep; counting his deep intakes of air, exhaling in time with him, sinking deeper into bed sheets that are stained with the smell of his cologne and shampoo. Almost.

But when you first awake, you have a different idea in mind.

It starts off innocent enough. Small movements as you press yourself further back into Eddie, minuscule wiggles to just be close to him. You’re still half asleep and yet, every atom in your body is desperate to melt into him. You need every inch of his skin pressed tightly into yours. Your vision still blurry, but the instinct to burrow more tightly into your boy impossible to miss.

“I know you’re awake,” he suddenly murmurs into your neck, voice muffled and rough with his rest.

You hadn’t even noticed the change in his breathing. More focused on the ache between your thighs that you had woken up with.

“Sh,” you jokingly whisper, smiling as you force your eyes back closed. He can’t even see your face, but it feels right to put on an act, “You’re gonna ruin it, Munson.”

“‘M not ruining anything, baby,” he nearly slurs. His arm tightens around you, encouraging all your squirming, pulling your hips back to be flush with his a little more urgently.

He’s hard against your lower back. His flimsy boxers do nothing to hide his excitement. It isn’t particularly surprising — most mornings he wakes up hard as it is — but it does cause a soft stirring within you. Encourages your hips to swivel once more, action a bit more pointed, just enough pressure to cause a low groan to slip almost inaudible from between his lips.

“Careful,” he warns, voice a bit louder now. His tone is still gravely, scratching an itch of the farthest reaches of your mind. Somewhere between a cat’s purr and the sound of tires on dirt roads when your favorite person is returning home. Comforting. Serene.

You press into him further, shamelessly grinding now, eyes still shut, “What? ‘M not doing anything.”

He doesn’t need to see your voice to hear that sleepy grin.

It doesn’t happen quickly — there’s no rush as he slowly tugs at your body, encouraging you to rotate so that he’s no longer spooning you. Your back digs into the mattress holding the warmth of his body from the entire night, wrapping you up in a bliss that’s impossible to replicate. His smell, his warmth, his presence. You don’t think you’ll ever tire of mornings like this, especially not when you finally open your eyes to find him propped up on his elbow, looking down at you with half-lidded eyes and a half-smile that accentuates his left dimple.

He’s fucking beautiful. It takes your breath away.

“What’s got you so excited this morning, hm?”

The light has grown ever so slightly brighter, just enough as though it whispers, look at him. The room is still grey, but your boy is a vision of colors. Dark russet eyes with streaks of gold that the sun couldn’t compare to, chestnut hair that sticks up in all the wrong places from his slumber, skin that washes out in the pale winter morning and only makes the contrast of the soft fuchsias and violets blooming along his neck from the evening before more apparent. He’s softer than any sunrise, more relaxing than any bath he’s ever drawn for you, more calming than hearing your favorite song strummed out on muted guitar strings.

You love him. And that only really fuels your flames.

“I had a very nice dream,” you mumble, squinting up at him, bringing a hand up to his cheek. Your touch is delicate as you trace over his stubble, painting mindless patterns briefly before cupping the full side of his face and threading your fingertips into the edges of his hairline, “A very nice dream that started just like this.”

He rolls his hips against your side, peering down at you as he does so, letting you guide him closer until his lips barely brush yours.

You can hear birds chirping outside. There’s the rumble of a truck engine. The creak of a nearby front door opening and shutting.

The world is beginning to wake up, but you’re not quite yet ready to share the day with anyone but him.

“You did, did you?” he’s awake enough now to tease you, body slowly inching its way over yours, arms on either side of your head to hold his weight. The plush comforter slips down, exposing his bare shoulders as his torso serves as your new blanket, “Tell me ‘bout it, baby.”

Your legs fall open instinctively, making a home for him and only him. A space between your thighs perfectly carved out for the shape and weight of him as he slips into place, hips digging into yours, a homely and familiar position you’ve found yourself in a hundred times before.

It never gets old. It never elicits any less of a reaction from you, always pulling the softest of gasps from your throat as he leans his head down to trail his lips down your exposed neck.

The sound has him pulling you into him a bit more urgently, but his pace never quickens. He’s taking his time. You two have all the time.

A car alarm, distant as could be, sounds off. A voice of a neighbor echos across the trailer park.

Maybe it’s an adoring husband wishing goodbye to his wife for the day. Or a mother, rushing her children for school. There’s a million and one scenarios, thousands of strangers beginning their dreary week, but you only care about the warm welcome of the day that he offers you.

Anything but dreary, even in tired morning light.

“You were kissing my neck,” you say, careful to be as silent as can be, even if it were just the two of you in the room. The world doesn’t need to know you’re awake yet; it doesn’t deserve your attention like he does yet.

His teeth graze unintentionally against the soft spot below your ear, “Like this?”

“Just like that.”

For emphasis, you lift your hips, seeking out his with ease. You can feel him, pronounced as he presses against the thin fabric of your underwear. There’s too many layers between the two of you, too much cotton and linen in the shapes of his t-shirt you’d worn to bed and his damn boxers, but they’ll come off eventually.

Eventually. There’s no rush.

Your head tilts back in a sigh, and he pauses all his kisses to ask, “What next?”

“Keep going,” you squirm, hips continuing to roll, flames of desire lighting in your gut, dancing as soft as the morning light, “Keep going, please.”

The night before, he would have teased your desperation.

But right now, with just you and him and the ghost of sleep, he’s not in the business of taunting.

He listens, a hand coming down to your hip. Not holding it down to the mattress, but simply holding. He lets his thumb slip beneath the t-shirt, lets a rough callous built up from years of guitar and working on his van brush roughly over your skin with the most sensitive of intentions.

Slowly. If the morning wasn’t so heavy still on the two of you, weighing down every movement, slowing every reaction and pacing every adoring kiss, this is the part where the two of you might have grown a bit impatient. More nipping, more bruising gripping, more complaints of going further, further, further.

But today? In this moment? The two of you have time.

A dream sequence of his wandering hands slipping that old faded tee up until it’s finally bunched at your chest, until he’s finally peeling himself away from your body and he’s lifting it over your head. Every move is brimming with a love you never thought possible. A love to swim in, a love to sink into. One with the capability to drown the two of you, but it only breathes a new life into both of your lungs.

When his lips wrap around a nipple and your back arches, that love thrums a bit deeper, coiling up your insides and urging your fingers to tangle up into his curls.

You need him closer.

“So beautiful,” he whispers against your skin as he mouths at it, “So, so fucking beautiful.”

The back of your skull digs deeper into a pillow engrained with the shape of your head from years of rest, a soft laugh slipping in between your blissful breaths, “Don’t lie. I’m a mess right now.”

You were. And so was he. In a barely awake, subtle and tired way. Messy hair, messy marks of sleep across cheeks, messy breaths not yet minty from a morning routine the two of you followed like a religion.

His head lifts, eyes glowing in the limited light, “I like your mess. As a matter of fact, I love your mess.”

His hand on your hip squeezes for emphasis.

You look down, wordless as you drink him in. A vision between the pinks dancing through the curtains, a godly presence as the dawn breaks. He’s a salvation, a new beginning and a new ending. He’s everything fairytales had tried to convince you existed in your youth. Prettier than any angel, warmer than any sun.

And he’s yours. In this moment, and in all the next ones.

“I think I can make an even bigger mess of you, though, if you’ll let me,” a devilish smile finally overtakes his features and both of those dimples you’ve become so unintentionally fond of make an appearance.

He dips his head, lowers his voice, lets his lips explore. You nearly pray to the Heavens above as you feel his hand slip from its gentle cupping of your hip, moving to slip nimble fingers beneath the band of your panties — but you don’t. Not a single God would care about what’s happening right now.

Just two people, two souls, twisting up in their bed sheets. Finding each other, finding divinity, before the sun even has a chance to stretch its arms fully over the horizon.

When he sinks lower and his face disappears beneath the cloak of the comforter, you hold your breath. When his mouth finds your cunt over fabric, you release it with a moan.

“That’s it, baby,” he encourages, both hands pulling off your underwear, pressing a hard kiss one final time over the cotton before he slips them off, “Keep making those pretty noises for me.”

Your thighs drape over his shoulders, heels digging into his back as he begins his morning worship. All lips and tongue and finding the right places as fast as possible. Not out of a rush, but out of practice. He knows your body like the back of his hand, and he proves it.

He knows exactly how hard to suck on your clit once he’s captured it between his lips. He knows exactly where to trace his tongue, circling your hole in lazy circles, not quite teasing but not quite succumbing as he lets you buck your hips in reckless abandon. When to speed up, when to slow down, when to add a finger and when to let the gravel of his voice vibrate against your core — he knows you. Through every little whimper, through every soft chanting of his name, through every tug of his hair.

And he knows you well enough to know when to stop his ministrations, pulling back only to crawl his way back up your body, his boxers slipping off somewhere in the process.

You’re still all over his lips as he kisses you fervently, slick and sticky and a little tart as his tongue dives into your mouth.

And just as he knows you, you know him.

You’d lied, of course. You hadn’t really had a dream just like this. You can’t even remember how you’d awoken with such want, but all that mattered is you had. You’d woken up to an all-consuming need, even if your half-conscious state, and you’d woken up to him.

Your hand reaches down between the two of you, wrapping around him carefully. Your skin is still cooler than his, it’s always cooler than his in the dead of night, and he hisses at the content.

“I love you, you know?” you quietly confess to your lover, as though it might be a sin, as though it might be the greatest secret to ever be held on a patient tongue.

His skin is nearly velvet under your touch, pliant in your palm as you stroke him. Each movement and twist of your wrist begins to unravel him, his head dropping to the juncture between your shoulder and your neck. Every pant of his breath brushes skin just as his snores had.

Gold litters the shade of sunrise entering the room, but the only warm colors you care to entertain are the ones in his eyes as he finally looks at you and tugs your hand away.

“I love you more.”

You could argue. You could fight him on it, start to rattle off your list of all the things you adore about him, prove that no one has ever loved another person in this lifetime the way that you’ve loved him. The freckle below his right eye, the chip in on of his canines from an accident in his youth, the scar on his left knuckles from the first time he’d tried to do a trick with a butterfly knife at nine years old. The jokes he interrupts your day so kindly with, breaking up the mundane with laughter that seemingly fuels you to carry on with your time until you’ve returned home to just him. The passion that flows inside of him until it pours out over everything sacred to him — his music, his interests, his friends, you. A passionate and devoted man, yours to have and yours to hold.

But you don’t argue the point. You just smile as he kisses you, deep and searching, as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He loves you more, you love him most. He’ll figure it out — eventually.

The stretch of him is pleasurable, just like it always is. Filling you, warming you, making that closer you crave so ardently nearly tangible. Every roll of his hips has him reaching spots inside of you to elicit stars to cloud your vision. The morning light, the white hot pleasure — you don’t care what makes your vision blue. You only care that it does, all your mews and all his groans entangling up in the air.

Your palms slide over the back of his shoulders, your fingers dig into soft skin that you’ll spend the rest of your days memorizing.

Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

No prayer has ever been repeated with such need or belief as his name from your lips.

And he returns the favor. Gasping out your name, somehow finding himself just enough in his right mind to continue to whisper sweet nothings against your ear, timing them with his leisurely thrusts.

“So fucking tight and so fucking good to me,” he manages to gasp, digging his hips in a little harsher, “Could stay here forever. Kind of want to stay here forever.”

You don’t know how he’s coherent; you can’t form a single response, eyes rolling, hands clinging to him tighter.

“Look at me when you cum.”

He knows you. He knows you very well. You hadn’t even noticed that coiling in your stomach or the fluttering of your walls when he calls you out, forehead pressing to yours as your eyes open to find his.

It’s not world-shattering when the waves come — it doesn’t have to be. It’s something to wrap around your entire essence, something to soothe and something to coax you into oblivion. Something to get lost in as his movements stutter and his own eyes grow heavy.

He doesn’t close his eyes, and neither do you. Lost in that pleasure, and lost in each other.

You’re still rhythmically clenching around him when he comes, filling you up with warmth, burying deep in you and holding there as his mouth falls open and you're quick to pepper his outstretched neck with kisses. The smallest reminders of all the love you have for him. The gentlest of devotions, sprinkled across the skin of a man who will always know an affection like no other. Not everyone in the world will be so lucky as to know the fondness you offer him, and as far as you’re concerned, that’s how it should be.

Curses spill as his movements slow, before finally stilling. He drops his weight onto you, exhaustion finding its way back into his bones.

There’s things to do, a day to begin. Work and people waiting on you two, responsibilities to worry about and daily mundane accomplishments to achieve. But for now, it’s just the two of you. Awake with the rest of the world, but completely separate as you cradle him and he holds you.

“That was one Hell of a way to wake up, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, and you only throw your head back in a laugh.

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#ghost's stories #smutty party #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #i just really like the idea of waking up to eddie #especially like this #i wrote this half asleep so it might not be the best my brain wasn't really working #i just needed to write it out before work and before i got out of bed #the run on sentences in this one are strong

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mrdixon · 4 months

Text

bread and tomato soup

pairing: established daryl x f!reader

wc: 5.4k

warnings: 18+ content, lots of plot, insecurity, the bath scene, readers on top!, not much of a power dynamic here, but theres teasing, squirting, little teeny bit of fingering, bit of a creampie too, daryl being cute

summary: daryl returns after three weeks, and reader decides to take care of him.

A/N: its january 3rd which means its MY BIRTHDAY :3 so here is just a fic about taking care of daryl in multiple different ways ;3 also just an excuse to talk about food im starving

masterlist

The house smelled of bread, the tap running as you washed your hands under it. Daryl has been on an expedition for about three weeks now, leaving you with nothing else to do but keep yourself busy. You got a lot of stuff done but you were still lonely.

You hummed to yourself as you moved over to the stove, taking a wooden spoon and stirring the tomato soup you were cooking. The sun was just starting to set, golden rays peeked through the curtains to leave kisses on your cheeks when you turned your head to the right. You lifted the spoon up to your lips, savouring the savoury but sweet taste of the soup. Something was missing, perhaps a bit of garlic? Thyme? You put some more of both in, stirring the soup a bit before tasting it again. A smile appeared on your face after deciding it was good enough, turning off the stove and putting the lid on top of the pot.

You bent down to check on the bread in the oven, the smell of sweet yeast filling your nostrils. It was perfect, nicely rounded and crisp on the outside. Closing the oven, you turned it off and reached back to undo your apron.

You almost missed the sound of the door opening, but you didn't. You quickly ran out of the kitchen and towards the entryway, seeing Daryl wiping his boots on the mat. You didn't think twice before jumping at him, hearing a grunt from him as he caught you with one arm, the other holding his bag. You kissed his cheeks repeatedly, his face scrunching up while the hand on your back gently rubbed you.

“Alrigh’ not too much,” he mumbled before setting you down and kissing your forehead. You looked down sheepishly, hugging him again.

“Sorry, I missed you.” You murmured, his calloused hand making its way through your hair while he smiled slightly.

“Dun’ apologize,” he chuckled. He smelled of sweat and mud with a hint of walker blood, but you didn't seem to care at all. The aroma was oddly comforting, and just the presence of him was enough for you. Deciding to revel in the moment, you snuggled into his chest as a soft sigh escaped your lips.

“How was your trip?” You breathed in, taking in his scent. He kept a hand on your lower back, shuffling you both out of the entryway of your home and placing his bag down. He just exhaled deeply at your question, his fingers tightening a little.

“Jus’ ta same ol’ thing.” He mumbled with a bit of a shrug as he let you go, “killed a bunch of walkers, found some supplies. Same ol’ song and dance.” His hand landed on your shoulder and gave you a reassuring squeeze after noticing your concern. You however did not let it go.

“What’s wrong, hm?” You brought your arms up to his shoulders, looking up at him. He sighed, wrapping his own arms around your waist as his gaze darted around the house. His brows furrowed slightly, his expression changing.

“Nothin’, nothin’..” he muttered shaking his head, “jus’ got a lot in my head.” You frowned but didn't want to press further, instead nodding and moving away to let him get settled.

Daryl’s jaw clenched as he watched you move away from him, feeling slightly disappointed that the physical contact was broken. The moment quickly passed as his head perked up at the smell of freshly baked bread. You noticed his expression and chuckled, taking his hand.

“Want me to run you a bath? You can eat afterwards,” you smiled softly at him. He visibly tensed at the mention of a bath, his hand squeezing yours.

“Nah, ‘m good.” He sniffed, wiping his nose. You scrunched up your nose, chuckling.

“You sure? You’ve been out for three weeks, you're dirty.” You snorted, looking him up and down. You were right, his clothes were gross and probably stinky, his hair disheveled. “You're taking a bath, come.” You gently tugged him along with you.

“Alright… I’ll… I’ll take a bath,” he grumbled, his tone laced with annoyance. You rubbed his hand gently and entered the bathroom with him.

Daryl sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped, but he allowed himself to be dragged around by you. He stood by the counter while you went to fill up the bath with warm water, eventually returning back to him. You placed your hands on the buttons of his vest, looking up at him for permission to undress him.

His eyes shifted to the side slightly, uncomfortable under your scrutiny. His expression changed once your nimble fingers started unbuttoning his vest slowly, and after looking into your eyes for a few seconds more, he looked away and muttered, “go for it.”

You smiled at him softly, letting his vest fall to the floor before starting at his button-up. He stood by silently, watching you undress him without making any comments. The process felt slightly intimate and he felt a warm feeling in his stomach as he looked over you, and he didn't protest or try to stop you from doing your thing.

You let his shirt fall next to his vest, letting your fingers trace along the muscles of his arm, watching them tense under your graze. His breath hitched as your fingers danced down his sides, landing on his holster belt. You carefully unbuckled it and placed it on the counter.

He shifted his weight, continuing to stand silent as you did what you wanted. He couldn’t ignore the feelings of intimacy beginning to rise within him. Your hands slid back down to the belt holding up his pants, unbuckling it with practiced skill. Your fingers soon unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, letting it fall to the floor. Daryl shivered lightly at the sudden coolness on his skin, looking down at you for a moment, his expression shifting slightly at how eager you seemed to be at undressing him.

You looked up at him briefly before pulling down his boxers, looking away to give him some sort of privacy. He quickly turned towards the mirror, seemingly avoiding his image as he turned away just as quick. You turned back to him and smiled softly, taking his hand and kissing it gently. He felt his skin warming up and his cheeks flushed slightly, you’ve seen him naked before but this felt more intimate… somehow. The situation made him feel quite vulnerable, but despite his discomfort he remained silent and still.

You squeezed his hand reassuringly and led him towards the tub. Daryl followed you, feeling a tingle in his abdomen from the butterflies you arouse in him. He stepped into the bath, groaning softly once he sunk down into the waiting water. His eyes closed, letting out a sigh of relief as he relaxed in the warmth of the bath. You leaned over to turn off the tap, letting him sit in silence.

“Wait here? I’m just gonna put your clothes away and get you some new ones,” you murmured softly, watching his eyes peek open to look at you. He nodded contently, closing his eyes again. You nodded and left the bathroom quietly with his dirty clothes.

Daryl sat in the bath, leaning back against the rim. He was starting to feel more and more relaxed by the minute as he let the warm water wash away some of the filth on his skin. He sat patiently for a few minutes while waiting for your return.

You came back into the bathroom, some clean clothes and a rag in hand. The clean clothes were placed on the counter while the rag remained in your hand as you walked over to the tub, kneeling down next to it.

“Mind if I wash you?” You hummed. Daryl’s eyes flickered up to you for a moment, his face lightly flushed as he felt a little insecure about his body.

“Sure… go for it,” he grumbled hesitantly, his eyes looking away. You smiled reassuringly, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. You lifted the rag and began slowly by scrubbing his chest, followed by his arms. Daryl flinched slightly at the touch, his muscles rippled and tightened as you grazed over his flesh. He forced himself to stay still, but even that was a lot to bear sometimes. With each stroke of the rag, his breath hitched.

“Relax,” you coaxed quietly into his ear. “Lean forward, lemme get your back.”

Daryl frowned slightly but obeyed your instruction, leaning forward in the tub to expose his back to you. He bit his lip nervously, though you’ve seen them before, he was still self-conscious about the scars on his body.

He grimaced whenever you would brush over the scarred skin, making the scars feel more pronounced. He hated the reminder of his past, always trying to run from it. But he loved you, and he knew that letting you see him like this was a way of accepting what happened and moving forward with his life. He wasn't used to this physical intimacy, but he felt okay being vulnerable with you.

You made sure to be gentle, and your soft actions didn't go unnoticed by him. Daryl let himself relax and reminded himself you were safe, letting go of the tension in his body as you washed away the dirt left on him. You kissed his shoulder sweetly, letting your free hand come up to run through his tangled hair.

“Okay, lean back.” You whispered softly, a gentle hand pushing him back. He complied once again, sighing softly as he felt your fingers combing through his thick hair trying to loosen the knots.

The two of you stayed silent throughout the exchange, the only noise was the water occasionally splashing or dripping. Your touch was comforting despite his initial discomfort, he began to sink into the water while his muscles relaxed. You were the first to break the comfortable silence.

“I need to drain the water, I’ll put some more since I still need to wash your hair. Unless you wanna get out now?” You hummed quietly, making sure not to startle him by the sudden noise. He shifted slightly and used his arm to prop himself up so he could sit.

“’s up to ya,” he mumbled. “I wouldn’ mind stayin’ in ‘ere longer, but I dun’ want ya ta have ta wait on me.” He rubbed his bottom lip anxiously, nibbling on the inside of it.

“I don't mind,” you smiled while shaking your head. You reached into the tub to drain the dirty water before grabbing the shower head and beckoning him closer, “let me wash your hair first.”

He looked at you for a long moment, nodding cautiously as he scooted over to you, bowing his head. You turned on the shower head, rinsing his hair so it was damp before taking some shampoo and lathering it into his hair. You soothingly scratched your nails against his scalp. His eyes shut tight, letting himself relax as you scrubbed his hair clean. The soothing sensation felt nice, although he couldn't deny how it made him feel…

You pulled your hands out of his hair to rinse out the shampoo. Daryl sat stoically, trying to rid himself of certain thoughts, his breathing deepened however as you washed his hair. The warm water and your touch sent a wave of chills down his spine. You soon turned off the water and fixed his wet hair so it was out his face, filling the tub with warm water again.

His mind started wandering again, his eyes darting around as you fixed his hair. It felt weird to have someone do something like this for him, but he didn't mind it. He trusted you, he loved you, and you helped him feel comfortable and safe in his own skin. He let his thoughts melt away into mush as he enjoyed the warmth of the water and the soft touches your fingers were giving to his hair.

“Gimme a kiss?” You smiled softly, leaning forward. He froze for a moment, intimidated by the sudden request, his face flushing. He thought for a moment if he wanted to, of course he did, but he wasn't big on physicality.

He grumbled nervously, looking away from your expectant eyes. Your smile faltered slightly, and he noticed. You pulled back and got up.

“Never mind, just holler when you're done.” You walked over to the door, “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He awkwardly watched you walk away, clenching his fists. He felt guilty, he shouldn't but he still felt bad for rejecting you. The truth was, he really did want to kiss you.

“Wait!” He called out, watching you poke your head back in.

“Hm?”

Daryl was hesitant in the moment, not wanting to embarrass himself further. Still, he felt the need to explain himself. “’s not tha’ I dun’ wan’ ta kiss ya,” he said softly and let his shoulders sink into the water. “’s jus’ tha’…”

You cut him off, kneeling by the tub again while caressing the back of his head. “Don’t worry about it, you don't have to kiss me if you don't want to.” You smiled sweetly up at him.

He exhaled softly at your response, licking his lips. He knew you were trying to make him feel better, but he still heard the genuine reassurance.

“But I do,” he whispered. “Can we uh… can we maybe try somethin’?” You hummed in response and knelt up to his level.

His breathing deepened at the sight of you, years of being married to you and he still felt weak in the knees every time he saw you. He felt a nervous excitement in his stomach, much like the feeling he had asking you to marry him. Your eyes flickered closed as he started to lean in, his closing too. When his hands came up, his fingers found your neck and traced your jawline softly. Your body felt familiar and warm, inviting in every way. You leaned closer, and he was worried you could hear his heart beating a million miles a minute. His hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. Your breath against his lips made him tremble.

Your lips met softly, and you sighed into the kiss. It’s been three weeks since you two had kissed, and you needed this. You needed the reassurance he still loved you like you loved him.

And of course he did, he never stopped loving you since the day you met. His lips felt soft on yours, warm breaths filling you both with tenderness. But most of all, it felt so natural.

His eyes kept closed, not wanting to disrupt the moment. He wanted to get lost in the moment, to forget everything in the world and focus on the way you made him feel.

Eventually, you pulled back, smoothening your hand over his hair as you stood up. “I’ll be in the kitchen, want me to help you get out and change, or do you think you can manage?”

“I wan’ yer help,” he said shyly, slowly looking up at you. “If ya dun’ mind doin’ tha’.”

“Of course, you wanna get out now or soak for a little bit longer?” You smiled at him while combing through his hair. He chuckled and nodded, he wanted to finish this up quickly.

“I wanna get out, then we can get ta cuddlin’ or somethin’.” He smirked, chuckling when you slapped his shoulder lightly. You went to drain the water before moving towards the counter to grab his towel. He followed after you, groaning softly as he stood up and walked over to you. His body shivered slightly as he held his arms up, letting you towel him off. You kept him warm and comfortable, his eyes trailing over the way your lashes curled, his muscles relaxing again as you finished.

You smiled up at him and pecked his lips briefly before handing him his boxers, seeing his eyes flicker with desire at the slight touch on his lips. He took his underwear and slipped them on, feeling butterflies swarm in his belly. You handed him some sweatpants, followed by his shirt. He pulled on his clothes, sighing on relief as he was fully covered again.

“There we go,” you murmured. “We can get to cuddling in a bit, you hungry?” You grinned knowing very well he was quite hungry after his trip. Your suspicions were correct when his stomach growled on cue, his head nodding curtly.

“Tha’d be nice…” he glanced down at you. “Then we can cuddle after?” You nodded and led him out of the bathroom, into the kitchen where you had set up a plate of bread and tomato soup. His eyes widened when he saw his plate of food, the freshly baked bread making a delightful assault on his senses.

“Smells amazin’,” he chuckled and sat down at the table, “ya made this?” He asked, dipping his bread in the soup and savouring each bite.

“Mhm,” you smiled warmly as you took your own plate and sat in front of him. You both sat in warm silence, enjoying each other’s company as you both continued to eat. He felt your warmth and love just from the way you cooked this meal for him.

“Thank you fer this,” he mumbled, finishing up his food. You hummed in response, taking both your plates over to the sink.

“It’s not much,” you shrugged as you washed the dishes. As you washed your dishes, Daryl’s mind began to wander. You cooked dinner, gave him a bath, helped him change, been so attentive and caring, but you didn't seem to want anything in return. He wanted to repay you for your kindness, for making him feel comfortable and safe in your hands. He wasn't sure what to do, but he knew he wanted to make you feel appreciated.

“We can cuddle now,” you turned to him, wiping your hands. He nodded lightly, his eyes roaming over your figure as he walked over to you. He felt pleasant with a sense of fullness, his arms wrapping around your waist tightly as you both walked towards your bedroom. You let him sit on the bed first, kissing his forehead. “Hang on, just gotta change into my slip.” He nodded, sitting at the foot of the bed while waiting for you to come back.

You soon emerged from the closet, wearing a deep red slip dress. His eyes locked on you and they widened at the sight, swallowing as you got closer to him.

“Ya look beautiful,” he breathed as you stood in front of him, his head tilted back to look up at you, placing his hands on your hips. You sighed softly when he pulled you onto his lap, his fingers tracing up and down your thighs, your body fitting perfectly with his.

“I missed you,” you whispered, a slight pout on your face as you let your fingertips rest on his cheeks.

“I missed ya too,” he whispered back, the feeling of being empty and lonely without you slowly ebbing away. He leaned in, kissing you gently. The intimacy finding its way into him again, the comforting feeling of your body on his was warm and welcoming.

You kissed him back, your hands moving down to rest on his shoulders. His hands moved from your hips, up to your waist, rubbing circles into your sides with his thumbs. He wanted to make up for lost time.

The atmosphere suddenly felt hotter, your kisses getting more desperate and intense while his hands moved back down to your hips. He pulled you closer onto him, pulling your body flush against his. You groaned into his mouth as you started rocking your hips against his, hearing him groan as well. The arousal between the two of you started to rise, the intensity of your grinding made your slip ride up. Daryl groaned at the sight of your full, plush thighs, his erection pressing against you. You were so delicate, but so eager.

Each movement you made, sent waves of pleasure up his body. His hands gripped tight onto your thighs, grunting against your neck as you pulled him close. The more you ground against him, the more your slip rode up and revealed your panties.

His breath hitched as you continued to roll your hips, he leaned back on his elbows and looked up at you. The way your lips were parted, the sight of your flimsy underwear eliciting a moan from him. His dick grew harder as his entire body trembled with arousal, placing one hand on your hip.

“Fuck… yer so sexy,” he bit her lip, pushing your slip up with one large hand. He sat up to fully remove your slip, tossing it onto the floor and immediately ravishing your breasts. You yelped, a hand moving to the back of his head as his mouth sucked on the flesh on your chest.

A soft breathy moan left your lips as his mouth wrapped around one of your nipples, biting down gently. One of his hands moved to squeeze your ass, lifting you up slightly before directly placing you atop his erection. You whined at the feeling, squirming on him. He growled against your breast, squeezing the other as he lifted his head to look at you.

“Go on baby, do yer thing.” He whispered breathlessly, watching you grind down on him. Your panties shifted whenever you moved, letting him get a glimpse of your folds. He kept his eyes on your mound, reaching forward to rub circles over your clothed clit. You let out a mewl, biting your lip.

Evidence of your arousal quickly seeped through the thin fabric shielding yourself, smearing over his sweatpants the harder you grounded. Daryl let out a deep groan of approval, taking his thumb away from your clit and licking the wetness off of it. You almost felt yourself squirt right there but you held off, pushing him down onto his back.

He grunted at the gesture, grabbing your hips but grinning as you pushed his hands away. He just sighed and lay back, looking down as you got off of him to pull his pants and boxers off. He groaned at the feeling of his cock springing out, slapping against his stomach. He tried to sit up again but you wouldn't let him, instead pulling off your panties and sitting on his lower stomach. He smirked up at you, his gaze wandering up and down your body.

“Let me sit up, I wanna touch ya properly.” He chuckled, gaining a nod of approval. He quickly sat up, his hands on your ass as he shuffled you both onto the bed. He moved the pillows to the side and sat against the headboard, grinning cheekily at you. You giggled back at him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass. “Gonna take care of me?”

“You bet your ass I’m gonna,” you sneered, reaching behind you to run your fingers along his length. He hissed through his teeth, narrowing his eyes as he looked right at you. His grip tightened on your ass, a low growl in his throat as he waited for you to take this further.

You took the hint, lifting yourself up and grabbing onto his length firmly. Daryl’s breath hitched as he reached out to spread your folds with his thumb, licking his lips at how wet you were. His thumb drifted towards your clit again, drawing out a whine from you. He chuckled at your desperation, thinking he had the upper hand, but you quickly proved him otherwise.

Instead of sinking down on him like he thought you were going to, you ran his tip along your slit, circling your clit. You caught the way his eyes rolled back and his fingers twitched, a soft whimper escaping his lips. You smirked a little, letting his tip invade through your entrance, quickly pulling it out. He growled at your teasing, grabbing your hips and trying to push you down onto his cock.

“Nuh uh Dixon, patience.” You coaxed, caressing his hair. He grumbled, letting go of your hips and letting his hands fall by his side. You continued with the slight teasing, letting the head of his cock in and out, just the tip nothing more. He threw his head back, closing his eyes as his body trembled with the need to just flip you over and take you the way he needed. But he relented and let you do your thing.

You watched as his chest heaved with every heavy breath he took, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He closed his mouth at the gesture, sighing softly as the same butterflies swarmed in his belly again. The feeling of your love was too much for him, the tenderness of it all putting him at ease. At this moment you decided it would be a good time to slam down onto him, evoking a loud moan from both of you. His brows furrowed as he felt your walls flutter around his length, his hands squeezing your hips as to stabilize himself. He almost came right there, the both of you had been deprived of intimacy for three weeks. So you both knew this wouldn't last long.

“Jesus… fuckin’ christ woman,” he groaned. “Ya made me hit my head on the headboard.” You stifled a laugh, earning a glare from him. His hands played around the small of your back, leaning in to kiss you.

You met his lips with equal need, parting your lips to let his tongue slither in. The taste of bread and tomato soup lingering on his tongue. As you two made out, you tested the waters by inching him out slowly and inching him back in. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes still closed by his face twitched before landing in the crook of your neck. You smiled and wrapped your arms around his head, his arms wrapping around your back as you moved slowly. His breath was hot and heavy and you could hear the occasional whimper and whine from him whenever you’d swivel your hips. You let yourself go and let out your own moans, his hands dancing along your back as you rolled your hips.

Your clit rubbed on the tuff of hair above his cock, moaning wildly at the sensation. His lips kept busy as he sucked the skin on your neck, biting and leaving marks on the blank canvas. Your nails dug into his shoulders, feeling him tense at the feeling but not protesting.

“Ah… Dar,” you breathed. The nickname slipped off the tip of your tongue so naturally, you felt his cock twitch against your walls. His hands rested on your back, leaning back to then dive in between your breasts. He raised his hands to squish the two mounds of flesh together, kissing each nipple softly. You let out a breathless giggle, curling your fingers into his hair. He peered up at you through his eyebrows, licking up the curve of your breast and swirling around the nipple, his thumb doing the same to the other.

You sighed, throwing your head back and closing your eyes and you started to lift yourself up and down on his length. Feeling the way you contracted around his cock, hearing the hiss from his mouth. He let your breasts go, his hands drifting down to your ass once again. He gently guided you up and down his cock, biting his lip to muffled his moans.

Daryl’s hand came to rub your clit again, this time harder than before. Your hips jerked forward, whining at the sensitive feeling. “C’mon, ‘m gonna cum… wan’ ya ta cum wit’ me.” He groaned into your hair.

You nodded, your eyes still closed as you rode him faster. The way you tightened around him allowed you to feel every inch and every vein on his cock, the head brushing against your sweet spot with every rock of your hips. Your mouth fell open to let out whatever noises you could make in the moment, one of your hands on the back of his neck while the other remained tangled in his hair.

You rode him hard, the bed rocking with every movement and the headboard hit the wall a few times. Yet the sound of your moans reverberated through the room, your noises going straight to Daryl’s cock as he bucked his hips up into you. The way he did it allowed him to hit your sweet spot perfectly, and also threw you off the edge.

Stars were all you could see as your movements halted, your mouth open in a silent cry of pleasure as you came. But he didn't yet.

“Fuck… ya came without me?” He growled, biting your shoulder before pushing you down onto your back and ramming himself in and out of your sensitive cunt. This time the cry that sounded from your mouth was louder than ever, your head thrown back while your hands dropped to your sides and gripped onto the sheets. Your walls clamped down on his length, the sensitivity too much for you as you felt a second orgasm rapidly building up. But the heat was too much.

Daryl’s hands squeezed your waist, letting out a shout as he came inside you, still thrusting himself in and out of you to bring out your second orgasm. Your eyes rolled back and your moan came out as a deep groan, this time fluids rushed out of your wet heat and spilling onto his thighs and the sheets, soiling them completely. He gasped, panting heavily as the sight. He couldn't resist and you felt a finger or two slip into you, the wet sounds totally erotic. He fingered you through the intense orgasm, groaning at how wet and slick you were.

You let yourself sink into the bed, closing your eyes, and his fingers eventually slipped out of you. His eyes stayed on your figure, the hickeys on your neck and chest, your pussy and thighs glistening with your wet arousal. You felt him kiss your lips softly, kissing your cheekbone before slowly leaving you on the bed.

You sighed and just lay there, naked and sprawled over the bed like some porno. But when you heard the sound of water rushing from the bathroom, you smiled and felt even warmer than you already did.

“Time fer yer bath,” Daryl’s voice made you open your eyes, craning your head to see him walk over to you. He smiled down at you before picking you up bridal style and carrying you towards the bathroom. You glanced up at him sleepily, pushing yourself up to kiss his jaw, his stubble prickly against your lips. He squeezed you tightly in response, kicking the bathroom door open and placing you in the warm bath. “I’ll be righ’ there ta join ya, jus’ gotta change the sheets.”

You nodded in response, leaning against the rim of the tub and closing your eyes. His hand came up to rub your head gently before scurrying out of the bathroom. You breathed softly, your stomach in pleasant knots at how much you adored your husband. Letting yourself soak in the warm water as your body felt lighter.

You almost flinched when you felt a body slip in next to you, Daryl was way too quiet sometimes. He gently maneuvered you so you sat on his lap, your back on his chest. He wrapped his arms around your midsection, turning his head to kiss your neck softly. You smiled contently, snuggling into him as you both melted into the warm water.

“I love you,” you murmured hoarsely.

“I love ya too,” he responded just as gruff, squeezing you gently as he placed another kiss on your neck. You both sat in silent, just soaking in each other's love and warmth, his fingers rubbing your back to rid of the soreness he may have put on you.

“I’m hungry,” you mumbled and felt his chest rumble against your back as he laughed.

“I’ll heat ya up some of tha’ bread and tomato soup. How’s tha’ sound?” His whisper made you shiver delightedly.

“Sounds perfect.” You whispered back, and leaned against his shoulder.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl x reader #norman reedus #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #mrdixonposts #daryl dixon smut #twd fluff #twd smut #daryl dixon fluff

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tackytigerfic · 3 months

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WIP Snip

Nearly finished this fic, final extended scene is a go atm. In this snippet, Harry has just arrived unexpectedly at the Manor where Draco is undercover pretending to be a Death Eater. CW for wandpoint confessions and mild angst.

Draco’s eyes narrowed but he put his hand inside his robe and then, quicker than Harry could have hoped to notice, Draco had his wand out and was holding it to Harry's throat, pressing hard so the wood bit into the tender skin under his jawline. "You are Harry, I suppose? You seem right, of course, but there’s always a chance that someone enterprising might come along with a stash of Polyjuice and a gift for impersonation.” “Oh, fuck off,” Harry managed, and the point of Draco’s wand wormed slowly deeper into flesh. “You knew it was me the second you saw me.” “Mmm, I suppose that’s true,” Draco murmured agreeably, something suggestive about how the sound travelled through the small space between them. His free hand strayed to Harry’s forehead and he brushed his fingers lightly over the dried blood that Harry could feel tightening on the skin there. “But indulge me. Tell me something only you would know.” Harry scoffed, though he was thinking with his throat tight of Arthur knocking at the door of the Burrow in the middle of the night long ago, and Molly blushing, and how they had exposed the long intimacy of their marriage for safety's sake. “There’s a lot I could tell you,” he said tightly. “If you’re really sure you want to hear it.” “By all means,” Draco said, eyes on Harry, searching for something in his face. “You fucked me in that bed and afterwards you asked me not to leave because you wanted to wake up with me? Remember?” Draco wanted to look towards the bed, Harry could tell by the way his eyes flickered, but he resisted, and so Harry went on. “You told me you wanted us to win this war just so you could take me back to London and feed me my favourite ice-cream off your spoon. You told me the only thing you miss about France is how you and your mum really got to know each other properly, and that when she gets back you want to take her for dinner to that little French bistro we went to that time in Edinburgh. I know you remember that, you said the wine was better than anything in the cellar here.” Draco nodded shortly, and almost regretfully pulled his wand away from Harry’s neck. He didn’t move away. “Yes, fair enough, I believe you.” But Harry couldn’t stop, didn’t know how to shut up now he had started. “The last time we were together, you told me that I’m generous with my love. Do you remember that? And I wondered then… because I’d never said it, had I? Not out loud, anyway. Neither of us had. But I thought, maybe— Maybe it meant that you knew.” Draco was staring, his eyes wide and shocked, a blush crawling up his neck, blotchy with heat. Neither of them moved, the silence between them growing until Harry could practically feel it. Draco almost raised his hand to Harry then; Harry sensed the arrested movement, the enforced stillness. He didn’t know what he’d do if Draco touched him. But he didn’t have to find out, because that’s when the knock at the door sounded.

Does anyone have a snippet they'd like to share? Consider yourself tagged and pls tag me so i can see as i've been off tumblr and i miss every single thing on here. And I'll no-pressure-tag @boxboxlewis @citrusses @fluxweeed @maesterchill @moonflower-rose @skeptiquex @sweet-s0rr0w @the-starryknight plus the FrotCotLot.

#tacky's fth #drarry #drarry wip snip #rowing and writing

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anxious-lee · 3 months

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The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known || Hazbin Tickle Fic ||

A/N: this entire fic was inspired by that one scene where Al threatens Husk in ep 5. it broke my heart to see him so utterly petrified so I wrote this as a hurt/comfort for myself

Warnings: mentions of Alastor's control over Husk, slight NSFW language but it's not actually sexual I just didn't have any synonyms for what I meant lol

Word count: 2,466

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When you're an Overlord of Hell, you tend to get pretty comfortable with staying in control.

Because one wrong move can mean the end of the line.

Husk knew that better than most.

And even now, after all that power of his was lost, he still found himself more suited to calling the shots in whatever situation he found himself in. It was just easier that way. If he could remain on top of things, then nothing would go wrong. Mostly.

That feeling of security never lasted long, though, because sooner or later, he was reminded of the terrible choice he made long ago. That he gave away his autonomy to the most psychotic demon in hell.

The way he spoke to him. Like he was so small. And insignificant. Like he existed purely for the bastard's own amusement and nothing else. Any input given was condescended to, patronized, and dehumanized. It formed an ugly little pit in Husk's chest. How little control he had once Alastor stepped into the room. It scared him, in a way that so few things did.

At least he had someone else to talk to who knew how he felt.

Speaking of whom, Angel Dust strutted into the bedroom, sporting a fluffy silk robe.

"Hope I didn't make you wait too long~" he whined seductively.

"Not long at all," the other purred.

The two settled down together in bed, soaking in each other's embrace.

Tonight was all about them, huddled together in hell's moonlight.

Husk remained still as Angel shifted downward until his head fit under Husk's chin, knowing just where to go.

He loved to be pampered, that much was obvious.

It was peaceful for some time before Angel's eyes suddenly blinked open.

"Hey. How come you never want a turn at being the little spoon? I'm not unreasonable, I'm sure we could share," he said coyly.

Husk didn't quite know what to say to that. It wasn't something that needed to be spoken in words. Husk dominated, Angel submitted (in more ways than one). It seemed almost absurd to suggest that Husk would be the one being given affection.

"Nah, I'm good. You look pretty comfy down there, anyway."

Angel, however, wasn't satisfied with that answer. He pulled himself back to get a good look at the cat's face, cocking his own head curiously. Who wouldn't want to be on the receiving end? Even once? It couldn't be understated how warm and protected one could feel in the arms of another. And Husk didn't want that? Did he feel pressured to say that because he knew Angel liked to take that spot?

"Really? You THAT much of a top that you can't play second fiddle once?" said Angel.

"I'm just not a big... "softy-cuddles" kinda guy, as if you already couldn't tell," Husk admitted, gesturing to his overall gruff demeanor.

Angel studied his face.

"Not buying that for a second," he said, punctuating each word with a poke to the chest. "Come on, you're missing out!"

"That's sweet, babe, but I'm-"

"Just five minutes?" Angel pleaded, holding five fingers up in front of him, "Five minutes of me cuddling you for a change. If you decide you hate it, I won't bring it up again. I just... you're always taking care o' me. I want to give some of that back to you, ya'know? You deserve it."

Fuck.

How was he supposed to say no to those puppy eyes?

Besides, it couldn't hurt... right?

"Fine," Husk relented.

"Yay!" His boyfriend cheered.

They rearranged their positions; Husk now farther down the length of the bed and Angel wrapping all three pairs of arms around him like a furry burrito. His knees and head also tucked themselves inward to cradle the cat properly.

It still made Husk a little tense, letting someone handle him so willfully, but the touch was too nice to deny for very long. Thoughts of safety oozed into his brain as his body relaxed against the chest behind him.

"See? Now isn't this nice?" said Angel softly, barely above a whisper, "For a man who supposedly doesn't little-spoon, you've got the moves down pat."

"I'm not making any moves," Husk mumbled, smiling loudly in his voice.

"Well, you're relaxed, aren't ya?"

In a way.

Angel peered down at the bundle of fuzz, taking in how much shorter he was in comparison.

"Awww! I never noticed how cute you were from up here." His hand began petting the top of the kitty's head, smoothing down the hair.

And there was that feeling again. The one that couldn't let Husk enjoy a good thing while he had it. The fear of releasing control.

"I'm not a pet," he grumbled, having no control over the defensiveness in his voice.

Angel, ever oblivious, pressed on. "Oh, but you are to me~. My sweet little Husky~."

Finally, the camel's back broke under that straw.

"Just stop, okay?! I don't-" Husk took a much-needed breath, sitting up, "I know being treated like a toy is your thing, but it's not mine. I don't like being talked to like I'm a pet. Like all I am is your little dancing monkey." It dawned on him just how much of all that was directed at Alastor. The words sunk in like cement in a lake, and he turned his eyes away, unable to look at what he just ruined.

Angel blinked. All of sudden, the moment had soured, and he had no clue why. Was it something he said? Husk said he didn't want to be treated like a toy. Is that how he felt? Like he wasn't valued? That wasn't what he was trying to say at all! It was adoration! Not condescension.

"What...?" Angel breathed.

"Forget it. Just, I'm sorry-"

"No! No, don't apologize," Angel interrupted, choosing his next words carefully, "I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. It wasn't what I meant to say. I wasn't tryin' to say you were weak or small. I was... I was trying to tells you that I adore ya. You do so much for me and our friends. You look out for us, and protect us, and listen to our bullshit problems all the time.

"I think so highly of you, Husk. You don't take shit from no one, not even me. You're unafraid to speak your mind. You know how to keep your head when life gets messy. I got nothing but respect for you. That's why I wanted to do all this. That's why I want to pamper you with love and shit. Because you're always so strong, and I wanted to... I don't know... give you the space where you didn't have to be strong. Not with me."

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Husk couldn't find the words even if he tried. He had never heard such meaningful things spoken about him. Him, the grouchy barfly. How could he possibly come back from such a beautiful declaration? Especially now with how foolish he felt. It had never occurred to him that accepting affection was an act of good, and not an admission of weakness. That someone could be trusted to hold him in their hands and lift him up rather than drag him down.

Angel could never be Alastor. This was not a hostage situation.

This was a security.

One that he felt that he needed in this moment more than ever.

"Fuck... I'm sorry. I messed up everything and spoiled the mood. I'm still not very good at this whole intimacy stuff," Husk sighed.

"I know, and it's okay. I can teach you," Angel cupped his hand around Husk's cheek.

Husk leaned into the touch. "And uh... thanks. For what you said."

"I meant it."

What did Husk do on Earth to deserve such an Angel?

"Look, if uh. Ahem. If you still wanted to... to do what you were doing before... you know, I won't fight you," Husk stammered, falling quieter with each word.

If that's the only means of permission that Angel can get right now, then he'll take it. He gently eased Husk onto his back once more.

"Good. 'Cause I still have lots more love to give you, sweetcheeks." Angel's iconic smile returned.

Even though Husk basically just admitted he wanted Angel to keep going, his praises were beginning to fluster him. The corners of his lips started to rise, and the only defense he had against them was to turn his face away from the man in front of him.

"You like it when I talk to you like that, huh, baby? Do you hear in my voice how much I'm crazy about you? How I'd do anything for ya? Cause I would~. There's nothing that you don't deserve," Angel said, scratching oh so lightly beneath Husk's chin.

Husk squeezed his eyes shut as he surrendered to his smile and tried to crush Angel's hand with his neck.

"It's true~. Because you're just the cutest little thing alive! Er, unalive, so to speak," the spider said, feeling encouraged by this reaction, and bringing another hand to scritch in the middle of his side.

Before he could stop it, a giggle escaped from Husk's mouth. Mortified, he then clamped his jaw shut, holding any more upcoming laughs in.

"You don't have to pretend for me, baby. It's just us here," said Angel, now bringing all three sets of arms into the mix. One pair was tracing his sides, another scritching either sides of his neck, and the last drumming their fingers torturously over his belly.

The giggles rose back up again, and this time shutting his mouth wasn't keeping them at bay. If he weren't so stubborn, he might've given in by now. But it was just too embarrassing.

Husk clapped his paws over his mouth, and while it did (partially) succeed in quieting his laughter, it didn't do anything to remedy the tickly sensations now all over his torso. He twitched and quivered under the touch, but with Angel hovering over him, it didn't leave much room for reprieve.

"This looks like it really tickles. I'm sure you'd feel better if you let all those laugh out!" Angel encouraged, "Pleeeeeease? For me? For yourself?"

Still, he didn't budge.

"Okay. I didn't wanna have to do this, but you've left me with no otha' options." Angel took one hand that was scratching his chin and took both of Husk's paws in it, holding them above the cat's head.

The effect was gradual.

At first, you couldn't hear a peep. Then, over a matter of seconds, Husk's giggles began to bubble up once more, fighting their way to the surface, and tickling him from the inside out.

It was over. Before long, there was nothing between the loving attacker and the melodic sound he adored so much. It started out deeper and huskier, much like his normal speaking voice, but with each passing moment, it grew higher in pitch; the kind of laugh he reserved only for his softer moments with Angel.

The spider took this as a sign to continue and deepened the pressure of all of his appendages, digging into the jittery muscles.

Husk couldn't even recognize himself anymore. He sounded nothing like the bitter old drunk he normally was. In its place, was a goofy little lovesick fool who laughed like no one in the world could hear him. He guffawed and chortled and cackled with reckless abandon.

"There it itihis! There's that gorgeous laughter!" Said Angel. "For a moment there, I thought you was bout to explode!"

The compliment somehow made everything worse. The helplessness of the situation was still there, the feeling of being small, but it was... different. Like he was small enough to be held in someone's palm and protected from all harm. It felt safe.

Husk's cheeks began to burn red.

Hopefully, Angel would be too distracted to notice.

"Aw baaabe! Are you blushin'?!"

Fuck.

As if on cue, his cheeks burned brighter.

"Am I making you feel flustered~? Does it make it tickle more?"

"WOHOHOULD YOU SHUHUT UHUHUP?!"

"So it does. Hmm," Angel hummed as he started moving his hands faster and faster up and down his body. Up his sides, then down his sides, up his tummy, then down his tummy.

It was maddening.

It was tortuous.

It was wonderful.

If Heaven didn't feel like this, he didn't want it. If salvation didn't give him the same amount of relief and safety and joy that playing with his lover gave, then it wasn't worth it. He'd stay in this inferno of hell forever if it meant he could stay with Angel. Stay in this moment.

The demon in question kept on with his teases.

"Who's the cutest little thing~?" Angel cooed as he noticed Husk jump when he touched the lowest portion of his belly, "Ohoho, looks like someone's ticklish! Coochie coochie coooo~!"

Just when Husk thought he couldn't laugh any harder, he did.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU FUHUHUCKING PRIHIHICK HAHAHA!" Husk snorted.

"Oho my gosh! You sound just like Fat Nuggets!" Angel chortled.

Husk's laughter was beginning to go silent, and started getting wheezier. This, Angel knew, meant it was time to stop.

"Alright, doll, I think you've had enough," Angel said as he released his prisoner.

As the spider removed his hands from his body, Husk started panting and giggling hysterically, still feeling the phantom sensations on his skin.

"Need some help there?" Angel offered, moving his hands back towards the other's belly.

Husk curled away from his hands, "Dohohon't!"

"I'm not gonna tickle ya, I swear! I'm just gonna get the leftover tickles to go away. Okay?"

Husk nodded hesitantly and revealed his stomach to him.

Angel's hands met his fur, and although it did jump at first, the firm pressure and massaging motions rubbed away the remaining tickles, just like he said it would.

"Dahamn. That really works." Husk breathed.

"Right? Now do you feel better?"

"Yeah," Husk sat up as Angel gave him room, "You know, for such a compliant gentleman, you sure do know how to take charge."

Angel swiveled to Husk with his mouth agape. "I can be a boss when I wanna be!"

"Heh. Sure, power bottom."

Angel reached for Husk's right foot (or paw) and skittered one set of fingers over it.

"NonononONONOHOHO! I'M SORRY, I TAKE IT BACK! I tahahake it bahahack! Hehehehe!"

"Uh huh. That's what I thought," Angel stopped and huffed with a wink, nothing but kind love behind his eyes, "So. You ready for bed?"

"After all that laughing? Hell yes I am. I might even sleep through tomorrow." Husk said tiredly.

Angel chuckled, sidling up behind Husk and gently cacooning his arms around him again.

"This okay?"

Husk sighed.

"It's perfect."

-------

Wooh! That was a rollercoaster! 😅 Hope the people that wanted lee!husk enjoyed this fic 🫶

#tickle #tickles #tickling #ticklish #tickle community #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickles #lee!husk #ler!angeldust #huskerdust tickles

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secretagentsociety · 1 year

Text

Huge yandere x extremely concerningly chill reader

You know i really like the idea of a huge buff like beefy yandere with like sketchy unspecified job that's built like he could fight a bear with no weapon and that no matter how tall you are you'd still be significantly shorter than him bcuz magik.

with a reader who's just vibing yk?like their not rlly rejecting the yandere they just like,oh I'm kidnapped cool,cool,cool

Oh we're getting married?a Little fast but alr alr

Yk just a reader who's very chill abt alot of things too many things that they shouldn't even be chill with

example scene down below, • reminder english isn't my first language any present or past tense mistake is prone to be made and i did not proofread

So imagine in this scenario

A yandere who is used to people glancing at him because of his huge stature and his unbelievably scary ribf look,when he one day met you!his darling

now he was ENCHANTED i tell you ENCHANTED! when he saw you just looking up at him with no particular emotion in your eyes and how small you are compared to him god he LOVED it

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Would find it surprising how easy it was to kidnap you,all he had to do is just hoist you up and you didn't even resist,all the more reason to keep you safe with him :D

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he once entered your shared home to find you missing and the back door opened,his heart went miles!his head go onto overdrive and quite honestly he almost commit some not so good actions

But then when he walked outside he saw you just sitting there besides a cat sun bathing with your eyes closed,i tell you he let's a huge sigh of relief before carrying you back inside and cuddling you

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he is either the big spoon or the pillow if you did try to be the big spoon it likely wouldn't work and you'd have to sleep ontop of him

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he would give his darling quite a bit of freedom, honestly from outside looking in it looked like a normal relationship,well it is a normal relationship minus the kidnaping,but he believed he had no reason to restrain you because when given the chance to ran away you'd rather sun bathe with a cat instead

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he gets mad jealous,will put an arm behind you while walking around,now if someone do try to approach you and try anything he'd give em a murderous looks,if the person still didn't fk off then whoopz look at that someone just died tragically!

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overall i love this type of yandere and this type of reader the most because i just do!there is no logik or reason! But anyway this is more of a self indulgent fic more than anything else pt2

#Yanderexyou #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x willing reader #Yandere oc xyou #yandere oc x reader

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luvrxbunny · 6 months

Text

sundress

Pairing: Steve Harrington x F!Reader

Prompt: Sundress

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv, unprotected sex, some praise (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.9k

A/N: couldn’t figure out how to end this *crying in the distance*

Steve opens the front door with a sigh, his hand running through his hair as he walks in. His day was more stressful than it needed to be. There was an early summer rush and Robin had left him high and dry to hang out with Nancy so he didn’t even have time to find someone to cover her shift. The only thing that got him through the day was the thought that you were at his home.

His parents are away for a month and after one week of you going back and forth between your house and his, he offered you to move in with him. You’ve been with him since, the little light at the end of his tunnel. He likes having you around, having you here when he gets home, it makes him feel like an old-timey married couple. You’re usually working at his desk, in his shirt and sometimes his jacket. Today’s sight is awakening something inside him though.

You’re in a sundress, and an apron, cooking at the stove. He can smell something sweet in the air, like you’ve been baking and humming a song in the kitchen. It’s a scene out of a movie from the '60s; you’re dancing around the kitchen with that pretty, soft smile on your face. You light up when you see him. “Steve!” You put down the bowl you were mixing and wipe your hands on your apron before rushing over to him. “I wanted to have a picnic or something? We can stay inside if you want- I’m not sure what the weather’s like but-”

He wraps his arms around you and drops some of his weight on you, earning a giggle at his name. He stays silent, breathing you in and imagining how peaceful life would be with you. He’d come home to this, almost every day, you in your frilly little apron, baking for him and greeting him with that beaming smile of yours. If he’s lucky you’ll let him get you pregnant, and you’d have a little one on your hip while stirring whatever you’re cooking for dinner. Maybe some he’d come home early to you dusting around the house, sweeping, or mopping. His housewife. Steve wants you to be his housewife. “Steve?”

You question softly, he’s silently inhaling your scent, his hands slowly tightening around you. He groans low against the top of your head and sighs again. “Missed you.” You squeeze him tighter and snuggle your head into his chest. “I missed you too, baby.” You slowly lift your head and he moves his to let you. You stare into his eyes for a bit before leaning up to kiss him, all the tension leaving both of your bodies. He slides his hands to your shoulder and pulls you closer, towering over you as you try and pull away with a giggle.

“My stuff’s gonna burn, Stevie!” You slip out of his arms and head back into the kitchen, muttering about how your muffins are going to be crunchier than you wanted. He feels like he’s in a dream as he watches you turn off the oven, inspecting your muffins before pulling them out. He takes his shoes off as you finally finish your meals and desserts. You’re setting everything up on a blanket you put down in the middle of his living room. He’s moving sluggishly as he takes off his vest.

You notice his heaviness, how down he seems and it wipes the smile off your face. “Do you want to? We don’t have to- I know you’re probably- you might be tired. We can-” He smiles to himself at your rambling before walking over to you and placing a grounding kiss on your forehead. He shakes his head and puts on a smile for you. “I’m alright, baby.”

He’s silent for most of the night, listening to the drama of your life and your new obsessions, he’s attentive while listening but doesn’t speak up often. You’re now washing the dishes as he packs up the rest of the picnic. He’s bringing you abandoned dishware, dropping the occasional spoon or cup into the sink with an apologetic face you meet with a smile. You’re almost finished when you hear his footsteps come up behind you, you’re waiting for him to put another dish in the sink but instead, he just stops behind you. You feel like you can see the broad shadow he’s casting over the sink area as he stands. You try to stay calm, ignoring the way you buzz under his gaze until you finish the dishes.

You take your gloves off and turn to him with a smile. He already has a desperate look in his eye, one you had expected to see when he walked in earlier, it was the whole reason you whipped out your apron. You’d seen the way he’s been looking at you since you’ve been living with him so you wanted to test something out. But poor Steve came home too tired to give you any reaction. Now that he’s fed and energized though, the sundress that’s been hiding beneath your apron looks really good. He’s staring right down your cleavage, not even trying to hide his gaze and you don’t hide the obvious step forward you take to press his bulge against your lower stomach. His eyes flutter shut and he gives you a shaky exhale, his cool breath fanning over your face.

“But my muffins…” You trail off, a soft pout resting on your face. He chuckles at you, a smile splitting his soft lips as he brings his hands to your cheeks and leans down. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He kisses you with everything he has and his hands immediately leave your face to reach your thighs, tapping them twice for you to jump. He lifts you, holding you with your legs wrapped around his waist tightly. He walks over to the island in his kitchen and sits you there with a groan as you bite into his lip softly. “I need you.”

He says it differently than he normally does, less frantic and urgent, more pleading, more needy. You caress his face gently and your heart warms at the way his eyes flutter shut. “I know, Stevie.” He whimpers and leans into you, pressing you against the cold granite of the counter and draping you in his warmth. His hand is bunching in your dress, pulling them up to your hips, and moans, happily surprised to find you wearing nothing underneath. His eyes shoot open and lock with yours, painfully aroused by the shy smirk on your face.

You giggle at him and push your hips up, prompting him to keep moving, he shakes his head at you, feigning disappointment as he turns his attention back to your leaking pussy. His rough jean material digs into your sensitive thighs and lips as he presses himself against you. Your hands fly to his belt desperately, pulling at any leather you can get your hands on and hoping you pull the right thing at some point. Steve lets you struggle, he watches your hands fumble on his belt, frantic for his cock. He tries not to let his smirk get on his face but your frustrated whine at his uncooperative belt forces the smile onto his face. He brings his hands down to gently pull yours away from his belt.

You pout below him, upset that his belt wasn't working with you. He takes it off himself and wiggles his jeans down with his briefs, leaving just enough room for his cock and throbbing balls. He wraps his hand around his cock with a sigh, bringing your attention away from your little tantrum and back to him. He watches you look him over and your gaze locks on his red, throbbing cock. He waits for you to look back up at him but you don’t your eyes stay on his dick as he slowly pumps it. He’s trying to stay calm but your gaze is turning him on so much he’s started to leak onto you, a small string of precum dripping down from his tip and rolling down your mound, getting lost between your lips.

You shiver and finally look up at him with begging eyes. He holds your contact, bringing one hand up to your face to keep it turned toward him as his other hand guides his dick into you. His breathing stutters at your overwhelming warmth, at the way he’s instantly coated in your slick. He takes a deep breath and leans down to you, pressing his chest against yours before pushing the rest of his cock into you. You scream out his name and your hands bury in his hair, his favorite feeling. “Just like that, Stevie. Right there, my love.”

His eyes roll back at your praise and his hands come to your hips, pulling you onto him while he thrusts into you with all the energy he has left. His head is resting on your chest, his ear on your heart, and listening to the way it’s pounding. His eyes are clenched shut, trying to focus on your pleasure instead of the way you’re sucking him in. He’s already pulsing inside you and you’re fluttering around him. Your hips keep twitching in his grip, trying to fuck yourself on his dick faster than he wanted to fuck you. Even though his hands are stopping your hips from moving, your pussy still chokes him every time you try, uncontrollably tightening on him and forcing groan after groan from his lips.

He grinds his hips into you slowly, nudging his tip into your cervix and his patch of curls into your clit; the perfect combination, Steve knows it too. He already has a smirk on his face when your moans kick up, pitching into something ethereal. His hips snap into you more desperately as he feels his balls tense. He lifts his head off of your chest and your hands are pulling his face to yours instantly. You moan into his lips, your lips wet and bitten against his, he can’t help the whines that fall into you. His hands leave your hips to hold your face to his as his hips take on a mind of their own, fucking into you with a pace that’ll have both of you exploding in a matter of minutes.

Your face is stuck in a shocked, silent moan as you stare at him, little whimpers resembling his name are the only noises he’s able to get out of you until your eyes roll back and you go limp against him. Ragged moans shoot out of you as you suffocate him, your hands almost ripping his hair from his head as he thrusts into you, chasing his orgasm as he watches your eyes cross. His cock throbs again, a warning before it explodes inside you.

You can feel his warmth burst and spread throughout you and he grunts your name against your lips. His eyes shut tight, every muscle pulled tense as he shakes against you. The only sounds coming from him are gruff curses and your name. His hands are shaking as he cradles your face, keeping it close to his as his hips jerk into you, thrusting with the aftershocks of his orgasm before collapsing against you. You stroke his hair with a soft sigh as you try to even your breathing. He’s just resting against you, so loose you feel like he could slide onto the floor.

All the stress from his day is gone. He thinks he could do this, deal with the stress of his job, whatever stress his outside life throws at him. He'll be okay as long as he's coming home to you.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader smut #stranger things smut #kinktober #luvrxkinktober #kinktober smut

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feedingicetothedog · 1 month

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rewind the tape ep 2 question: Why do you think it's important for Louis to maintain the thread of his humanity, specifically by doing so through having a human meal he can't taste?

i had to answer this question bc i'm obsessed w it and what it reveals about louis narratively. i think it's important for louis to keep up the motions of humanity in a way that mimics connection. louis is desperate for authenticity but only if the gesture carries symbolism but the moment one imbues ritual into an action, the action is now a performance even if the audience is just the performer. i've talked about the usage of the golden spoon in this scene before but it adds an extra layer of performatism (in the post-postmodern sense) to the whole scene.

but on top of that performative aspect, i think it's interesting that the gesture of humanity louis chooses to preserve is eating food. this whole ep prominently features louis' struggles w hunting and how his vampiric hunger almost drove him to kill his nephew and further alienated him from his family, his human connections. the interview is also placed entirely in a dining room. daniel eats human food but these meals are more aesthetic than satiating w the presentation of an experimental fine dining establishment while louis drinks blood from a mysterious farm, eats a live fox, and then drinks from a human man all on the other side of the table. the way eating is presented in this ep feels almost hostile. daniel comments that louis "missed" several endangered species in what he chose to serve daniel, ultimately leading daniel to participate in predatory, unethical consumption alongside louis. and i think that's the point. serving daniel these meals attempts to force a reluctant empathy (one that daniel rejects and instead voices his disgust). and then he asks daniel this:

louis does. it's all he contemplates. what he eats and how he eats it symbolizes his separation from humanity. so in this mode of thinking, louis decides to make his tenuous tether to humanity by eating human food once a week. and the dish he chooses in this scene is taken from an emotionally significant moment from daniel's memoir, another act of proposed empathy between him and daniel. and while this moment is softer than the scene w the fox or damek, it still ends in this shot:

louis and daniel are sharing this meal and this moment but they're so far from each other. to me this demonstrates the futility of the gesture. they're physically performing the same action but their experience is so fundamentally different. louis is performing human actions but he is at this point so far removed from the concept

#i think the essence of the question got away from me a bit but i'm so obsessed w the dessert scene and what it means #and i just really wanted to talk about it #rewind the tape #vampterview

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ventiswampwater · 7 months

Text

subterranean

FANDOM : house of wax (2005) PAIRING : bo sinclair x afab!fem!reader RATING : explicit 🔞 WORDCOUNT : 3.9k

Reader POV. Basement fuckery. He tells you it's to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. You end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

Crossposted on A03 here.

⚠️ Stockholm Syndrome. VERY dubious consent under duress. This was supposed to just be porn without plot. But then I lost my goddamn mind. Oops. Decent amount of weird prose. Depersonalization and derealization. Pet play (but make it weird and kinda metaphorical). Collaring. Forced boot riding. Vibrator and anal plug use. Bondage/gagging/edging. Bo at his absolute WORST (his natural state), being smug and mean and awful. Dirty talk dialed ALL the way up. Extremely dehumanizing and degrading language. Mind break elements. LOTS of backhanded praise. ⚠️

You always got too comfortable.

A lifetime before—when you were first here—you sat on this mattress with him, swallowing down mouthfuls of cold beef and carrots. You can remember the soup swirling in the can, murky and brown like a puddle of stagnant rainwater. He hadn't bothered to warm it up for you, but it hadn’t mattered. The food was something. Sometimes it felt like everything.

You licked the broth off the spoon as he plugged another tape into the VCR.

“One of my favorites.” He told you. Of course it was. Every movie he showed you down here was one of his favorites. Every can of soup might be the last. It was always the same things, over and over.

That’s when you started to lose track of time, you think—when you’d started to cling onto all that nothing.

Time wasn’t all that bad of a thing to lose, was it? Who needed it when his thumb was rubbing against your knee, stroking up your skin? The soup was cold, and his hand was warm. You traded one for the other and you liked it.

Funny. Thoughts like that always felt like they came with an or else tacked at the end.

A chunk of potato sat unpleasantly on your tongue—almost bitter, gravel in your mouth. Just like everything else, you swallowed it down.

He pressed play, his fingers drifting up your thigh. The TV quality was fuzzy, interrupted by the occasional flicker of static. Sometimes the films he chose would start in the middle of scenes. You’d get brief glimpses of things he’d recorded over—the triumphant blare of a talk show theme cutting off mid-note, dropping you in media res. He always assured you that you weren’t missing anything. At least that was one thing he didn’t bother lying about.

The movie wasn’t why you remembered that day, though. It was because of something he’d asked you.

“Where’d ya’ grow up?”

You hadn’t known what to say. He never asked you things like that. Your confusion only deepened when you turned towards him. There was no tension in his jaw, no furrowing of his brow. He looked, for the first time, wholly and startlingly calm.

When you failed to answer, he leaned forward and switched the TV off. He never did that either.

“Tell me ‘bout it. Whatchu do out there, anyway?”

You always regret not lying to him.

The world had shrunk down so much in the time you’d been in the town that it almost felt like you could gather it up and stuff it in your pocket.

You think about home. It looks different now.

Spidery tendrils of dust cling to the gaps between the balusters. It’s so difficult to get light in the house. No matter how many windows you open, there are always corners lost to shadow.

It’s strange how you could be up there one day, replacing the bulb under a fringed lampshade—and the next, you’d be tumbled back underground.

Just last week, you were lying on the couch in the living room.

The dog had padded into the room. She’d been gone for the better part of the day. With the doors unlocked, she went wherever she pleased. It had worried you at first, but it didn't anymore. She'd never leave town. She knew better.

At least, that’s what he’d said.

“Come here, beautiful.”

Jumping up, she curled into the space beside you. You wrapped your arm around her, wrinkling your nose. She reeked terribly of dog, stale corn chips and dirt and musk. You wondered if she might let you give her a bath now that you were in her good graces. It took a while to get there, but she came around. In a manner of speaking, the same thing had happened with you.

Pretty funny, huh?

Earlier, you'd been thinking about the puppies in the pet store window. Did she know about them? Slumbering away behind glass and dust, forever only a couple breaths old. Click. A switch was flipped, and they were as alive as they would ever be, nestled on newspaper shavings. On days like this, did she ever make her way down the hill to see them?

“Girls don’t last in this town.” You murmured, scratching behind her ear. “Just me and you, yeah?”

With a huff, she buried her head in the crook of your neck. It seemed like she was done listening to you.

That was fair, really. Half the time you weren’t even saying what you were really thinking anymore—and when you did, you weren't entirely sure that you made much sense. So much of yourself was locked up in your head and you kept forgetting where you left the keys. It all got clogged up inside your skull and oozed out of your mouth in a trail of sickly platitudes. You were just so thankful, so grateful.

“Sorry.” You whispered. You were always sorry for something, and sometimes you even meant it.

The rays of light were receding off of the arm of the couch, crawling up the wall. Your thoughts filled the living room. You could almost see them floating through the air, bouncing off each other like bubbles. Fleeting, effervescent things, popping as soon as you tried to track their paths. When you turned your head, you could smell his cologne. It was his jacket, hanging discarded over the couch cushions.

For a sudden, terrifying moment, you missed him.

That’s when you said the prayer. You didn't know where you meant for it to go. You guessed it was for whoever was around to hear it. Most days it was him and some of the time it was his mother. Both choices rang false. If God was still in this town, it was here, caught in these beams of light. Or maybe God was the dog heavy on top of you, her breath a rhythmic rumble against your throat.

Maybe you wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was all just wishful thinking.

Today, Bo fastens the collar around your neck. The leather feels heavy against your skin.

He tells you it’s to keep you humble. It’s really just to keep you scared. The distinction doesn’t matter. All the light bulbs you screw in will eventually need to be replaced. Wiping away the dust only gives way to more dust. You'll end up here again and again, knees biting into the concrete.

This almost feels more like his room than the one he sleeps in up at the house. Here, you can feel him more than anywhere else. There's more of you down here too. Real, tangible parts of yourself. Look around. There you are in the stain on the mattress, the blood crusted on the vinyl.

Welcome back, baby.

You keep your gaze on the ground, searching for something to bore your eyes into. Your eyes land on his shoes. Flecked with dirt, they bear obvious signs of wear. There’s a sizable hole in the toe of one of them. You focus in on that as he readjusts the collar, tightening the strap around your neck.

Embarrassment heats your cheeks as you hear him click the leash into place. Even without looking up at him, you can picture the expression on his face. It isn’t a good one. You still can’t decide if he looks more or less like himself when he screws his face up like that.

Tugging roughly at the leash, he forces you to look up at him. Wrists bound; your hands flex uselessly against your back.

“Please—”

Without warning, he sticks his fingers into your mouth, forcing them to the back of your throat. You choke, your hands flexing in panic behind your back. When he pulls them out, you cough, eyes watering.

“Now, normally I like hearin’ you, baby.” He says, smiling down at you. His face is a discordant thing. All American, boy next door. A slice of apple pie that someone put a cigarette out in. “But you know somethin’—”

He crouches down in front of you, still smiling. You watch him silently, shifting anxiously on your knees.

“I never did meet a dog who could talk.” Reaching over, he flicks at the metal ring on the collar. “Feels wrong.”

Dropping the leash, he gets to his feet, striding away. You crane your neck to the side as he rustles around behind you. After a moment, he lets out an affirmative grunt.

Quickly, you pivot your head back to the front. Making his way back to stand in front of you, your eyes flash to the item in his hands. Seemingly amused by your concern, he dangles it in front of you.

It’s a ball gag, shiny and black—noticeably a hair newer than the rest of the junk down here. Maybe he bought it just for you. It’d make a pretty lousy gift, but then again, he was always shit at stuff like that.

He had an incredible knack for getting you shit that you never asked for. Everything came with conditions, a laundry list of provisos and conditions that you didn't remember signing up for. Everything he gave you was actually for him.

“Open up, baby.”

Before you can think to do as he asks, his thumb forces your mouth open, pressing down on your teeth. You sputter as he forces the gag into your mouth, securing it around the back of your neck.

“That’s better, yeah?” He asks, grabbing hold of the leash again.

You stare up at him, exhaling tight bursts of air through your nose. You tilt your head a bit, working your jaw around the ball. Your teeth rest uncomfortably on the rubber.

“You been so good today, think we outta give that pussy some attention, huh?” He smirks. “Whatchu think?”

You whine, the noise coming out in an embarrassingly wet gurgle. Spit runs out of your mouth, dripping down your chin and trickling onto your neck.

“So cute.” His voice is syrupy sweet. He can play at authenticity, but never with you.

He kicks your thighs apart with his foot, nudging the tip of his boot between your legs. His eyebrows shoot up expectantly as he nods down at you.

“Go on, then.”

Disgust is an old friend. She disappears for months at a time, only to show up unexpectedly as if no time has passed. She’s back again, turning your stomach around in her hands. You tilt your hips down. Rubbing yourself against the tip of his shoe, you wonder if he’s doing this for old times' sake.

Rocking forward, you imagine a glossy magazine cover. You could see him on the cover of one. He does have the face for it, when he bothers to put it on.

Bored? 50 Ways to Keep the Spark Alive!

Your jaw is beginning to ache. Bo's hand strokes softly at the top of your head. You hate that the pressure against your clit almost feels good. Your mind unhelpfully supplies more article titles, bubbling up in your mind in obnoxiously curly lettering.

10 Mouth Exercises For The Modern Woman. Have You Tried Screaming? It’s All The Rage in This Town. Once You Start, You Won’t Want to STOP!

“That’s it.” He grins. “What a little slut.”

You look up at him pleadingly, another dribble of spit running down your chin.

“Always got told ya’ shouldn’t let dogs up on the bed.” He muses, the amusement plain in his voice. “But you been on your best behavior, huh?”

Last week, you fell asleep on the couch. You woke up somewhere else.

It was dark and you were pressed against something warm. Not the dog, not the light. Those were both gone. His jacket hanging off the side of the couch, maybe. But it was moving now, and so were you.

“Gotta getcha to bed.” He’d muttered, carrying you up the stairs.

You lay across Bo's lap, the side of your cheek against the dirty mattress. You shudder, your legs shaking.

“Pretty girl.” Reaching over, he tugs you up by the leash, forcing your head back.

Every breath you take seems to make your muscles clench around the plug in your ass. He works it in and out of you slowly and you gulp, shallow breaths whistling out of your nostrils. Every time you jolt forward you can feel him press against you, hard against your belly.

“Hey. What’s wrong, baby? That hurt?”

You nod frantically.

“Huh. Funny…'cuz I don't think it does. You wanna know how I know?” You feel him spread you open, fingers dipping into your pussy. “You’re wet for it, baby.”

He pushes the plug deeper, and your head spins at the sensation. A warbling moan pitches out of your mouth as you feel it sink fully into you. You shiver uncontrollably, whimpering around the gag. Saliva gathers on your tongue, and you feel it spill out of the side of your mouth, pooling under your cheek.

“Good.” He rumbles out, stroking his knuckles along your back. “That’s my good girl.”

You squeeze your eyes shut when you feel him nudge something between your legs. With a click, the vibrator buzzes to life. You let out a startled cry as he strokes it along your pussy.

“It’s nice, huh?” He chuckles. “Don’tchu act like I never gave you anything.”

The vibrator teases against your clit in short bursts, pressing down just long enough to leave you panting before he pulls it away. Almost enough, not quite. You arch back uselessly, chasing after that glittery warm sensation. He laughs a bit, holding the vibrator just above your clit.

You can feel the edge of pleasure, but it’s nothing more than a distant dull thrum. He keeps you hovering over it for what feels like forever, squirming over a feeling that’s hardly there. You bite down on the gag, your sob watery and muffled around the rubber.

“This body’s all mine, girl.” He murmurs, running his thumb down your spine. “I ain’t gotta make it feel good.”

With a hum, he rests the vibrator fully onto your clit. The sensation you’ve been chasing envelopes you, shimmering through your core. Nasally, high-pitched whines escape you in quick, desperate succession.

“But I do, don’t I? ‘Cuz I’m just so sweet.”

You open your eyes, staring up at him in bleary gratitude. He presses down on the plug. The discomfort has crested over and all you feel now is loose and pliant. You moan around the gag, your eyes fluttering.

“You like having somethin’ in your ass while I play with this pussy?”

And you nod, humming out your agreement.

“Mmm-hmm? Yeah?” He teases, mimicking your garbled reply. "That's good, baby. That's real good. Reckoned I’d fuck your ass today, but that pussy’s gettin’ nice and wet for me. Whatchu think? Which hole you want fucked?”

You mumble incoherently through the gag.

“All of ‘em?” He exclaims, the grin evident in his voice. “Well, ain’t that real sweet. Good answer, baby.”

He keeps talking, but it’s getting harder to focus on what he’s saying.

“Next crew that comes through here—maybe I’ll tell ‘em I got a slut who needs breakin’ in. You spread those legs so nice, sure you’d fuckin’ love it.”

The image flashes through your mind. Hands everywhere, laughter and heat and friction from a kaleidoscope of people destined for death. You’re in the middle of all of those faceless people—a tribute to be used up, one last meal for a parade of living corpses.

You’re all destined for the same end, but theirs is closer than they know. Yours is prolonged, tied around touches and salt.

Bo would be in the corner, lighting another cigarette—watching, because he’s always watching. Mouth twitching into a smile because he’s right again. You’re exactly what he thinks you are. You’ll keep your eyes on him because you can’t look at anyone else. After all, if it isn’t his hands, could you even feel it? Would it even count?

The panic is sudden and hot, twisting inside your chest. A desperate little whine builds at the back of your throat.

If I’m everybody else's, I can’t be yours.

“I’d have a hard time sharin’, though.”

Relief. The vibrator pulses against your clit and your eyes go unfocused.

“’S funny. Gotchu down here—and nobody knows.”

Between your legs, your pussy feels pathetically wet, sloppily sliding along the vibrator. You almost wish he’d keep you like this forever, jolts of pleasure lapping hungrily between your legs.

“If there’s even anybody out there lookin’ for ya’…” He muses. “Wish they could see ya’ now, huh? Don’t think they’d feel bad for you, baby.”

Pleasure rolls dizzily through you, electric licks of sensation as he rubs the vibrator against your clit. The rubber in your mouth is an anchor, it feels good on your teeth.

“Betchu thought you were really somethin’ out there.” He chuckles. “How’s it feel to find out you ain’t? Feels good, don’t it?”

You open your eyes and nod up at him, panting out your agreement. Through the haze, you see him smirk. It’s a cruel, cold thing. You’re all full and useless, but he doesn’t need you to say it, because he knows. Thoughtlessly, you shift in his lap, trying desperately to spread your legs wider for him.

“Nothin’ but a little fucktoy.” He coos. “That’s all you are, baby. Want you to remember that.”

He doesn’t need to worry. You remember everything, except what counts.

“Good girls cum, baby. They can’t help it.”

You’re hurtling higher and higher, the pleasure battering against your brain. That’s where the memories are, where the time used to be. It feels better to fill it with this. But then again, you’ve known that from the start.

“Go on, baby. Cum all pretty for me, yeah?”

And you do, a million times over.

He keeps the vibrator pressed firmly against your clit as you tense up, your hands clenching into tight fists behind your back. Your orgasm is a bone-deep shiver, wracking your legs with uncontrollable chills. The pleasure throttles through the last of your coherency, prizing a desperate noise from your throat. Maybe it’s a word. It might be his name. It might just be the time. Maybe this is how you find it again.

The buzz of the vibrator goes dim and far away as he holds it against you. You’re twitching somewhere above it. Each involuntary movement you make brings with it a new hiccup of sensation. Around you, the room seems to spin—whirling into a terrific blur of green and yellow.

It can be beautiful down here, if you squint.

When he lifts the vibrator off your clit, you pitch forward, warbling out a dizzy laugh behind the gag. You wait for the sound of the wand powering off. It doesn't come. Behind you, the buzzing is a low, incessant drone. You’ve barely managed to ground yourself when you hear it kick up a notch.

Click.

The sheets smell like all the thousand versions of you, each one answering questions she shouldn’t. Four walls surround you and they feel like they’re collapsing down on all sides. They could be made of plaster or stone, but they might just be something else. Your limbs, your heart, your mind, him. Separate appendages, but all linked. All part of the same crumbling structure.

A scream builds at the back of your throat as you feel him set it back on your clit.

“We ain’t done, baby.”

Your sleep is deep. Quiet. Only one dream.

Bo’s sitting on the edge of the bed, an inky blot in the gray morning light. He makes a move to stand up and you grab onto his arm.

“Go back to bed, angel.” He murmurs.

It almost sounds real enough.

When you wake up, you're alone. You try the door and find it unlocked.

Figures.

Upstairs, the shop is empty. There’s a can of unopened Coke on the counter. You crack it open and take a sip. Lukewarm bubbles of carbonation fizz over your tongue. God, he really was shit with gifts.

Walking up the hill, you catch your reflection in the window of a sedan. You look haggard, your hair a raggedy clump around your shoulders. You try the handle and it cracks open easily. Crawling into the dirty belly of the car, you wince as you lower yourself down into the seat. You sit with one leg dangling out, absentmindedly studying the dusty speedometer.

There are cars in other towns, parked on different streets. There are places without dust. There are always other futures. Sometimes you turn down the wrong road, and sometimes you die. Sometimes you don’t.

That’s just the way these things go.

You imagine the town collapsing in on itself like a pop-up book. There’s Bo, frowning down at it. He seemed like he’d been the type of kid that wasn’t allowed to check those kinds of things out from the library. He’d bring them back with pages ripped out, scrawled with pen marks. Pilled white card stock where faces used to be.

God, you’re miserably sore. It’s impossible to narrow down the ache to a certain part of you.

Lifting your leg into the car, you pull the door shut. The dust inside tickles your nose. Unthinkingly, you reach up, your fingers brushing against the metal buckle of the seatbelt. The sting is sharp and immediate. You pull your hand away with a hiss, your hand smarting. When you reach for the seatbelt again, you’re careful to avoid the clip.

You buckle yourself in. Click. Alive again, now more than ever. Wrapping your hands around the steering wheel, you close your eyes. The leather is hot against your palms, and it hurts a bit. Just a little. That’s just the pain again, but you don’t really mind. It’s something you can keep. It’s all yours.

Nothin’ you can’t handle, girl.

That’s what he said last night. Afterwards.

You were laying with your head in his lap, the itchy crust of dried spit against your cheek. It was then that you decided that you were so ugly that you had to be beautiful. You had to be worth looking at. You’d rolled over on your back, looking up at him through swollen eyes. That’s when he said it, so low and quiet that you almost didn’t register it. There’d been a an edge of pride to his voice.

Nothin’ at all.

A lick of pleasure thrums between your legs and your eyes flash open. You unbuckle the seatbelt and scramble out of the car, ignoring the pain that sings through your limbs.

Things like that? They always came with an or else tacked at the end. You remember that, don’t you? You couldn’t have forgotten.

Looming above you, the house is a dark blot of ink against the blue sky.

There were no collars for dogs in this town—they didn’t need them. They’d always find their way back home, pawing at the door for some scraps. The only leash is the one that exists in your mind. You can almost see it, trailing off your neck and up the hill, looped messily around the front doorknob.

You were going to die here with all that wetness between your legs, begging him to take out more of you with his teeth.

It's like he said.

You don’t need to tie up a dog if it loves you.

#I FINALLY finished this shit. it's horrific. tysm for coming there are drinks n snacks @ the door #we're goin back 2 ambrose I'm sorry 2 say #and our first stop? oh. just down these stairs #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher community #x reader #my fics #in his basement like damn bitch u live like this #shit is dis cos tang #r/malelivingspace for fuckin real #I've stared @ these bingo bongo ass words for far too long. so I'm sure there's errors. but I will fix them when BRAINCELL lmao

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 months

Text

Secret Sorrows || 2 -B.Barnes

Summary: Former special ops, Bucky, seeks solace in a cold refuge to escape his past. However, his haunted history catches up, unraveling mysteries that persist relentlessly.

Warning: Domestic Violence. But Bucky will save the day.

Series Masterlist

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Bucky found himself in the role of Ethan's bodyguard after being hired. The following day, Y/N and Ethan shared a meal during breakfast, with Bucky standing guard alongside others. The surreal realization of Iris having a twin still lingered in Bucky's mind.

Amidst the routine, Ethan's ongoing grief manifested in his lack of appetite. A dropped spoon into his cereal soup signaled his distress, and he expressed, "I want to see grandma."

In her characteristically cold manner, Y/N replied, "She's coming. With grandfather."

Ethan's greeting turned into a nervous, almost startled, "Hii," as he spotted his grandfather approaching.

Bucky observed the sudden fear in the young boy and quietly inquired of a colleague, "What's wrong?"

The fellow bodyguard, Peter, responded hushedly, "The young master's grandfather from the mother's side, Jeremy Aston. He's strict."

Jeremy Aston. The name sent a shiver down Bucky's spine. He knew this person is the reason why Iris abruptly left the academy and never returned.

Bucky, seeking more information, asked Peter, "Where are the grandparents from the father's side?"

Peter replied, "Ethan's other grandfather is still in jail."

Peter added, "Miss Y/N became the legal guardian after the lawyer read the will of Ethan's father two days ago. The entire Van Alen family was furious because that means Miss Y/N now holds the reins as the CEO in the Van Alen business until Ethan comes of age."

Bucky remarked, "Wow, the lives of rich people are different."

Suddenly, an announcement echoed, "Mr. and Mrs. Aston have arrived."

Ethan whispered with a trembling voice, "Grandpa is here too?" Then he looked at Bucky. Bucky recognized the expression, reminiscent of the fear he saw in Ethan's eyes in the Antarctic.

What made this kid afraid?

The door opened, revealing two elderly figures.

Jeremy Aston is an old-fashioned man known for his strict adherence to rules. Iris rarely spoke about her father, but when she did, Bucky could sense her fear.

Ethan, displaying a mix of excitement and apprehension, quickly abandoned his chair and ran to the older woman. "Grandma."

June Aston leaned down, enveloping her grandson in a warm hug. "My baby," she exclaimed.

The room buzzed with restrained tension as Jeremy observed the scene. Bucky, still on guard, couldn't help but wonder about the secrets concealed beneath the wealthy facade of the Van Alen and Aston family.

Jeremy brushed Ethan's hair, saying, "A big boy like you shouldn't cry."

Ethan replied with a tremor, "Yes, grandpa," seeking refuge in his grandma's arms.

"Y/N, come here," Jeremy ordered.

Y/N clenched her fists, and as she approached Jeremy, suddenly she felt her cheeks sting.

'SLAP'

The crisp sound of the slap echoed in the room. Pretending not to see, everyone turned their gaze away except for Bucky. He witnessed Y/N being slapped and falling to the ground.

How could a father do this to his daughter?

Ethan hid his face, and June looked away, her expression holding back tears. It became clear why Ethan sounded scared when his grandfather's name was mentioned.

Y/N remained silent, fixing her outfit as she stood up. Jeremy, angered, questioned, "How could my grandson get kidnapped, and it made into the news? You didn't do enough!"

Maintaining her composure, Y/N calmly responded, "It's my mistake. I won't let that happen again."

In a fit of rage, Jeremy pointed his finger at her forehead, pushing her head multiple times. "You better! Ethan is the heir for both families!"

The repeated pushes threatened to make her fall again, the earlier slap still stinging in her left ear. Suddenly, she felt her forehead no longer under attack and her back being supported.

It turned out Bucky was holding her back and had grabbed Jeremy's hand. Bucky asserted, "That's enough. She's an adult, not a kid."

Stunned, everyone remained silent. No one dared to challenge Jeremy, and even he was taken aback, exclaiming, "How dare you!!!"

Jeremy sensed a strange familiarity in the man before him, though he couldn't fathom knowing someone so rude. Pulling his hand away, he dismissed Bucky's touch as if it were contamination.

"Who are you?!" Jeremy demanded.

Safely behind Bucky, Y/N felt a sense of protection, like a formidable wall shielding her from a monstrous presence.

Bucky met Jeremy's gaze and calmly asserted, "I'm a bodyguard hired by Van Alen. My duty is to protect. Miss Y/N became the legal guardian, which means she's part of the Van Alen family."

Jeremy scoffed, disdain evident. "Who even wants to hire a rogue like you?"

A surprising voice interjected, "Me."

Both Jeremy and June were taken aback as Ethan stepped forward. Liberating himself from June's arms, he ran to stand behind Bucky.

Looking up at his aunt, Ethan noticed her reddened cheeks and a trace of blood on her lips. His aunt might be stern, but she was only strict. The absolute terror lay in his grandfather, scarier than any monster he'd read about in books.

With a determined look, Ethan tugged at the fabric of Bucky's pants, prompting him to bend down. Meeting the little kid's earnest gaze, Bucky felt his eyes welling up, a silent testament to the emotions stirred by Ethan's innocent yet profound words.

"My aunt didn't do anything wrong!!!" Ethan declared with a touch of defiance. "She kept me safe even though she always works and works. She never angry and yelled at me! But why does Grandpa always bully Aunt Y/N?"

Jeremy, caught off guard, never anticipated such a candid revelation from his grandson. His brows furrowed in confusion and disbelief while his hands clenched into fists.

"Wha-? I did that because your aunt did something wrong," Jeremy stammered, attempting to justify his actions.

Bucky, now standing tall, maintained a steady gaze on Jeremy. A steely resolve flickered in his eyes, accentuating the intensity of his emotions. The clenching of his jaw and the subtle tightening of his fists revealed the simmering anger beneath the surface.

"You made my boss cry," Bucky retorted, his voice carrying an undertone of reproach. Crossing his arms in defiance, he added, "You have 5 minutes to leave this place."

Fueled with anger, Jeremy pointed an accusatory finger at Bucky, "You!!!"

In response, Bucky swiftly intercepted, breaking Jeremy's pointing finger with a swift, assertive motion.

"You seem like a bully," Bucky declared his body language exuding strength and disdain.

Jeremy, frustrated and defeated, let out a primal scream, "Arrghh!!"

The room filled with Jeremy's frustrated scream, a primal roar of indignation. Meanwhile, Y/N, now composed and in control, directed her assistant with a commanding yet restrained tone, "Send my father to the hospital."

The assistant, responding promptly, acknowledged, "Yes, ma'am."

With these actions and reactions, the chaos that had erupted moments ago began to subside. Bucky's assertiveness had not only shifted the power dynamics but also brought a semblance of justice.

Y/N's relieved sigh carried a weight of exhaustion as her eyes met Ethan's. The unspoken understanding between them lingered in the air, a testament to their shared burden.

Ethan, adopting a defensive posture, declared, "This doesn't mean we're friends," before turning away and leaving Y/N behind. His uncertain addition, "Yet," hung in the air, leaving a trace of vulnerability in his wake.

Y/N couldn't help but scoff at the theatrics of her nephew's departure. However, beneath the surface, a storm of emotions raged within her.

Sensing her turmoil, Bucky approached and gently guided her to sit down. With a swift command, he arranged for a first aid kit, his concern etched across his face.

"I'm fine," Y/N insisted, but Bucky's stern response halted her protests.

"No, you're not. You just lost your sister, and your father hit you. That's not okay."

Y/N sighed, her words revealing the deep wounds of a lifetime. "That's how I live as an unwanted child."

Bucky flinched at her words, echoing Iris's similar sentiment haunting him. Memories resurfaced of a time when he and Iris skipped class, seeking solace under a tree. Iris, lying on his arm, had confessed, "In my family, I'm the unwanted child."

As Bucky thought about the parallels between Iris and Y/N, the mystery surrounding Y/N deepened. The shared tattoo and the mirrored expressions of sorrow all added layers to the enigma Y/N.

The atmosphere, thick with angst and uncertainty, hung over them. Bucky couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Y/N's story than met the eye. The question lingered in his mind like an unsolved puzzle: 'Who are you, Y/N?'

Author Note :

Hey friends,

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t0mkaulitz-luver · 18 days

Text

Bill Kaulitz x Reader smut + some fluff at the end.

This is the request where they wanted Bill to try hitting it from the back for the first time. Sorry it took so long to get out i’ve been a bit sick.

Dom! Bill, Sub! reader, fingering, doggy style, hair pulling, one ass slap, that’s about it just lovely smut, lmk if i’ve missed anything.

Y/N

BILL

Me and Bill are just cuddling whilst watching TV, he’s spooning me tracing circles on my stomach. A sex scene comes on in the film and i can feel something poking my back. “Bill can you move the remote please?”. “That’s not the remote” (oh!) “Bill you’re so dirty!” “Sorry baby i can’t help myself, they make me think of us” *wink wink* I feel his hand tracing down to my area, his hands slipping into my shorts rubbing slow circled over my panties. I let out a small whimper of pleasure.

He slips off my PJ shorts and moves my panties to the side before slipping two off his fingers into my hole, i moan in response. I try to turn towards him but he keeps my firmly held infront of him. He starts pumping his fingers in and out of me, curling up to hit my spot, i grip his arm my nails digging into the skin. I moan every time his fingers hit my spot so deliciously. My walls tighten around his fingers as my high creeps up, he notices this and pulls away. I let out a whimper of frustration. “Baby, why’d you stop?” i ask trying to turn around again. “I want to try something new schatzi, stay still i’ll take good care of you”.

He pulls my panties down my legs and tosses them with my shorts, he then takes off his own PJ pants and boxers pulling his erection out and spreading my legs, his pre-cum dripping from his tip. “Are you okay with this baby? do you trust me?” i hesitate but i do trust him so i nod. “Words my love, i need words” i swallow thickly, getting a bit impatient. “Yes bill please, please use me”. He then flips us over so my face is in the pillow and my ass is in the air, he spreads my legs further before dipping his tip between my folds. “Please bill, i really need it” i whine the wetness between my legs becoming uncomfortable. He smacks my ass, not harshly just as a warning.

His tip slides into my entrance slowly, i can feel every inch as it goes in until he bottoms out i let out a lewd moan. He grips my ass his head bowed in pleasure at the feeling of my tight walls gripping his cock. He slowly slides out, and back in, gathering a slow pace. He thrusts himself into me, his hips clapping against my ass. His hands gripping my waist, “Please go faster Bill”, he begins to speed up his thrusts both of us letting out moans and groans at the feeling. He slows. He pulls my hair into a pony tail holding with one hand, his other remaining on my waist. He thrusts faster and faster i can feel his tip hitting my spot almost every thrust. I let out pornographic moans at the sensation. All of a sudden he pulls my hair up making my back hit his chest, my head leaning back to rest on his shoulder. He thrusts even faster, harder, deeper. He lets out small whimpers and groans at the new angle. His grip becomes tighter on my waist. “Touch yourself” he whispers lowly in my ear. One of my hands sliding down to rub my clit, the other trailing behind me to grip his waist. The mixed feeling makes me moan much louder, my walls flutter around his cock making him moan, i can feel my high creeping up on me, my walls clench around him. “Bill i’m- i’m gonna-“ i bite my lip to hold back my oncoming climax stopping my movements on my clit. “I’m almost there baby hold on another minute”. I hum, biting my lip hard enough to draw blood trying to hold my orgasm off for a minute. “I can’t hold it any longer Bill please~” i whimper feeling overstimulated. “Come on baby, cum all over my cock.” I let out an extremely loud moan as i release all over him my juices completely coating his cock leaving a white ring at the bottom of his shaft. He’s close behind, thrusting a few more times before painting my walls with his white stringy cum. His groans fill my ear with each thrust.

He rides out both of our highs before pulling out slowly, my hole dripping with our pleasure. The white creamy liquid trailing down my thighs and dripping onto the sheets below. I collapse forward out of exhaustion. “You okay baby? i didn’t go to hard did i?” he says, concern lacing his voice. “No not at all, i really enjoyed that, we’ll definitely do that again”. He leaves the room im not sure where he’s gone but i’m too tired to care. He comes back with a rag and wipes my sensitive pussy, being careful to not overstimulate me. He flips me over and picks me up bridal style, he takes me to the bathroom where he has filled up the bath tub, he sits me down in it making sure i’m comfortable before running back into our room to change the bed sheet. He comes back and sits behind me in the bath, laying me against his chest, i look up at him from behind as he smiles down at me and starts playing with my hair. He kisses me on the forehead then sits me up so he can wash me. After he’s finished, he lifts me out of the bath and helps me get into some new clean pajamas. He then puts me on the counter to blow dry my hair for me. When he’s finished i give him a kiss, not a lust filled one just a sweet one. “Thank you Bill, you take such good care of me” my eyes are hazy and tired. “Of course my love i love you my girl” He gives me a kiss, “I love you more Bill”

He lifts me off the counter and carries me back to our bed, laying me down on his chest, his hands playing with my hair as we both fall asleep.

#bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz

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neuroprincess · 1 year

Text

Baby's First Flu - Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Melissa Schemmenti/Female Reader

Summary: Luca catches his first flu in daycare and Melissa can't help but worry about leaving her son and wife at home.

Classification: Domestic fluff

Warnings: Sick baby, flu symptoms, breastfeeding

Word count: +3100

Unrevised

The first sign was the most alarming for Melissa, she had prepared carrot and potato soup, the boy's favorite, wanting to prevent any cold, flu or viruses he might catch at daycare. She knows how it works at this time of the year, the bunch of small children with colds and stuffy noses contaminating their classmates like a vicious cycle. As a teacher she has seen this happen a hundred times, it always starts with one and this one usually doesn't miss class, she doesn't blame the parents for sending them, sometimes it's impossible to leave the children at home because of work. And she knew immediately what she would face when the 10-month-old turned his face snuggling into the upholstery of the feeding seat, slyly. But she couldn't believe that right in the first week back to classes. After much insistence Luca ate a few spoonfuls, preferring the tasty broth to solid food and this was the second sign, sore throat. The third, irritability, manifested itself when the baby tried to bite the redhead when she brought the spoon close to his mouth in a failed attempt to get him to eat some more.

"Tomorrow we have to take LuLu to the doctor, I'm pretty sure he has the beginnings of a flu." she comments to her wife as she enters the kitchen, already dressed for the night in pajamas.

"But how is that possible? It's only been a week since he's been in daycare." Y/N questions confused, trying to remember if she had seen any signs of sickness in the other children "The Murphy's son had a runny nose, I don't know how I didn't notice that before."

"And you couldn't do anything about it, you just started teaching again and we can't predict everything that can happen. Never underestimate the power of a child flu." she reassures the younger and stands up, taking the baby on the lap with some difficulty "God, we have to stop giving this little boy so much mashed potatoes and spaghetti."

"I told you, the pediatrician said he's almost 6 pounds over average."

"He's about the right average... for a Schemmenti." they both smile and the baby babbles between them, his voice coming out hoarse, then he makes a pout threatening to cry "LuLu, it's okay to be a little chubby." she laughs as the baby stares at her confused and brings his little hands up to mouth, sucking.

"What do you think about giving him a bath and checking his fever?" Y/N proposes approaching them, suggestively extending her arms.

"No no no, Mrs. Schemmenti! You won't get rid of cleaning the kitchen, this is our agreement, the one who cooks doesn't clean." she walks past her wife and back two steps as she is about to leave the kitchen, depositing a quick kiss on her lips "Don't forget the blender."

One of the privileges of motherhood with Luca is that the boy loves baths, maybe one of the things he loves most, after eating and playing with his mommies. He loves when his full and coppery hair is massaged when washed, the warm water enveloping him while little hands play with the toys, and the only time he complains is when he has to get out of tub. Fighting against the towel and being dried off to put on pajamas. The bath was similarly quiet, but unlike the others he didn't fight his way out, almost falling asleep in the process. Melissa dressed him in yellow Lion King pajamas. She is brushing her son's hair when Y/N arrives on the second floor after leaving the kitchen shining so clean, admiring them in the nursery doorway, just watching the cute scene with sparkles in eyes as they have a tender moment.

"Just an initial fever." Mel says without even looking back, sensing her wife's presence "We'll have to keep an eye on him during the night in case the fever rises."

"How about sleeping with us?" she asks hopefully, although the baby has always had his own room and is used to sleeping alone, Luca slept between them a few times in the first months of life. It was comfortable and practical, helped the little family sleep better in this rough phase.

"Great idea, amore mio."

"Of course, he loves to be near you. Tomorrow I'll take him to the pediatrician if he doesn't get better." the redhead is about to contest when she is interrupted "No, you won't run away from the class, I only have two classes." Y/N winks at her and rushes to tidy up the bed.

Exhaustion took the couple down easy and just lay their heads on the pillow to sleep, their son between them, resting on the baby nest bed, wrapped in his own blanket, which he is practically pet and has difficulty sleeping without. About two hours later they were awakened by a movement in the bed, Melissa was the first to wake up and widened eyes to find Luca face down, orange drool dripping from his mouth, clothes, nest and reaching the baby blanket, luckily it didn't reach the sheets. Y/N woke up next, startled by the sight. Both woke up immediately, the redhead went to wash what was dirty and look for some fever medicine left over from her younger nephews' visits, the other cleaned the baby and gave him some water, hoping that it would take away the strange taste in his mouth, and hydrate as well. She had read several maternity books which always emphasized the importance of hydration in these situations, a quick google search helped too. Minutes later Melissa returns and can't stop smiling at the scene she finds, her wife is lying on the side, her pajama top up while LuLu lazily feeds. They have been working on weaning for four months, after the introduction he barely asked to feed and has adjusted well to the new diet. Inside she was thankful that Y/N is still producing milk, after all, she always loved to see her feeding their son, feeling privileged to be part of this moment of intimacy, of connection, it's precious and at the same time so important for the baby's health. The nutrients and antibodies provided being essential for the baby's immune system, as well as strengthening it, and protecting him.

After that they had to wake up three more times to check that the fever had not risen, and luckily the opposite happened, the fever went down momentarily after breastfeeding. Without the need to use any of the meds that Mel found. The next time was to change the diaper, and it was a kind of torture to clean a baby with diarrhea at 4am, but Y/N managed, with a lot of effort and tampons in the nose. The last time was when Luca woke up at 6am with a flushed face, runny nose, irritable and crying at the top of his lungs. The fever returned and much higher, the two freaked out, calling the pediatrician immediately, after recommendations she passed on a short list of medicines and Melissa had to drive around city looking for an open pharmacy to buy them.

"Don't tell me you have a flu too." she whispers entering the house as she sees her wife sipping lemon and ginger tea while their son is lying on her lap, once again feeding "Lucky for you I also brought throat lozenges and some anti-flu for us."

"I am paying the price for underestimating the power of a child's flu. I woke up with a sore throat." Y/N confesses and settles the boy on lap, waking him up from his sleepy state, even he hadn't slept properly "I asked Jacob to cover my classes, he gladly accepted. No surprise, he loves art."

"I should call the school, but..."

"You have a commitment with many students and no one would be able to cover for you." the younger completes and smiles warmly "It's okay, honey. I understand you and we'll be fine."

"Pinky promise?"

"Pinky Promise."

She comes closer and leaves a gentle kiss on both their temple, struggling not to kiss her wife's lips, also being sick isn't an option. Then she gave the medicines, giving her advice about time and amount, reinforcing the last part, worried about how this could affect their son. As well as the amount of medication the girl is going to take, since she is back to breastfeeding, even if only momentarily. Then she prepared a strong breakfast for the family and rushed to get dressed, knowing that she would be a few minutes late and with a class like the one she has now 5 minutes is enough to do a lot of damage.

"Don't forget to call me at lunch time or if anything happens." she reinforces one last time as she walks out the door, the sight of her wife and sick son makes the heart squeeze her before closing the door and heading out to start the day. The two on her mind the whole way and during class.

The wait until lunchtime was torturous, she could barely concentrate to manage the class and by great luck got both age groups to behave, resulting in a quiet morning in this matter. But inside the teacher is a whirlwind, checking her phone every half hour hoping for some text updating on their health status, maybe a picture would reassure her for the rest of the class. But it never comes.

After the night without sleep or proper rest and the visit to the pharmacy in the morning she didn't even remember to make something for lunch, luckily Barbara, who heard immediately from Jacob that Y/N and Luca are sick while he was talking animatedly about art classes, brought extra food so she wouldn't have to order takeout or stuff herself with snacks. She knew very well how her friend would react at her son's first bad flu, a little scared, flustered and very protective. She has been through this before and no matter how many times her own children have gone through the same situation she has always worried equally each time, Mel is new to the mothering world and this is just the beginning.

"No texts yet. And she hasn't answered my calls either." the redhead sighs in frustration and drops the phone on the table, turning to the pot of salad, nibbling "I wonder if something happened? I trust Y/N, but she's sick too."

"Mel, they are fine, if LuLu wasn't well she would call you immediately." Barb put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, trying to convey reassurance.

"What if she went to the grocery store to buy milk and got into an accident, the traffic could be horrible..." she began to ramble on possibilities, all negative about bad things that could happen to both, escalating to worst assumptions "What if she passed out in the bathroom and hit the head? I wonder if they are in the hospital? I mean, what if the fever..."

"Mel, your phone." the friend warned her and sipped the coffee, imagining that now she'll finally be at peace, mentally crossing her fingers that it's Y/N to reassure the fierce mother's soul.

"Oh shit, finally." the woman doesn't even try to control her dirty vocabulary when she sees her wife's name on the screen, two messages in a row.

The first is a picture of Luca, dressed in a cute jumpsuit sitting in the feeding seat, little hands clutching a bowl of orange buds.

"Hi, I'm sorry for not answering earlier, I will confess that we both passed out in bed as soon as we took medicine. We just woke up a little while ago. His fever has gone down much, he is even eating, although he seems to prefer to suckle. He has a dry cough, but everything is okay. We love you so much! <3"

She cracked a big smile admiring the picture and reading the text, feeling immediately reassured to know that the two of them are well. Before she could start answering other texts came in.

"He dropped the oranges and ran into my lap, this boy knows what he wants, cried until I let him."

Attached to this text is a selfie of her with LuLu on lap, under the blanket covering him all she can see are the little hands clutching her sweater as he feeds.

"We lost that battle to weaning, but not the war XD maybe we have to start over."

"He knows what's good."

Melissa replies and smiles, saving the picture as a new background screen.

"That's why he's obsessed with you. Oh, Annette lent us the compressor nebulizer machine, she said it helped the kids when they were sick. Can you stop by her house after work?"

"Sure, amore mio." the redhead mentally writes this down, Annette lives near Abbott, it would be easy to pick up the machine at her house.

"And it's not my fault I'm the favorite ;)" she adds.

They talked for a few more minutes until lunchtime was over, the teacher happy to receive heartening news of the situation at home, her son is not suffering with as much pain as the night before, his fever is down and, what made her happiest, that he is eating again. In the last four minutes before entering the classroom they made a quick video call so Luca could hear her voice, he laughed and vibrated every second, barely letting Y/N hold the phone properly, trying to take it from her hands and have Melissa's full attention to him. The goodbye was more painful than imagined, reluctantly she pressed the hang up button and her eyes burned to see him grumble in a start of crying when she said goodbye, not even saying they would see each other soon calmed him. The call ended with Luca calling her Mama and hands reaching out to touch her, as if he could reach his mom through the screen. An uncomfortable feeling weighed on her chest when she started teaching the class again, slowly dissipating, the positive part of having such a big and chaotic class of little kids post break is that there is not much space or time to keep letting these thoughts take over her mind when she has to take care of them. The texts that were sent afterwards also helped to reassure her, Y/N sent her various pictures of the afternoon with LuLu, there is even a short sequence of him devouring a pot of yogurt while watching Word Party, it's a total mess and the cutest thing she could receive. The rest of the day was calm and quiet, the pictures filled the space of worry and longing replaced it. She can't wait to get home, especially after the last message, which she opened in the parking lot, an attached picture of the two lying in bed, the baby resting on mom's lap and clearly sleepy, eyes half-closed and the familiar Schemmenti pout.

"Principessa, I'm home!" Mel announces closing the front door and leaves her shoes aside, without waiting for an answer she runs up the stairs towards the bedroom "Amore mio?" she calls out, no answer.

The scene she finds as she opens the door is heart melting, both are lying in bed, blankets messy as they stand side by side, Luca, who inherited from the redhead being spacious in bed by nature, has arms and legs outstretched, one chubby little foot placed on mom's face as one hand grabs the collar of her sweater, Y/N has one hand holding the baby protectively from the back and the other holding his little leg. Melissa smiles and tries not to make a sound as she approaches the duo, walking on tiptoe until she reaches the dresser on her side of the bed, leaving the machine she picked up at Annette's house on the surface. Then she takes off her jacket, throwing it on the armchair in the corner of the room, and sneaks into bed, trying to position her son so that he can sleep properly, waking her wife in the process.

"Hi, sleepy head. You feeling better?" she asks as she finishes positioning LuLu better, leaving him between them, he seems to sense his mom's presence and cuddles into her "Even sleeping, I'm the favorite."

"Little traitor..." the younger one props herself up on elbows and leans in to kiss her, but remembers the danger of giving her the flu, so she throws herself on the bed disappointed "We're okay, LuLu ate some things, not everything. He preferred to suckle. But he didn't throw up anymore, his fever is down. Which is a good sign. His cough is still there and nose is stuffy. Did you bring the machine?"

"Yes, I couldn't forget. We can use it when he wakes up." Melissa proposes and moves closer, taking her fingers to Y/N's hair, stroking tenderly "Now I want to know about my beautiful wife, how are you feeling?"

"Horrible, how can a flu that came from such a lovely little being be so strong?" the two laugh and she ends up coughing, putting the forearm in front of her mouth so it doesn't hit the other woman "My throat still hurts, headache and I'm so tired, the last time fatigue hit me like this was in pregnancy."

"I told you, you can't underestimate it." she blinks, pitying that her beloved was going through this "Did the antiflu helped at all?"

"A little bit." Y/N signaled with her fingers and smiled, trying to reassure her "I'm okay, I swear to you. No need to worry, we'll both be fine."

"But he gave me a scare in the middle of the night. I don't know what I was thinking leaving you alone with him, I can't imagine how hard your day was."

"Well, we survived and that's what matters."

"You're right, that's what matters." the redhead gets up carefully so as not to wake the baby and receives a questioning look from her wife, who thought she would continue to lie down with them "I'm going to make us something to eat, have you had a bath yet? I'll prepare one for you."

"Thank you, honey."

"It's the least I can do." then Melissa walks out the door, but returns in two seconds, with a small smile on her lips.

"What is it?" Y/N asks after a few moments of being stared at without understanding anything.

"Thank you for taking care of our little boy so well. You are an incredible mom." the teacher sends a kiss in the air "I fucking love you!" she whispers.

"I fucking love you more!"

"I bet you don't..."

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #female reader #domestic fluff #abbott elementary x reader #fanfiction

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sgiandubh · 8 months

Note

Hi! Hope you’re well! What’s your favorite SC moment?

Dear Moment Anon,

I'm more than ok: enjoying a calmer week at the office and the lazy end of summer vibe, in this very old and very clumsy city like no other I've ever lived in - how about you?

Sorry for the delayed answer and blame it on the different time zones. I read your message this morning, while having my second frappé of the day and let it hang on somewhere, on the outskirts of my brain. So, there goes (and just so you know, I love this kind of questions):

There are so many, it's almost excruciating to pick one. But if I leave aside all the promo interviews, the BTS and the photoshoots (oh, the epic one in Prague and ah, the tender one in South Africa, hehe), it would have to be this, and not for the ehrm... reason you'd immediately think about:

youtube

The NYC Saks Fifth Avenue interview, on April 7, 2016. Blink it and you'll miss it, because it's all about the first 17 seconds of a very revealing moment (yes, her bag and yes, his trousers - IYKYK). He was flustered, he told her so, she immediately got the memo and went into full battledress mode. She did exactly what I would do and what you would do, for that matter: she spontaneously claimed him, calmed him down in two seconds and took the bull by the horns. That, Anon, is not your best friend pulling you out of a quirky situation, but flawless, genuine couple dynamics and Symbiosis 101. You can't make this up. This is not fan service. This is them.

On a very close second place, Icecreamgate in Atlanta (2018). But that is another story, at a different moment in time, when it was clear these people were consistently sharing way more than a spoon. A flat, for example.

And I cannot resist sharing with you what will always be, for me, a flagrant S&C/J&C overlapping moment, something that still moves me to tears, every damned single time:

youtube

We don't talk enough, I think, about the beauty that A. Malcolm is, probably because of the book crowd's disappointment. After reading carefully the scene in Voyager, I am going to stick with the movie. I know, oh là là, blasphemy again, but I found the book version wanting and a bit expected. Whereas, this...words are useless: what can perfect mean, when you watch it? Oh, Sam Roland Heughan, the acting powerhouse that you are (and totally unaware of it). But without a real life and love experience, this scene would have looked very differently, I think. Also, knowing what we do, by now, how is it possible not to find completely arresting and utterly moving that "there's the two of us, now" line, right there?

Thanks, Anon. I had something else in mind for this evening and I still do. A bit later, though. :)

#Anon

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everlastingdreams · 3 months

Text

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 40

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Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title: Playing With Fire

Notes: Almost the last chapter ;_;

Warnings: Grief. Violence. Torture. Sexual Assault. Rape Threat. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +220K

Chapter: 40/41

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You didn’t see the Ash Man again until dinner, when he walked into the room right behind Helio. Mirena was eating her stew, trying to read her husband’s eyes from across the room as he neared her. You had asked, but she had no idea why Helio needed Lancelot tonight.

Helio took place next to Mirena, and you saw Lancelot scan the room for a place to sit. Squirrel was on your left, Ciro on his. The seat on your right was free but you could see him be hesitant to take it as the table you had chosen was the same your parents were seated at. Still, there was some distance at the long table, knights were still in between.

You made eye contact and nodded to the chair next to you. Then, just when he appeared to be accepting the invitation, Ser Florent took the seat.

“Good evening.” The knight was nothing but polite manners, and he even filled up your tankard with the jug of water.

Lancelot found a place to sit next to Ser Aodh instead.

Squirrel pulled away your attention. He was inspecting a piece of carrot on his spoon. “I miss the cheese.”

You shushed him. “Squirrel… eat your stew…”

The boy moved his spoon and dropped the piece of carrot in your own bowl. You were looking down at it, stunned by the action and how unbothered Squirrel was by it.

Even Ser Florent had seen it happen, “Percival. Where are your manners?”

The boy’s reaction to the scolding was to fish it out of your bowl again with his spoon, and eating the carrot. Ciro’s eyes were blown wide at the lack of table manners Squirrel had.

You were at a loss for words. Ser Florent shut his eyes, processing what he had witnessed. And Lancelot was watching it all from afar, trying to keep himself composed by hiding the smile behind the tankard of water he was drinking from. Ser Florent let out a breath.

“We will work on his manners.” He promised.

It was to be seen. “Good luck.”

The knight leaned in closer and whispered something to you that left you stunned. You didn’t really know what to say. He leaned in again, briefer this time. Ser Florent saw your rattled response and squeezed your hand once for encouragement.

“I just thought you should know.” He said, then fixed his attention back to his dinner.

You looked at Squirrel and Ciro, who were chatting away whilst eating their stew. Then your eyes were drawn to the ones of the Ash Man across the room. He watched the scene with interest.

The Sky Folk scent he recognized got closer to him, and he bit back the irritation that came along with it.

Matthew leaned down a little as he filled his tankard right next to him, while there were more than enough others jugs of water to use in the room. “I’d be worried too if someone was whispering sweet nothings in my woman’s ears.”

It was the only thing he said to him, he didn’t even look his way.

“I trust her.” The Ash Man gritted out through his teeth.

Matthew ignored his response, and went to sit with a group of knights. Lancelot watched as you ate your stew, seemingly lost in deep thought.

After dinner, you stayed behind and helped others clean up the tables. You noticed his shadow first, whilst picking up a pile of plates, “Here to help me?”

Without waiting for the answer, you handed him the pile. Lancelot quietly followed while you kept putting plates on top of the pile. At the persistent silence, you turned to him. His eyes locked on you briefly, then fell away.

The gears in your mind were turning, searching for an explanation, “You saw Ser Florent whisper to me?”

The tensing in his jaw gave it away, he looked so uncomfortable, like he did not dare to ask.

You put his mind at ease right away, “He spoke to me about Squirrel, and didn’t want the boy to hear. He wasn’t trying to seduce me, his lady love is all he talks about.”

Now he began to collect plates that were left behind as well. “Forgive me. I know you would not…” A sigh fell out of him. “I cannot help but be aware that others can and will vie for your affection.”

Insecurity was getting the best of him tonight. He would never let it show to others, but it was clear for you to see, because you recognized the feeling but all too well.

“It’s not my fault if others-” You began.

“I know.” He stopped you, and put the plates down on the table where others were collecting them to wash.

You lowered your voice so only he would hear, “Just know that you are the only one who’s lips I keep longing for.”

A plate slipped from his hand and hit the floor, the metal loud and obnoxious against the tiles as it drew the attention of others. He swallowed hard, sank down to pick the plate up and collect his thoughts together again as well. Once back to his feet, he cleared his throat while putting the plate with the others.

“Squirrel asked Ser Florent where I was just before dinner.” You told him

A frown creased his forehead, “Why did he whisper it to you?”

Your voice grew quiet. “Because… Squirrel accidentally referred to me as ‘Momma’ while asking.”

Lancelot’s eyes widened ever so little, then they softened. “Momma?”

“Shut up.” You didn’t know what to think or how to respond to the news.

He folded his hands behind his back, pleased with the knowledge. “It does not surprise me. The boy adores you.”

You were fidgeting with your sleeve. “I know… I just didn’t think he would ever see me like that.”

He put a hand to your shoulder. “He is still just a boy, a child who seeks for guidance and safety. He found that in you. You cared for him.”

You hummed quietly, feeling a strange lump of emotion form in your throat.

Lancelot’s eyes lifted to look behind you, “Percival?”

You turned to see the boy slowly approach.

“Y/n. Can you read from the book again for us?” Squirrel timidly asked, knowing perfectly well that Ciro didn’t need you to read it out loud but he still did.

It warmed your heart, and made you wonder if the boy would ever pretend to not know how to read just to trick you into these nightly reading sessions. “Of course, I will.”

“I will come find you later.” It was a whisper to the Ash Man.

He slowly blinked in agreement and let you go to read to the children.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Squirrel’s reading was getting better, slowly but surely. You let him read parts on his own, helping him learn to pronounce the sound of the words. Ciro sometimes had to muffle a laugh at the strange noises Squirrel made with some words, but mostly he was very supportive. A knock on the door drew your eyes away from the book, Mirena walked in a moment later.

“Reading to them?” She made the observation.

“They are a very enthusiastic audience.” You smiled.

Squirrel was leaning into your side, eyes betraying the sleepiness. Ciro was under the covers of his bed and had nearly fallen asleep. Mirena held back her soft laughter at the sight of the nearly sleeping children. “You were just like them when you were little. Always trying to keep your eyes open to keep me near a little longer just before you slept.”

A pair of guilty blue eyes tried to focus on her, she looked at Squirrel knowingly. Then she looked at you and knew you would be there the whole night if those young pleading eyes worked their magic on you.

“It’s time for bed.” Her voice grew softer, immune to protests that could come.

Squirrel slowly sat upright, using your arm to push himself up. You ruffled your fingers through his hair, the fact that he let it happen meant he was too tired to be bothered by it. Mirena went to Ciro, making sure he was tucked in well.

You moved the sheets out of the way so Squirrel could get under them, he did so after kicking off his boots first. Mirena was quietly talking to Ciro a bit.

“Sleep well, my Little Squirrel.” You cooed lovingly at the boy, who couldn’t hold back a rare sweet smile.

As you got up from the bed, Squirrel caught your hand, his mouth opened but closed again after looking at Mirena and Ciro. You knelt down so he could whisper what he wished to say.

“Do you… love me?” He asked, it was barely a whisper.

All air left your lungs, words failed to form. The boy had sounded so worried, so afraid that the answer would be ‘no’. Maybe he had asked the same question to his father once, and had gotten an ill response in return. Someone had given him a ‘no’, you could just feel it.

“Of course I do.” You tapped his nose softly.

“All the time?” He wondered, because he was aware his behavior would not be so accepted by everyone.

You vowed, “Always.” while leaning in to kiss his forehead and feeling some of that wild hair tickle your nose. He sank back into his pillow, scrunching his nose.

You brought the sheets up a little higher on his form. “I believe in you, Squirrel. You’ll grow to be a fine knight that many will look up to. You’ve changed my life, you know. That day you stopped me from leaving behind Lancelot, everything changed. For the better. Thank you, for teaching me to be kind.”

“I changed your life?” Squirrel was stunned.

He had changed it all. Had you never met him, you wouldn’t have gone home again either, but you did, for him.

You took hold of his hand. “You had faith in someone when I didn’t. You changed my world.”

Squirrel offered that rare smile again. “You changed mine.”

“For the better?” You were hopeful.

He was nodding and then stared down at your fingers.

You looked to see Mirena still quietly talking to Ciro, and leaned in to whisper to Squirrel. “You are an incredible boy, Squirrel. I would be so proud with a son like you.”

He blinked slowly once, eyes wide, brows high.

“I am so proud.” It was a whisper only meant for his ears.

His eyes fell shut, a smile on his face, you brushed some stray hairs from his forehead. He peaked between his eyelids, “Goodnight…”

“Goodnight.” You echoed, then got up from his bed.

You waved at Ciro whilst bidding Mirena a good night as well, he was never good at pretending to sleep and betrayed he was peaking through his closed eyes when he waved back a little.

“Sleep well, Little Moon.” Mirena said while you kissed her cheek. She stayed into the room for a while longer, until they would fall asleep.

You left the room and had not even walked through half the hallway when Ser Florent came into your direction with a woman at his side.

“Forgive me for this late interruption, I had hoped to introduce you to my beloved Colette.” He moved her a few steps closer for she was too shy to do so herself. Her form was frail and thin, freckles were sprinkled across her face like stars and her red hair went far below her shoulders. She was beautiful and he couldn’t stop looking at her.

“Hello.” She looked like she wanted to hide into her cloak.

You held a hand out for her to shake. “Hello, it’s so lovely to finally meet you. I’m y/n, Ser Florent speaks of you so highly, I was hoping he would introduce us.”

Her grey wide eyes looked up at the knight who was more than a foot taller than her, “You spoke of me?”

“All the time.” You blurted out and saw Ser Florent’s face flush.

She shook your hand, breaking through some of that timidness. “I am glad that I can personally thank you for helping my grandmother the night of the fire. She says she felt no pain at all after you healed her burns.”

Most of the time, people didn’t say ‘thank you’, you didn’t expect it of them but it was still nice to hear it from time to time. “Good to hear. There was so much chaos that night, I always worry whether or not I’ve done enough to help. So it’s good to know that it did help.”

She held your hand in her own for a beat. “The gift of the Dawn Folk is yours to have, and you chose to share it with others. We are all grateful for it.”

Colette let go and hooked her arm around Ser Florent’s. This woman was everything the knight had mentioned her to be, they made an excellent pair.

“You promised to show me your horse.” Colette told him.

He cleared his throat. “Of course, my darling.” The knight held her close. “Have a good evening, Lady of Dawn.”

You gave a polite nod and moved to let them pass.

Ser Florent stopped and turned to you ever so slightly. “The Ash Man is in the library, if you were to be looking for him.”

The curving of your mouth betrayed you. “Thank you. I wish the two of you a good evening as well.”

Colette waved a little as Ser Florent guided her along.

~~~♡~~~♡~~~♧~~~♡~~~♡~~~

Lancelot appeared a little surprised to see you waltz into the library, the place was dimly lit by candlelight.

“Ser Florent mentioned you were here.” You explained how you had found him, “He

introduced me to Colette, his lady love.”

He leaned back on the chair, fingers tapping the open book. “I met her as well earlier. She is well-spoken, but quiet.”

You hummed in agreement, arching a brow it him. “So are you, you know.”

He couldn’t deny it, if it was not necessary to speak then he preferred to be quiet, unless it was among the people he trusted. You came closer and put a hand on his shoulder.

His gaze trailed from your hand, up your arm, to your face. “This evening, Helio spoke to me about my responsibilities as a knight. I was able to bring up any questions and concerns I had.”

“What sort of concerns?” You wondered.

He rested his hand on the one you had on his shoulder. “What it meant. What was expected of me…”

It were valid questions. Starting with a clear communication would help things along much easier.

“If knights could wed.” Another example tumbled out of him, his gaze fell to the floor.

You saw him brush a finger over his chin nervously, “Why did you ask?”

His eyes lifted to meet yours, voice quiet, “Because I am asking.”

He held your gaze with his own, squeezing your hand and holding it on his shoulder.

Words and thoughts were gone, leaving only the shell of your body in the library. Your fingers touched his chin, then you knelt down next to the chair, resting your hands on his own. “I don’t know what to say. I’m not sure if I am ready.”

It hurt to hurt him. But you did not want to lie to him, not about this, this was a big decision to make. He did not look surprised by the answer.

When your eyes fell away, he curled a finger under your chin and made you look at him again. “I know. I want you to know that I will wait for you, forever if I must. I consider you mine, even without us sharing vows.”

A smile threatened to form, “Yours?”

There was no regret in him over saying it. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb and repeated it, his voice low, “Mine.”

“You’re not disappointed that I have no answer for you yet?” It would be understandable.

“No.” He sounded genuine.

The sound of raindrops began to tick against the window of the library. He kept stroking along your neck, never once showing a sign of disappointment. Your head came to rest on his knee, a silence filled the place, one that was needed to let your thoughts battle themselves. The caressing of his fingers continued, granting a pleasant ticklish sensation on the skin of your temple as his index brushed along it. After enjoying this bliss bestowed, you slowly rose to your feet. Your eyes fell on the book, still open on the table.

“What are you reading?” You asked, whilst plopping down into his lap without shame or warning. Hearing him choke on a breath made you hide a smirk.

It took him a moment to answer, his hand clenched into a fist at your hip, “A book.”

Poor Ash Man, it had to be a bit rattling for him still.

“A book?” You cooed innocently. “Is it better than the scriptures?”

It was evident that you were directing the conversation to something else. He did not mind, there was no haste.

He didn’t know where to place his hands, timidly replying, “It is.”

You re-positioned a little to get more comfortable, there was a little jolt that went through him but he said nothing of it and neither did you. After skimming through the pages for a while, you began to read at the page he had stopped at. You even held it closer and a little to the side so he could read along if he’d wanted to. “This is not bad.”

He hummed agreeing, long forgotten what that book was about, too distracted by the warmth radiating onto his lap.

At some point his hand had taken place on your thigh, you hadn’t even noticed until you turned another page. You looked back at a couple of mischief filled blue eyes peeking up through his lashes. Your attention went back to the book, but your hand sneaked into the hood of his cloak. You were absentmindedly scratching softly at the nape of his neck, playing with the strands of hair that escaped the bun. That lasted for a while, until he readjusted on the chair and moved you closer by the waist.

“If this book is better, then I wonder how bad those scriptures were.” You kept reading.

He chuckled quietly at the remark, and put his head against the back of your shoulder, not caring that the leather of your bodice prevented you from feeling him kiss the spot. He shared some of his inner thoughts that amused him, “The girl who wanted me dead is sitting on my lap…”

That first day, just after he had taken you from the dungeon, you had gotten close to driving a sword into him. It was strange to think back to it, even for him. He was nudging the side of your neck with his nose like a whelp, causing you to smile at his unspoken need for affection.

Your attention for the book was gone, but you pretended to keep reading whilst ‘innocently’ moving on his lap a bit. There was a noise out of him in the back of his throat, one you had only heard on certain intimate occasions. He was trying not to let it show that the friction was slowly but surely affecting him. Whilst he was trying to keep this an innocent moment, you teased him to see how long he could keep up the pretense. Any movement you made could be easily disguised as trying to sit well and not slip off his lap.

It seemed like he believed you weren’t doing it on purpose, because after moving maybe five times over the span of two minutes, he awkwardly cleared his throat. You hummed inquiringly and turned your head to look back at him. His cheeks were a bit tinted, expression bordering on slight hidden embarrassment. It was too much, this timid look suited him far too well. You leaned in and kissed him, slow and deep, hearing how his breath stuttered. Your fingers played with his hair and teased at the side of his neck. And then, you moved again.

He broke his mouth free from the kiss, very aware that he had begun to harden under the friction. His eyes locked on yours, you leaned in again and teased his bottom lip with your own before softly biting down on it.

“What are you doing?” He managed to ask, tilting his head back a little, sounding quite interested.

“Playing with you.” You murmured against his lips. And you were, this was all still so new and exploring new things was irresistible.

Playing? He was not against this sort of play.

He leaned back, kneading at your thigh with appreciation when you stole his air again. You were not to only one anymore who played. He joined in but kept you still on his lap before his trousers got any tighter on him.

The longer you kissed, the more he touched. His hand had wandered up your waist and briefly curved around a breast before it quickly settled for your waist again. You broke away just to see the flush creep upon his face, his eyes hazy and so full of desire… it was a wonder to behold and you couldn’t look away.

He tried to connect your lips again, but you brought your thumbs to his mouth, cupping his face gingerly. Your eyes studied every small detail of his face, noticing some tiny tiny freckles for the first time. His eyes that beautiful shade that reminded you of the clear skies in spring. The tear-like markings that accentuated them. The hooded eyes that kept looking up into yours. The love you felt under his gaze was indescribable. He had protected your body, your heart and your soul.

The decision was made there and then, that you weren’t going to waste time on doubting and worrying about what life would throw at you. As long as he was with you, the world could crumble and burn, and you would still find your home in his arms

“I’m going to wed you.” It was a careful whisper, you brushed a hair from his face.

His eyes changed, first surprise then to deep as the sea could be. He could hardly believe what he had heard, “Yes?”

“Yes.” You couldn’t stop touching the marks of the Ash Folk.

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

His rare boyish smile made an appearance, he cupped your neck and brought your lips to his again. His hold so firm that trying to take a breath resulted in him stealing it from your mouth again. The Ash Man’s passion soared through him, through his actions, and defeated any barriers your heart had build around itself. A gasp passed your lips when breaking free, one look at his face proved how pleased he was to be the cause of it.

You cupped his face again, thumbs back on his lips to gain some control over their tempting nature. His hot breath touched them as the smile on his face knew why you had placed them there.

“You shouldn’t be so alluring…” Your thoughts spilled out. His eyes darkened, a spark in them that only added to their allure. You kept your thumbs in place, taking the opportunity again to take in the details of him. The longer you studied him, the shyer he grew.

He tilted his head back, smiling, “Are you so charmed by me?”

Your wit returned. “Yes. You are so ‘charming’ that before we got here, you said I couldn’t possibly be a princess. How very charming you are.”

So you had not forgotten that moment after all…

He was trying not to grin at the slightly bitter tone.

You rolled your eyes, “At least Squirrel was sweet enough to compliment me after your rudeness.”

“Percival was right,” His hand stroked along your back, “You could be one. "

You hummed at his attempt to make a compliment, and glanced back at the book whilst speaking. “But I’m not, and that’s perfectly fine by me.”

He was quiet for a second. Too quiet.

“You’re right. You are not.” Lancelot agreed. “My wife will be a queen, not a princess.”

It took you a moment too long to lift your eyes off the pages of the book and look back at him bewildered. “What?”

“My father was a king among the Fey.” He fed just enough information for you to figure the rest out alone.

It was so easy to forget his heritage when he spoke of it so rarely, it had never crossed your mind that wedding him would bestow a title on you. And he was right, his parents were deceased, leaving him the heir of the Ash Folk’s crown. You almost stood up when the realization hit, but his hand landed on your lap and kept you seated. He was hushing you, an arm around your waist to bring you closer to his chest again.

“Helio wants to restore the court of the Dawn Folk. Maybe, it can have a queen after all?” He was speaking very quietly, aware of how rattled it had gotten you.

You shook your head.

He brushed a hand over your hair, down to your neck. “Someday, everything will fall into place. Someday, I will speak of my heritage and I will give you everything your heart desires.”

It sounded like he wanted you to not have a care in the world. Some would want to put their lover on a pedestal, he wanted to put a crown atop your head. “You do know, that I wouldn’t want you to be someone you do not want to be? Didn’t you say you wanted to forget what you were born as?”

He shifted a little under you. “If I make it known, that I was born from a king, it will be because I want the world to know what you will be to me. My queen.” He said, “My lover. The one who holds my heart. I want to give you everything that I can. Share everything that I have…”

There was so much kindness in him, so much good, it was so dangerous to his fragile heart that he kept guarded from others who could break it. You could tell that he was worrying too much, maybe he even feared that he had not enough to offer in a marriage. It was time to remind him that he was all you needed, not a title or a crown.

“I already have what I want.” You said it playfully. “I’m sitting on everything I desire.”

He blinked twice, then all of a sudden he looked to the side and chuckled, brushing his palm over his mouth and chin.

“What?” Had it really been that amusing for him to hear?

His cheeks were slightly red now, and he was still trying to compose himself, not meeting your eyes. You thought about what you had said, and felt your face begin to get far too hot when realizing the ambiguity in what had been said.

“I didn’t mean…” You stammered nervously, involuntarily dropping your eyes down.

He did not hold back. “You didn’t?”

Your mouth fell agape at his bluntness. “Gods! You filthy minded oaf!”

The quiet laughter broke free out of him.

“That’s not what I meant! You know that’s not what I meant! Shut it!” It was no use, he was barely holding in his loudest laughs. You groaned and waited for him to compose himself. It still took him a moment.

“Still want to wed me?” He was grinning broadly.

Nearly did you roll your eyes at him again. “I want everyone to know that you’re mine to have and to keep. So yes, I still do.”

His brow arched, not having expected to hear such a thing. His gaze dropped, his hand began to brush over your abdomen in slow circles. There was so much he wished to say. Part of him still could not believe how proud you had sounded when you had said it. Proud… to have him at your side, willing to tell everyone of the love shared between you. It was such a difference with what he was used to. Father Carden had always kept him in his shadow, but you were pulling him out from it, letting him stand beside you in the light.

You saw the quiet response he had and spoke the sultry offer, “And I would like to have you tonight. If that sounds alright to you?”

He was momentarily stupefied by the offer, then a timid smile took over. “I recall you asking for my aid.”

You leaned back playfully, he barely let it happen. “If you would be so sweet to go and grab a bucket of warm water for me, I will wait for you in my room.”

He was nodding, breathing visibly quicker. You got up from his lap, aware of the response his body had given. He cleared his throat nervously, knowing you must have noticed. To motivate, you reached down and gave his thigh a gentle squeeze, tormentingly close to his groin. A noise caught in the back of his throat, eyes darkening ever so slightly at the blatant teasing.

You leaned in and purred into his ear. “Don’t make me wait for too long.”

He was on his feet quickly, breathing unstable, body tensing as he held back from taking hold on you again. His eyes went over your form, drinking it in with a hunger that chased away any wit you could have given. He took a step closer, you took one back. He was trying to steady his breathing. Jaw tense, gaze strong, body ready to act. All of it gave away how close it had gotten him to forgetting his self-control.

“My r-room…” Your voice wavered through those two words. He gave a shallow nod, gaze constantly consuming your features.

You straightened your back, and managed to smile. “Sometimes you make me so, so nervous. And it’s always when you’re looking at me the way that you are now.”

The honesty towards him wasn’t easy, it was never simple to admit how someone could have such an influence on your being.

He would not even ask what it meant, he knew but all too well what sort of look he was aiming at you, “Do you believe I do not feel the same? When you come near me, when you sit on my lap. I never know if I can just touch you, or bring my arms around you. Part of me will always fear that I will cause you to fear me again.”

“I was never scared of you.” It came out too quickly and a little defensive.

A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth. “I shall pretend to believe it.”

You took a few steps away and towards the door. “So… that bucket?”

He followed you to the door. “Will be there for you.”

“Good Ash Man.” You praised with a grin and saw the change in his eyes. Maybe he would never admit that he loved to be praised, but his eyes couldn’t hide it.

He looked away, licking his lips to hide the reaction, then gave an inclination of the head. Such a polite gesture, one he only gave when he respected someone. It was half a miracle that you were able to leave the library without him trying to keep you close again. And with a small jump in your steps, you walked the distance to your room.

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#the weeping monk #cursed lancelot #lancelot #weeping monk x reader #cursed netflix #weeping monk #cursed #lancelot x reader #weeping monk x you #the weeping monk x reader #daniel sharman character

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