#idk follow ash or whatever :

[doom-dreaming]

every time i lose a follower its like watching those butterflies you hatched in 2nd grade finally flying away. go. be free. curate your social media experience

#ftr i'm not like. actively checking #its just whenever i'm in my settings to see what my queue is doing #or to add new filters or whatever #i Notice #also 2nd grade in this metaphor is uhhhh. probably my supernatural era #idk who's actually unfollowing or when they followed me but that Seems Accurate #sorry gang. not going back to that one #ash rambles

[aaasherr]

anyone have moisturizer recommendations for oily skin? available in the us, drugstore preferred pls

#ash talks #idk if i have any skincare girlies following me lol #rn i use the cerave daily moisturizer or whatever its called and it worked for me before but now that my skin has changed. its not liking #it now

[p0rk-guts]

Velvette if she served cunt

Design breakdown below 👇🏾(BEWARE IT'S VERY LONG)

Alright going into detail about my gripes and edits. Like Velvette but her design is just. Not good to me. None of her (main) outfit details look like they fit to me— pinstripe pants + long fur coat paired with black crop top and scene sleeves? Skull earrings? TINKERBELL HEELS????? Tell me how any of that meshes well or even makes SENSE for the social media influencer persona she's supposed to have going on. Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be clown themed... But I'm just gonna toss that idea out bc being a revered social media influencer and a clown at the same time just seems a bit oxymoronic to me, and the "clown" details aren't adding shit for me.

And don't think I forgot about her features. Pale ash grey skin and wavy hair at best. If she was supposed to be some type of creature where a nonhuman skin tone would make sense then maybe I could let it go?? But as far as I can tell she doesn't have an object or creature or animal theme like the other V's and if she does I shouldn't need to do detective work to figure it out. There is no reason for *any* of these poc characters to have grey skin, especially since they don't have any other poc features at all.

Sorry that shit gets me heated anyways. Onto my redesign. Gave her a more obviously black skin tone and textured hair bc I love a 30 inch buss down as much as the next girl but considering how there are no significant poc cast members with visibly textured hair I think she deserves to flaunt some coils if no one else will.

Ngl I'm not. A fashion girlie. Idk what's trendy idk what screams "influencer" so a lot of this was just throwing shit at the wall that I've seen around recently but it looks cute enough to me. And there was a bit of inspiration taken from Aliyahcore and ghetto fabulous fashion ❤️

If you can't tell this is shamefully inspired by lovesart23's Velvette reimagining because imo they had some outstanding ideas for Vel. I low-key stole their idea for those floating eyes in her hair that follow her around and help her keep tabs on shit it was just a superb idea for a social media overlord to me. I also took some inspo from @furbtasticworksofart 's redesign because vampire influencer sucking up the souls of her followers in exchange for content??? Too good (also the eyes were supposed to have bat/vamp wings I just forgot 😭) So yeah she's a vampire demon now. Without the features she was looking too human anyhow. Maybe she also feeds off of the energy of her followers through tech like after Vox mind controls them or whatever... Idk idk is that anything

Speaking of Vox, the screen glasses are meant to connect her to him w/ their color and shape while serving the purpose of being like a second phone she can post and check the web with. Like lovesart said in their reimagining vid, Vel doesn't really do more than pose for selfies and scroll on her phone when it comes to social media so in my head she's constantly flipping her shades on and off, using them to scroll and stay active, and they can show when she's not paying attention or respect to something/someone bc scrolling is more worth her time in the moment.

The hearts everywhere are also supposed to kinda represent social media likes + connect her back to Val w/ his heart patterns. That might've been what the hearts in her og design were for but. I just didn't like their placement bc I'm a nitpicker and a hater❕

I have so much more I could say about possible ideas for Velvette because I love evil black girls and I only want them to succeed in my media and I could treat her so much BETTER but I'll refrain bc this is way too long anyway.

Alright for reading/scrolling through all that rambling I offer you the sketches + some alt hair ideas I had

P.S. I'm very open to constructive criticism but if I see anyone just dick riding in my replies or rb's I'm just blocking you on sight ✌🏾

#hazbin hotel #velvette #velvette hazbin hotel #velvette redesign #hazbin hotel redesign #my art #digital art #character design

[jarofstyles]

Can we have another breeding blurb miss jars? Please please pleaseeee

Hm. Yes you may because you asked nicely 😚

Patreon

Fair warning this is pure filth! straight up.. idk what just possessed me

——-

“Just lay there.” He grunted, watching in awe as his cock stretched the puffy lips of her slick cunt open, the thickness of him making her shiver slightly. “And let me fuck my cum into you.”

He had already given her his load, but that wasn’t enough. No, he had to make sure it stayed there. “Let Daddy help it stick. Let me get it deep.” He was so deep Y/N could feel it in her stomach, but she wasn’t about to complain.” Such a cute, messy little pussy…” he cooed, thumb brushing the swollen clit that buzzed with sensitivity. At her whine, her hips bucked up and pushed his cock further in making the pair inhale sharply. “Oh, she’s sensitive, hm? Only came one time f’me.” He clicked his tongue. “Still achy from last night?”

Harry was a man on a mission when it came to getting Y/N pregnant. Every day, he was following the tips from books and online forums, obsessed with getting her as slick and filthy and full of his spunk as often as he could. As soon as she had uttered the sentence about ‘being ready to try for a little one’, he had been on her. Mounting her like he was in heat, insistent on trying every possible thing.

Including this. The filthy, erotic, nasty act of fucking his cum into her. Pumping his hips and burying his prick all the way inside, the slick squelch of their wet skin filling the air. Something about it made him a man possessed. His body was thrumming, balls emptied inside of her but still rearing to go.

And his love, she was so good. His best girl, laying there and whining as her watery eyes looked up at him. Almost dumb, as she always seemed to be in awe every time he filled her up, brain reduced to ash as soon as she could feel the creamy cum being worked back inside of her. All she could focus on was being good for him, helping him get her pregnant.

“D’you think it’s catching?” She slurred, messy halo of hair tangled around her head as he held her legs up against his shoulders. He sat on his knees, watching his creamy length slip back inside of her methodically. “I want a baby. I really want a baby, Daddy.” She pleaded, tightening up around him as he filled her back to the brim.

“M’working on it, sweetheart.” He crooned, eyes dark and hot as he glanced at her face before going back to his objective. “Just shut up and let me work. Tryin’ to make you a mama, and I can’t do that if y’keep running that pretty mouth.” He scolded. The tight heat of her cunt was milking every single drop of cum into her, the daily occurrence never getting old for him. He was obsessed with it, watching the mess he made and the slight froth from how wet she got and the mix of their cum. She was a bit of a cumslut and would want to keep it in her for a bit. “Should get you a proper plug to keep you full. Hm? Think M’gonna do it.” He mumbled. “My pussy anyways, isn’t it? I can do whatever I want to it and you’ll just cry for my cum. My sweet little baby.” Harry loved her so much, but there was a special type of love that came when they got dirty like this. Intimate.

She was a good girl, deciding to stay quiet but nodding insistently. Of course she would do it. His Love did anything he asked if it led to this- just like he did for her. He could feel the messy mix start to drip down his balls, the sac wet and slightly sticky as it lazily thumped against her ass. The pulsing slowed, but he was using her hole to empty every drop. “Don’t worry, baby. As soon as you’re pregnant, I’ll let you swallow it again. Know how much you love it, but I can’t waste a single drop when m’trying to get you full of our baby.” He smoothed her hair back, looking at her sweaty face with tenderness. “My perfect girl.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry blurb #harry blurbs #harry styles oneshots #harry styles breeding #harry styles breeding kink #harry styles flufff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfictions

[wynsummers]

i've been thinking about the whole "friction in his jeans" thing a lot lately, and while it is certainly one of the more iconic instances of the lyric in the CD booklet being different from the actual song, it is far from the only one. on top of that, there are quite a few lyrics that play with double meanings that only become clear when they're written out.

so, i present a collection of every lyric in the fob CD booklets that differ from the final version, punctuation and double meanings that aren't noticeable unless the song is written out, and any other interesting details i find in the process, or a really long post of me cornplating about fob:

disclaimer that if the difference is small enough/doesn't change the meaning of the line i won't include it because that would take me years (for example, the book says "light that smoke for giving up on me" and patrick says "yeah, one for giving up on me" but literally who cares that changes nothing. everything i include here is relevant, i think)

follow-up disclaimer that there are a bunch of fucking typos in every single one of these books because these boys never proofread anything but unless i think it's significant in some way i probably will skip it

TAKE THIS TO YOUR GRAVE:

tell that mick:

"I hope you choke on those words, that kiss, that bottle - I confess / now ash yourself out on the insides, when I said I loved you I swear I lied"

grand theft autumn:

"someday i'll appreciate in value, get off my ass and call you... but for the meantime i'll sport my brand new fashion of waking up with my clothes on at 4:00 in the afternoon"

saturday:

"pete and i said goodbye to astoria with promise and precision and mess of youthful innocence"

(most of these are just silly but this one fucking hurts)

sending postcards:

"fake it like you matter - cause that's the biggest secret you have to keep"

chicago is so two years ago:

"that means that I believed every single lie you said (and learned from the best)"

"cause every pain of glass that your pebbles tap negates the pains i went through to avoid you / and every little pat on the shoulder for attention fails to mention i still hate you" (pain of glass instead of pane of glass - i think this is supposed to be a parallel. that or pete just misspelled pane)

patron saint:

"I'm holding out and I'm holding on to every letter and every grudge"

*flashes forward 20 years to hmlag*

anyway

FROM UNDER THE CORK TREE:

our lawyer made us change the name of this song so we wouldn't get sued:

"we're good friends only when you're on your knees"

sugar:

the icon, the legend

"don't mind me, i'm watching you two from the closet wishing to be the friction in his jeans" 🎉🏳️‍🌈

dark alley:

"joke me something awful just like kisses on the necks of 'just friends'"

"I'm hopelessly hopeful that you're just hopeless enough"

champagne for my real friends, real pain for my shrimp friends:

"you steer away in a rearview mirror, make my head swim"

i slept with someone in fob:

"someone old, no one new / always borrowed, always you"

THIS ONE!! THIS FUCKING ONE [CAR CRASH] [SIRENS]

ahem. anyway

sixteen candles:

"i confess, i'm just messed up / dropping 'i'm sorrys' like you're still around"

XO:

"to hands"

(that's it. no "between legs, and whatever it takes" just hands. just fuckin. to hands)

"to hotel stares/stairs" (wordplay!! to clarify it literally says "stares/stairs" in the book)

"choose awe or sympathy"

also in the last verse it says 'to the "love"' with the quotes which is just kinda funny

INFINITY ON HIGH:

this ain't a scene:

"crashing not like hips or hearts"

i'm like a lawyer:

"i only keep myself this sick in the head cause i know how the words get you (off)"

"collect the bad habits that you couldn't bare to keep" (idk this one might just be a typo)

hum hallelujah:

similarly, this might also be a typo, but "versus" is spelled "verses"

(after) life:

ok. ok. hear me out. this is the cornplatiest i have ever been. but on genius it says "death's in a double bed"

and on the lyric book it says "deaths in a double bed"

that changes everything!!! (not really, i know) it's not death as a concept or figure or whatever it's deaths. as in multiple people dying. aaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuaaaaaaaughhhhhhhhhhh

moving on

carpal tunnel:

"we take the sip from life's lush lips"

the line "we might've started singing just a little soon" isn't listed, it's just the goodbye line twice

"but i'm just tired yawns for fawns"

you're crashing:

"the cause, the kid, the charm, and the curse"

ginasfs:

"lips pressed this close to mine"

"but the prince of this failing empire knows" (hhhnnnggggggghhh)

"i've already given up on myself once but the third time is the charm" that's not how numbers work pete <3

"just kind of figured on not figuring myself out"

FOLIE A DEUX:

folie a deux doesn't have a lyric book. just portraits of the boys with empty white pages that have their names written on them. my poor beautiful masterpiece

BELIEVERS NEVER DIE VOL. 1:

fnowae:

not a lyric but for some reason the whole fuckin song is in quotes

SAVE ROCK AND ROLL:

the phoenix:

another punctuation thing but instead of "hope to die" it's "hope-to-dies"

"you're wearing our vintage misery"

alone together:

"my heart is like a stallion, they love it more when it's broke in" instead of "broken" (i love double meanings!! i love wordplay!! i love pete wentz!!)

where did the party go:

"i will appear to you if you make yourself shake fast enough"

the mighty fall:

the lyric book straight up doesn't have big sean's part 💔

rat a tat:

at the end there's this "talk less / mean more / let's be electric / like we were before" that i have literally never heard so i'm assuming it's a neat little cut lyric

save rock and roll:

"i will save the songs / the songs we're singing"

AMERICAN BEAUTY / AMERICAN PSYCHO:

irresistible:

"coming in announced" this one. this one's just a typo. come on boys it's been 12 years at this point read the books more than once

"i just dragged my nails on the tile / i just follow your scent" ?? idk

"this will not be a battle"

ab/ap:

for some fucking reason it just says "she's an american beauty" three times at the start of the song 😭

"and as we're drifting off to sleep" isn't in there, it just says "and all those dirty thoughts of me, they were never yours to keep"

the kids aren't alright:

indulge me once more, reader. i am cornplating again

instead of "former heroes who quit too late and just wanna fill up their trophy case again" it's "wanted to" do you understand why that makes me insane

also they have it as "will put your curse in reverse" instead of "we" which could be a typo but could also be a neat little change

uma thurman:

"you cut me deep like uma thurman"

jet pack blues:

"i'm the kind that can turn june to september / the last one that you'll ever remember"

"between these two white highway signs"

immortals:

"i try to picture you without me but i can't"

M A N I A:

hold me tight or don't:

the line "i'm pretty sure that this isn't how our story ends" isn't included

wilson:

"i know it's just a number but to me you're the 8th wonder"

sunshine riptide:

they didn't include any of burna boy's lines 😒

SO MUCH (FOR) STARDUST:

smfs doesn't have any lyric changes that i noticed, just the usual typos.

update: future emma here, upon further contemplation I have decided to add the line "I'd never go, I just want to be invited" since the first verse definitely says "I'll" (thank you sugarweregoinin and foliejpg for inspiring this revelation)

and there we have it! if you're insane patient enough to have made it until the end, thank you for reading and i hope you enjoyed! if there are any i missed/any in CDs that i don't have please let me know i find these so fascinating (if you couldn't tell). i just love getting glimpses into their writing process and seeing how the songs we know and love evolve before they get to us. i might also do a post about how spotify/genius gets a bunch of their lyrics wrong because it pisses me off but this is all for now, good day/night!

#fall out boy #fob #i can't believe i spent four hours on this #take this to your grave #from under the cork tree #infinity on high #folie a deux #save rock and roll #american beauty/american psycho #mania #so much (for) stardust #patrick stump #pete wentz #joe trohman #andy hurley

[theteasetwrites]

Don't Go Where I Can't Find You

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 9 (during six year time jump) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—fingering, grinding, sideways sex?? (idk what it's called lol), gentle sex (I think?), unprotected sex (DON'T TRY IT AT HOME), straight (?) people sex, swearing, angst ❧ Word Count: 9.5k

❧ Prompt: "Did you ever even love me?" from the Norman Reedus Whores Discord Prompt Challenge (more info here)

❧ Summary: Daryl hasn't been the same since losing Rick, and though he loves you, he needs to do what he thinks is right: try to find his friend, bring back his body, or die trying. Six months apart is too much to handle, he soon realizes, and something is calling him back home.

❧ A/N: Hiiii how y'all doin... um so like I tried to do angst, smut, and fluff all in one??? And I also tried to knock out several requests in one fell swoop. So I have sort of a bastardization of what @shariiina requested (tho they asked for a big fight and makeup sex which I don't think I quite nailed but I will definitely try do that more accurately in the future), as well as some anon requests for soft/gentle sex and also reader crying during sex. I was ALSO trying to fit in the prompt from my prompt challenge thingy that my Discord group is doing lol so there's a lot happening here. I just hope it turned out ok! I think this is a pretty sweet little story with a steamy lovemaking scene and a pinch of angst. Some cute/funny moments as well I think.

You weren’t there when the bridge fell, but you heard it, and you felt the ashes from the fire as they drifted over your face. 

Daryl had shifted past you, not answering you as you asked what was going on. He had that thousand yard stare you’d seen before. You’d seen it when he lost Merle… When he lost Beth… When he lost Denise… 

When you grabbed his face with your hands to look him in the eye, asking what on Earth had happened as tears drowned out his vision, you knew what happened. Context clues gave it away, and the ache in Michonne’s wailing as she emerged from behind Daryl, Maggie and Carol supporting her limp, writhing body. 

In your bewilderment, you felt Daryl jerk himself from your grasp, retreating somewhere inside himself you couldn’t reach, somewhere you couldn’t follow. His grief was hostile territory for you, though his heart had become a world of comfort and familiarity the past few years. 

This excursion was far more intense than what you’d seen from him before, though. Death was a fixture of everyday life for you and everyone else you knew, but Rick’s death was unprecedented. Nothing could compare to the grief in its wake, especially not for Daryl.

For as long as you could, you left him alone. The only reminder of his presence after that was the feeling of his body weight dipping on the other side of your bed. You were surprised he even tried to sleep next to you, but it was the one thing reminding you that he was there. 

Only in the morning he’d be gone, a cool, silken expanse of olive green sheets where once his body lay, sprawled out with open arms trapping you so close to his chest for hours on end, until whatever responsibility he had took him away from you. 

Now he seemed to leave on his own accord, you supposed. You weren’t sure where he’d gone during the day, but it wasn’t for lack of looking. You found yourself wandering the streets of Alexandria sometimes, in the back of your mind trying to locate a man who didn’t want to be found, but maybe he wanted you to look for him, you thought. You loved him enough to never stop looking.

Each night he slept less and less. After a while, you weren’t sure if the nights were getting colder from the changing season, or if the warmth of his body you usually relied on was getting further from you. One thing you were sure of—autumn was fading into winter, and for the first time since you found yourself in his arms, you were cold.

One morning when you woke up, you were sure he hadn’t been to bed at all the night before. His musky scent of pine and tobacco still lingered, but it was gradually becoming more faint, and your home was becoming a shell, all because he wasn’t in it.

“Daryl,” you mumbled against your pillow, then flipped over in a half-sleep state to face him where he’d be if he were there. After a month of not waking up next to him, you would’ve thought you’d grow used to it by now. You’d never get used to it, not when waking up next to him was all you had to look forward to.

The haze of sleep still deluding you, you reached out to touch him, the empty space of him. Where are you? you heard your inner voice speak. Daryl… come home. 

Your eyes fluttered open with reluctance to see he wasn’t there. Again. 

But you heard him moving downstairs, that creaking of the old floorboards underneath his feet. You felt his presence when you were awake enough to feel anything. He was home, and that was enough to get you out of bed that morning.

“Daryl?” you called out to him softly, voice still groggy from sleep. Your bare feet were cold against the hardwood floor as you tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room, where you saw Daryl’s worn grey backpack sat upon the couch, next to his crossbow.

“Daryl, are you here?”

Approaching footsteps from the kitchen preceded his appearance. He emerged with a few cans of green beans, and a tired, sleepless look upon his face.

You sighed in relief, happy that he was home instead of wherever he went to be alone. Your smile faded when you realized how exhausted he looked, and how red the whites of his eyes were. 

You hadn’t been able to touch him in weeks, so when you took the cans out of his hands to place them on a nearby table, he seemed almost startled by your movement.

“You need sleep,” you said, tentatively coming closer and closer until you could rest your hands on his chest, gently moving them up and down against the scratchy fabric of his wool poncho. “Let’s lay down. You’re exhausted.”

His tenseness seemed to loosen under your touch, but his glassy eyes portrayed a different story. Something was off, something more than just grief.

“Sweetheart,” you said, while raising a hand to pin the unruly hairs behind his ears, “what’s wrong?”

He huffed, then removed your hands before turning to pick up the cans. “I’m leavin’,” he grumbled, his back turned towards you.

He moved to the couch to stuff the canned beans inside his pack, then zipped and buckled it tight. Next, he turned to the hallway, retrieving his quiver of bolts he usually used on trips outside the walls. 

You didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t have any reason to go out there. As far as you were concerned, his mental health needed to recover from the loss of his best friend, his brother, before he could even think about going out there. Still, maybe it was what he needed, and maybe when he’d come back in a few days like he always did, he’d be more like himself. Maybe it was what he needed to heal.

“When will you be back?” you asked, as you always did. 

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze, but not before he made incidental eye contact with you. You looked so innocent, so unaware of what he had planned. He couldn’t hide from it now. Weeks of milling over it in his addled brain had finally accumulated to this moment—telling you, the person he loved more than anything, that he didn’t know when he was coming back. He wasn’t even entirely sure where he was going. 

“I was going to make that casserole you like for dinner,” you added. It was better than the silence. “But I’ll wait till you get back. Unless you’re coming back tonight?”

He shook his head. “Don’t wait for me.”

“I’ll always wait for you,” you said, with a soft laugh under your breath. “Just tell me when and I’ll save it for when you come home.”

He went silent again, opting to arm himself with his various knives and utility belts instead of answering you. 

It wasn’t like him at all to ignore you, to avoid your touch, to avert his gaze. Maybe when you first met him three or four years ago, but not now. Not after two years of the greatest kind of intimacy two people could share with one another. 

You tested the waters, coming closer to touch him and see if he’d recoil again. Your hands held his, disrupting him from looping his belt. A small smile spread across your face, and though part of it was forced, all of it was born out of love for him. He’d told you before that your smile could fix everything for him, so you hoped he meant it.

“Hey,” you said. “I love you, Tarzan.”

The corner of his lip quirked ever so slightly, but something held him back from returning your smile, even if you called him that little moniker you gave him years ago, to reflect the “wild man” he seemed to be. He always felt more at home in the wilderness, it seemed.

What you expected was for him to return the sentiment, to call you “Jane” as he usually did. He only chewed his bottom lip, and watched your hands as they fit perfectly in his.

He only shook his head, a gesture so foreign to you in this circumstance. He should’ve smiled, held your hands tighter, kiss you… Not loosen himself from your grasp, not take his undying warmth away as he stepped backwards, away from you.

Of course, it was hard to react that way. It wasn’t his instinct, and a part of you knew it, but it still hurt. He didn’t want to say what he was about to, or to do what he was about to do, but he had to. At least, he convinced himself that he had to. 

“I’m goin’ away,” he said. 

“I know.”

“No,” he replied. “I’m goin’ away, and I ain’t comin’ back till I find Rick.”

You stepped back subconsciously, so much so that you couldn’t feel the back of your legs hit the couch. Gravity forced you to sit on the edge, somewhere between disbelief and confusion. None of those words made any sense together, in that order in which he spoke them. It must’ve been an illusion, some trick of the mind orchestrated by the debilitating loneliness that had settled in your heart. To make matters worse, you feared this was just the beginning. 

You tried to make sense of it, in a way that allowed the sense of it to become something else—something you could grasp. “Rick’s gone,” you said quietly. “How are you going to find him if he’s gone?”

He shook his head, as if he didn’t know the answer to that himself. He truly didn’t. “I’m gonna find him, dead or alive.”

“Alive?” you asked in bewilderment. “You… You think he’s alive?”

“Never found a body… Blast of the explosion coulda blown him somewhere nearby.”

“Daryl,” you said, “that’s…” Your words failed you then, as they often did when emotions took over. You couldn’t help it—you loved him, and Daryl never lied. If he said he wasn’t coming back, he wasn’t coming back. “You can’t leave.”

“I gotta.”

The lump in your throat was becoming impossible to swallow, and tried as you might, you couldn’t keep your voice from cracking under the pressure. Tears would soon follow, you were certain of it. Still, you were trying to delude yourself, to interpret Daryl’s straightforward words into something that didn’t tear you apart from the inside out.

“But you’ll be back soon,” you said, looking up at him with much more than just a hint of vulnerability in your face. “You’ll come back, even if you can’t find him?”

He lowered his head in silence, then finally replied: “I dunno.”

Your legs lifted you up to full height, a sudden burst of impatient energy seething through you.

“What does that mean?”

“Means I don’t know, (Y/N).”

You shook your head in bewilderment. “You can’t just leave. I mean, I understand you want to find him but… You can’t leave.”

He huffed through abnormally flared nostrils, indicating that he, too, was losing his patience. It wasn’t pure anger, though, in fact there was very little anger inside of him—it was more like dread, sorrow for the pain he would continue you putting you (and himself) through as he tried to justify his reasons for needing to leave, even though he couldn’t really think of any justifiable reason. It was irrational, impulsive, dangerous, inconsiderate… Most of all, he just wanted to get it over with; to rip off the bandage and try his best to ignore the sting.

“I ain’t tellin’ ya again,” he said, in that low, extra gravelly voice that told you he was close to a breaking point. “It’s settled.”

Your lips trembled as you tried to speak, with nothing but a barely audible whimper falling and fading into thin air. Your tears inevitably broke out, but they were muffled as you tried to maintain composure. You weren’t sure why—Daryl had seen you cry countless times, but this time was different. Maybe Daryl was leaving you because you cried so much, because you cared so much. You feared he found you pathetic or overbearing, maybe even annoying. 

Of course, no such thing was true, but irrational fears born of insecurity and self-doubt got the better of you. The strain in your face was evident.

“I, uh, I don’t wanna leave,” he said. 

“Then don’t!” you suddenly exclaimed, voice weak and faltering. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, then stepped forward tentatively as you approached him. “Or… let me go with you.”

“Nah,” he said quickly. “No way. You gotta stay here where it’s safe.”

“Daryl… I—I can’t. I need you. I love you… How could you say you’re leaving? Doesn’t what we have mean anything to you?”

You hated to ask him that, and you never would’ve unless you weren’t genuinely afraid he felt nothing for you anymore. Of course, it wasn’t that at all—it was the grief that overwhelmed him, called him to take Rick’s disappearance on his already burdened shoulders. In a sense, it had nothing to do with you, but you were the one who was going to suffer. You were the one who’d be left behind.

“You know it does,” he replied, this time voice much more firm and loud, as though he couldn’t even risk the thought of you not knowing that for sure. “This ain’t easy for me, but it’s eating me up inside. I at least gotta try.”

“Then let me help,” you begged, and somehow you’d gotten close enough to take his hands in yours. If you got desperate enough, you wouldn’t be surprised if you found yourself down on both knees before him. “Please. Just don’t leave me… Don’t—don’t go where I can’t find you.”

“Woman,” he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. He must’ve known how you melted when he called you that, how easily you could give into him. “Don’t go lookin’ for me. I need you right here.”

You squeezed your eyes shut to flood your cheeks with tears. “I need you here,” you said. “I just don’t understand how you can do this after everything.”

You stepped back, gently yanking your hands from Daryl’s grasp until you stumbled back onto the sofa. You sat there staring straight through his face, which had sunk as the grim reality of his decision came shattering down upon him.

He wasn’t sure what was worse: being away from you indefinitely, or leaving you hurt like this. 

As you held your head in your hands, you thought back to all the times Daryl had said he’d never leave you, in the same breath as the words “I love you.” Now that he was leaving you, without a return in sight unless he found Rick, you wondered if those words really meant anything.

“Did you ever even love me?” you asked sincerely. 

It wasn’t that you wanted him to prove it, or to feel guilty for what he was doing, but you genuinely didn’t know anymore, and that uncertainty terrified you. You’d built your whole life around him the last few years. You’d made sacrifices, compromises, choices that were predicated on the belief that you were going to be with him forever. Was it over now? You had a feeling Daryl didn’t even know himself, all he knew was what he thought he needed to do, and that your relationship would have to hang in the balance until he accomplished his self-assigned task.

He swallowed hard, making sure he didn’t cry when he opened his mouth to speak. “I never stopped loving you,” he said. “I never will.”

That was six months ago now.

Six months since he’d seen you, six months since he’d held you, six months since he’d heard you say, “don’t go where I can’t find you.”

He hated that he’d done just that, and he quickly realized that his decision wouldn’t ease the pain of Rick’s disappearance. 

All it did was render him lonely. Much more lonely than he’d ever felt in his life. 

Still, he gave himself a mission, a responsibility to find Rick alive or dead. There were questions that needed to be answered, and Daryl didn’t leave any stone unturned.

He went where you couldn’t find him, though you didn’t try to find him. You were convinced he didn’t want you, that there was more to his leaving than just finding Rick. He didn’t love you anymore, and you still found yourself wondering if he ever did.

Around the same time he left, though, you noticed you couldn’t find one of your blouses—the cream colored peasant blouse with lace trim and cinched waist. You hadn’t worn it in some time, since it was one of Daryl’s favorites on you, but its disappearance drove you crazy, since you couldn’t think of where it had gone to.

That blouse had lived a more interesting life in the past six months than you had, as it lay neatly folded at the bottom of Daryl’s pack, the only thing he had to remember you by. 

Perhaps he should’ve told you he took it, knowing you were rather sentimental about your clothing, but in the emotional minefield of that morning he left, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. He spoke very little that day, and he regretted not telling you everything he wanted to.

So now, sitting beside a rocky creek in the last golden light of the late spring afternoon, only the gentle sound of trickling water and birds chirping sweetly in the trees, he thought of you.

He always thought of you, especially with the weather warming up, knowing how much you loved to wear your sundresses and sandals. 

You’d frolic around the house, opening the windows to let in the soft, subtle spring breeze and the twinkling sound of the wind chimes. When he was home, you’d somehow get him to lay on the couch, your body snuggled up to his as you both fell asleep to those wind chimes, on an afternoon not unlike today. 

He could practically taste the sweet and sour lemonade you squeezed fresh from the tree that had grown outside the walls, but hovered over just enough to allow ripe yellow lemons to fall on the shady grass below, waiting for you to pluck them up with a delicate hand in the safety of Alexandria.

In his hands, he held your blouse, absentmindedly caressing the fabric between his fingers. He had taken great care not to let the lifestyle he’d been living the last six months tarnish or tear the thin fabric, as he fully intended that someday he’d return it to you. 

He didn’t know when that day would come, which was why he couldn’t promise you he’d return, but for weeks, he’d felt home calling back to him. In fact, he was sure it’d been calling to him since the moment he left, but now he allowed himself to hear it, those dainty chimes on the wind, drowning out the sound of the creek before him.

He didn’t take your blouse out of his pack often. There was no way he’d risk staining it with his filthy hands, or let the well-preserved, lingering scent of your perfume wear off, but lately he found himself sitting here, not far from his camp, holding that shirt.

Did you ever even love me? The phrase rang out in his head, echoing in the empty cathedral of his mind. 

The fact you even had to question it devastated him beyond even his own comprehension. What was worse was how he left without really proving it, without actions to mirror his words. 

I never stopped loving you, he’d said. I never will. 

He’d played that scene out in his head with every possible chain of events, but nothing could stop him from remembering what he had said, and the fact that what he said simply wasn’t enough. 

Stupid, he thought to himself. I’m so fuckin’ stupid. 

Six months of searching for a missing man, and he had nothing to show for it but a few dead ends. If he hadn’t found him now, he was never going to find him. He had told himself he’d never stop looking, but something had struck him just then, when he milled over your words once more: don’t go where I can’t find you. 

If he kept looking for Rick, he’d be lost, too. It was time to go home.

He walked longer than he had in some time, long enough for day to stretch into night. The guards at the gate nearly couldn’t recognize the hero of Alexandria, face shrouded by a tattered hood and smeared with several layers of dirt and blood.

Only the crossbow on his back gave away his identity, as well as the gruffness of his voice. The gate opened for him with a familiar rattle, and quickly the routine began to settle in once again, as though he’d never left.

As his aching feet carried him towards the house he once shared with you, he found himself wondering if you were still there, or if you’d moved to a smaller home. His question was answered when he spied your muddied yellow rain boots sitting outside the front door, and your hand painted welcome stone on the front step. 

Thank goodness he’d never lost his house key—he kept it on a long string of twine so he could never not find it. 

As he turned the key and pushed open the door, he was overwhelmed with the scent of something he vaguely remembered coming from the kitchen, where the oven was still warm from dinner that evening.

Hunger overwhelmed him, and made him instinctively head to the fridge, where a recognizable casserole dish was sitting on the top shelf, still warm.

He didn’t notice he let out an audible grunt of hunger before he bent over to pull the dish out and set it on the counter. Peeling back the tin foil, a smattering of potatoes, cheese, garlic, and probably a myriad of other spices and vegetables you’d thrown together, greeted him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cheese, or anything moderately tasty, but it must’ve been before he left, certainly it was something you had made. 

As he shoveled spoonfuls of lukewarm food into his mouth, he realized you had inadvertently made good on your promise: you had that casserole ready for him when he got back. 

Turning to face the clock on the wall, he narrowed his eyes to see through the darkness: 10:37 PM. 

You must’ve been asleep upstairs, and plopping himself onto that bed alongside you was just about the best possible thing he could think of right now. He trudged up the stairs, with each step careful not to wake you. He was worried about how you might react to his sudden appearance after so long away, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to see you. He couldn’t think straight enough to work out the logistics. What if you woke up before he did, and what if you were terrified of his sudden presence? Perhaps you wouldn’t even want him in your house, after so long of not seeing him. Still, there was no indication that your relationship was over when he left. He assumed it was an unspoken agreement that if and when Daryl returned, you’d pick up right where you left off. He only hoped that was a correct assumption.

Sure enough, you were asleep, without the light of the lantern by your bedside table which you used to leave on for him to return. As such, he could hardly see you, your features just barely illuminated by the cool, indigo-tinted light of the moon streaming in through the window. 

In the warmth of the night, you must’ve kicked off your blankets, as your sprawled out body was outlined only in the thin cover of the sheet. He smiled to himself, remembering how much of a restless sleeper you were, always tossing and turning so much that you’d end up tangled in the blankets, and sometimes he’d wake up with your hand dangling over his face. You were even more restless when he wasn’t there, since his arms holding you close to his body seemed to keep you from moving around too much. That, and the comfort he provided you with was enough to lull you into the deepest, most undisturbed sleep. 

As he stripped himself of his vest and shirt, he remembered how filthy he was, covered in grime and tree sap and dried walker blood. He was ashamed to admit he hadn’t had a proper shower in weeks, and if you’d been with him, you would’ve made sure he bathed at least every other day, but he’d been alone for so long, left to his own devices, and his less than sanitary habits.

But a shower sounded almost as good as sleep, so he turned towards the bathroom door, gently closing it behind him as he entered to light the lantern next to the sink. Routine—it was all coming back to him. He had tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy out there in the woods, but he quickly learned that it was nearly impossible, what with the nomadic nature of his lifestyle, moving from camp to camp, never staying in one place for too long. As much as he was used to living like that, he hated it. It made him feel more like an animal than a human. 

Tarzan, he remembered you calling him. Somewhere between man and beast. Right now, under the gentle stream of the warm water, as he struggled to comb his fingers through the large knots in his wild, disheveled hair, he never felt more like he was trying to regain his humanity, to wash the wilderness from his body. 

He raised his hands to rub his face vigorously under the splashing water, and proceeded to further claw at the tangled clumps of chestnut waves on his head. 

“Damnit,” he sighed under his breath. It was so much easier when you did it for him. 

Remembering the existence of shampoo and conditioner, he turned to reach for the bottle of homemade “hair stuff,” as he called it. When he removed the cap, a fragrant burst of sweet pea and lemon awakened his senses. Oh, it was just like he remembered, just like the smell of your hair. 

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled under his breath. “My girl.”

He’d missed lathering his hair with your little concoction, but even more than that, he missed the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp, and the sound of your voice so close to his ear as you asked him about his day. Maybe you’d accidentally tug on his hair a little too hard as you tried to get out the knots, but he’d never complain. Not when even the pain felt so good.

Soon his head was drenched in white bubbles and soapy lather, cleansing his mop of brown hair and removing the blood and dirt that had somehow found their way into his wavy locks. 

When he washed out the shampoo, he squeezed a hefty dollop of conditioner into his palm, and smoothed it through his less tangled hair to get the real stubborn knots out. It felt wonderful to finally be clean, but that was just his head. His body still needed tending to.

You must’ve still been getting those handmade bars of rose petal soap from the neighbors, since the sweet floral scent quickly wafted into his nostrils as he held it in his hands, rubbing it between them to make a thick lather.

As the conditioner settled in his hair, he dragged the soap languidly across his chest, paying extra attention to his underarms, which surely needed it. 

His hands trailed down with the soap to his abdomen, circling around his navel. It’d been so long since his stomach felt full. His belly protruded more than usual, too, a sight that was welcome as he looked down to see the dirt washing off of him. 

Next was, of course, his nether regions, where he’d felt an irresistible urge since the moment he saw you, even if he could hardly make out your face. He knew you were just as beautiful as ever, and that he wasn’t entirely sure how he could sleep in bed with you without getting lost in his lustful thoughts.

He could already feel the tingling sensation surge through him as he ran his soapy hand along his shaft, paying extra care to the tip and all the crevices. 

“Shit,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against the tile wall. It had been so long since he touched himself. In fact, he was sure he never really had time to do it while he was out in the wilderness, constantly in danger. 

That didn’t stop him from thinking of you, though. All those lonely nights of shallow, dreamless sleep without the softness of your body he’d gotten so accustomed to holding. Too often had he found himself reaching for empty air, or whispering your name in the haze of his exhaustion. On particularly desperate nights, he clung to your blouse, burying his head in the bundle of fabric like it was a burial shroud as he unzipped his pants to just barely touch himself over his underwear, but that was long ago, and lately he had to reserve his yearning to simple thoughts and memories, making it all so much more potent. He needed you.

Without entirely meaning to, he gripped tighter around himself as he made longer and more intentional strokes. Soon the soap in his other hand must’ve slipped from his grasp, and he leaned forward to catch himself before the sudden pleasure of his touching became too much to bear.

He flinched slightly as his forehead pressed against the cool wet tile of the shower wall, one hand outstretched above his head, the other now tugging harder and faster on his cock. 

When he became more aware of his body and its movements, he slowed his pace, opting to thumb at his tip in gentle circles as he took a deep breath. He felt the water hitting his back, heard the heavy pitter patter of droplets hitting the tile below and pooling around his feet ever so slightly. Funny how one could feel so alive, so human, in such a simple way. 

And yet, he could hardly bear to allow himself that simple, human pleasure of intimate touch. How could he do such a thing when he’d left you alone for six months? The shower could cleanse his body, but not his mind. 

Still, he allowed his fingers to trace gently along the semi-hard surface of his shaft, as once your fingers had done the same. “I love you, Tarzan,” your voice echoed in a distant memory. He nudged his forehead in small circles against the tile, as if it could ever feel like your warm, soft body, curled up against his as he held you like he always used to. Why did he ever stop? 

Always trying to find something. Always trying to save someone. Always the hero.

The longer the water ran, the more he returned to the reality of his situation, and the more he realized just how exhausted he really was.

He crept out of the bathroom slowly, careful to hold the lantern close to him so as not to wake you with its light. His sore legs seemed to carry him to the bed—his side of the bed, the one that you’d left deserted for six months, as if you knew all along this night would come, that someday he’d come back to you.

What on Earth was he thinking? He could’ve slept on the couch, he could’ve slept on the front porch, for crying out loud, but would it be so bad if he slept here, where he belonged? Weren’t you still his, anyway? Please, still be mine.

If you were awake, he’d beg you, but you weren’t awake, and he’d spent too long having one-sided conversations. He just needed sleep, or you, whichever one he could have. If it was only sleep, he would take that gladly.

Though it was tempting, he had to admit. Tempting to wake you up. Tempting to gently rub your shoulder until your eyes shot open as they always did, an old habit from living on the road. Tempting to engulf you like quicksand until your body melded with his, for the first time in so long. Tempting to rid you of that silky button-up nightshirt he immediately recognized on your body. It looked a little suffocating, a little too modest for his taste. The night was warm, stolid and heavy. Even that sheet seemed too hot, or maybe he just wanted to see your body, that pliant, supple flesh he had once held sensual dominion over. 

In your sleep, you’d finally settled into a fetal position, curled up on your side, back facing him. As he set down the lantern on the bedside table, you stirred slightly, a small, breathy whimper escaping your lips unconsciously. 

From the indirect light of the lantern, he could finally make out your features—a stinging pain rose up in his abdomen, as he’d almost forgotten how sweet you looked in your sleep. It was something out of a Renaissance painting or a pre-Raphaelite’s hazy daydream. Though he could only see your side profile from his vantage point, your lips parted so delicately as your head moved in adjustment against the softness of your pillow.

He was just about to settle into his side of the bed when he noticed a dark piece of fabric tangled between your arms as you held it close to your chest. Squinting, he lifted his knees to the bed and leaned over you to get a better look, and of course he knew what it was. It was his, after all.

Aw, sunshine, he thought, watching your fingers curl and indent the fabric of his old black t-shirt he used to sleep in on cold winter nights. He could even make out some of the holes, in the same old spots. 

Overwhelmed with love, he let himself lay down as close to you as he could without waking you, he’d hoped. His arm’s old muscle memory immediately kicked in as it draped itself gently over your side, a movement he was quick to take back when he felt your body flinch and heard your breath hitch in unison.

Sleep hadn’t quite lost its hold over you as you mumbled out something incoherent. You’d felt his empty presence before, especially when his name echoed in the atmosphere of your dreams on a nightly basis. By morning, you wouldn’t remember them, only blurry glimpses and long lost sensations. 

In your mind, you always knew that slight weight around your waist was nothing but a phantom limb, but in your heart, you’d always bring yourself to look over your shoulder at his side, where he never was. Until tonight.

When you lifted your gaze ever so slightly, you swore you saw a faint glimmer of familiar blue eyes nestled between dark strands of freshly rinsed hair, though it couldn’t be, you thought.

Still, in your transitory state between consciousness and sleep, you mumbled his name under your breath, almost unintelligibly: “Daryl…”

Though he looked much clearer than he usually did in your dreams, you were quick to dismiss the dimly lit, shadowy figure beside you as nothing more than a lovesick illusion, so you turned and buried your face in the shirt you’d been clinging to every night since Daryl left, not knowing that he was right there, only wanting to hear your voice again.

“Hey, Jane,” he said softly, then reached his hand out to touch your shoulder as you flinched yourself awake.

“Oh... my god,” you said groggily. “Daryl?”

His body didn’t give yours the chance to turn to face him. Instead, he aligned his chest snugly to your back, and tucked his arms tight around your sides until you were fully stuck in his grasp. 

Rendered silent, you shook your head in disbelief as you felt his lips hungrily latch onto your exposed neck, while his hands slid along your side in a desperate attempt to remove the sheet draping your body.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him, whether it was the sound of your voice or the feeling of the warmth radiating from your body, but all he knew was that he had no immediate desire to explain himself, or to excuse his actions, if they could ever even be excused, all he could say, repeated in breathless sweeps of his nearly tear-soaked voice, was: “I’m sorry.”

Between each apology, his lips found a new part of your skin to soak with saliva from his frantic open-mouthed kiss. 

The more you felt his lips tremble against your heated skin, the more your heartbeat thundered in your chest, and the more you couldn’t care less if he was sorry or not—six months without him, without love, made you ravenous for touch, and his touch alone. 

When your shock and relief at his presence subsided, you reached back to squeeze his hand as it grasped firmly onto the fabric of your nightshirt, nearly tearing it in his reckless desperation.

You had barely even seen his face, but you felt his body and his presence with you in the darkness of your room, so it was enough to know he was there, that he loved you enough to come back home to you. Whatever anger and confusion you had was still there, but what consumed you was the very essence of him, the only thing you’d wanted for the past six months.

“Mm, Tarzan,” you hummed sleepily, bringing his hand to your chest to cup your breast. 

You felt his chest heave against your back, and the scent of your shampoo in his hair made you smile as you bit your lip, trying to hold back the happy tears and save them for later. 

His hand squeezed your breast gently, but just enough to elicit a deep sigh from your lips. The erection growing in his underwear was becoming unavoidable, and that hardness pressed up against your bottom made you shiver in need. Your body squirmed and writhed so much he hissed between his teeth, burying his head in the crook of your neck, where his tongue traced circles under your ear. 

Heat spread all through your body, until you were uncomfortable under the thin fabric of the sheet. With a huff, you kicked it off you, and Daryl’s hand didn’t waste a second to reach over your waist and palm at your clothed mound. You’d forgotten how strong he was—the pressure of his heavy hand pulled you even closer to him, and sent a small shockwave through your touch-starved body.

Both of you felt so delicate, like thin sheets of glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch. When his hand fondled you there again, you let out a sharp gasp as you reached down to hold your hand over his. “Yes…” you sighed. “Touch me… Don’t stop.”

He put more pressure on his palm as his fingers circled above your underwear, right over that sensitive little bundle of nerves he used to be so good at stimulating. His fingers were still just as good as they had once been—maybe even better from months of using them so much more than he had before. They were nimble and precise, yet somehow still heavy and bulky in shape. You’d never known such perfect fingers before, or such hands that could caress your body with the utmost love and respect. 

Even in his desperation to touch you, to make love to you, he always held you like he could wait an eternity for you if he needed to—there was never any rush to his love, it was always slow and sweet, tender and soft. If you stopped him now, told him to get out of your house and to never see you again, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d respect your displeasure with him and his absence, but you didn’t pull away. Maybe a part of you wanted to, wanted to torture him and put him through the same pain you went through when he left, but something told you that he had gone through that same pain, too, that he never wanted to leave you, but he felt he had to. 

You always knew he loved you, and here he was—proving it.

As his mouth sucked on the skin of your neck, you maneuvered his hand until his fingers slipped underneath the fabric and tickled your outer lips. His hand stilled for a moment, allowing you to use it to your liking. You used it to spread your lips, and encouraged his fingers to enter you slowly, all while you writhed purposefully against his palm, hitting your sensitive spot.

He groaned lowly in your ear as the feeling returned to his fingers, and he didn’t hesitate to dig deeper, two fingers curling up inside you until you whimpered in satisfaction. “Oh, God… Daryl.”

The weight of your leg being placed atop his as you tried to spread yourself out more caught him off guard, and his fingers dug deeper, sending you writhing and whimpering from the pressure. He felt your tightness squeezing all around his thick fingers, soaking them as you became more aroused.

“Don’t remember you bein’ this tight, sunshine,” he whispered into your ear between kisses. “You’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

“Mm, put it in me,” you said, voice strained as your core rutted against his hand to increase the pressure. You bent the knee of your outstretched leg and grounded your foot on the bed, stretching your entrance as much as you could. “It’s been so long.”

He grunted in agreement as he pulled out his fingers to raise them to your clit once more, circling it in slow, rhythmic motions. 

“I ain’t never stopped thinkin’ of you,” he said. “I missed you… God, I missed you, woman.”

You smiled and reached down to tug off your panties, while he moved to yank himself free from his own underwear. 

Quickly you found yourself reaching back to grasp his hard shaft, pulling it to your folds where you pressed his tip to your clit. His chin pressed firmly to your shoulder, he watched you stroke his cock against your slit, which you dragged back and forth along his now aching shaft.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your neck. “I ain’t gonna last long.”

“Me neither.”

His hips jutted forward and backward, gently rocking himself against you. Each movement hit your clit and forced a heavenly sigh from your lips. Daryl had tried with all the mental fortitude he had to recreate that sound in his head, but your voice was like honey, coated in sugar crystals and dripping from your succulent lips. He hadn’t known sweetness like you and your body for so long, and he knew with every surge of tingles that ran through him that he couldn’t keep himself from his release for too long. 

You gasped when his cock entered you slowly, breaching your entrance and burying itself in your tightness. Now you could feel just how incredibly close you were to bliss—only a handful more minutes of touching and penetrating would relieve you of your need.

“Oh, God!” you cried out in a gasp. “I—I… Oh…”

You felt his cock remain still inside of you as he caught his breath, trying to pace himself. His hand massaged your breast with tender, circular movements, comforting you. 

You bit your lip and shut your eyes tight as you writhed gently to feel more of the pressure of his tip on that tingly spot inside you.

“You all right?” he asked. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine… I think I just… forgot how big you are.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked with a smile, slightly more cocky than his usual one-sided smirk. He slowly pushed himself deeper, his cock curving more and more inside of you. The warm, confining walls of your body clenched around him on their own accord as they adjusted to his sizable thickness. Your body had been so used to it before, but now it was almost foreign, like your first time all over again.

“So… tight,” he grumbled against your shoulder. Letting go of your breast, he snaked his hand down to your clit, moving his fingers with increasingly fast pace. “Want you to come on me… Want ya to get this cock all soakin’ wet… like a good girl.”

You giggled under your breath. After all this time, you’d still never get used to Daryl’s dirty talk, but you loved it—the way his gruff, scratchy southern drawl made those sinful words sound so sweet and nearly angelic, yet with a deep, growling animalism in the pit of his stomach.

“Mm, don’t stop,” you sighed. “I’ll… come for you.”

“You better.”

His hand applied more pressure to your outside as his cock buried deeper inside you, going all the way until his hilt hit your bottom. You stretched your leg further behind him, allowing more room for the girth of his cock, though still you were so constrained around him, a feeling that had him gasping for air between heavy, breathless breaths.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel so good.”

He moved as rhythmically as he could as he lay on his side, with your leg wrapped behind him and your bottom on his lower abdomen, causing him to strain. His feet anchored him, allowing his hips to thrust in steady, consistent movements. There was just enough pressure on you, just enough to get those shockwaves of bliss pumping through you as he got you closer to letting go.

The more he penetrated you, the more your body soaked him in arousal, allowing more comfort for your orgasm to soon take over. As his hand applied more pressure, you grinded yourself against his palm in a desperate attempt to get more of that sweet tingly feeling.

“Easy, girl,” he whispered in your ear. “It’s all right… I got ya… Your man’s got you. I’m home.”

“Daryl…” you whimpered shakily. “Oh, Daryl… Don’t you… ever leave me again.”

“I won’t. I got you, sunshine. Let me make you feel good, just like I used to.”

Even he was starting to crumble the closer you got to relief, and as he pleasured you, inside and out, you shut your eyes tight and felt the incoming surge of pleasure about to send shockwaves through you. Still, you weren’t quite there, and the agony of wanting that sweet feeling to send your body into unrestrained convulsions was so potent that you couldn’t stand it anymore. Your sensitive, supple body couldn’t stand it anymore.

Tears began to roll down your cheek, seeping out from between the tightly closed lids of your eyes and falling into the corners of your lips until the taste of salt melted onto your tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out, tears breaking your voice. “I need…”

“What do ya need?”

“I need to… to come.”

“You will.”

His hand gripped your mound hard and hit harder at your clit, sending you into a whimpering state of frantic writhing and panting. “Please…” 

“I’m here… I got ya.”

The glass shattered when you least expected it, but it was so mind-numbingly good that you flung your head back onto his shoulder, while your body writhed and rocked back and forth in pleasure as each wave of bliss surged through you. “Yes!” you cried out. “Oh, yes… Oh, God…”

He held still inside of you as your walls clenched and squeezed around his aching cock, swollen and just about ready to burst inside you. Each pulse has him groaning against your scalp, where he’d buried his face in your hair. “Shit,” he groaned. “You’re gonna make me come, too.”

As your high subsided, you unfurled your leg and rolled more completely onto your side, careful not to let his cock go. He clung to you, his arms around your abdomen as he refused to release you from his grasp. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t leave again—he knew that from the moment he decided to come back home. 

Without a word, he thrusted deep inside of you, moving at a more desperate pace. He kept his arms hugging around you, with his hand placed firmly on your stomach, where he felt his body meeting yours.

“I love you,” he panted in your ear. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Daryl… Come inside me.”

He groaned just at the thought—the thought of filling you in the most sensual, intimate way possible, and watching it all trickle out, the proof of his love for you.

One more deep thrust and he felt the final pulse trail down his shaft, into the tip, and out into you, his moans and “ah’s” of relief sinking into your shoulder as his teeth dug a small imprint. 

Your sigh of pleasure broke out into a breathy, delirious laugh, the feeling of his spend tickling you from the inside and heating you up with its warmth. He held you close by your waist as his hips kept thrusting, eager to drain every last drop inside of you. 

He must’ve had so much built up inside of him, so much pent up need for release—his explosion never seemed to end. He was writhing against you, dragging heavy, open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck. 

“Mm,” you sighed, rubbing your stomach as if you’d just eaten the best meal of your life. “You still got it, Tarzan.”

He blushed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “Ain’t nothin’ without you, Jane.”

You turned your head till your lips met his, for the first time in so long. His tongue snaked languidly into your mouth, and yours did the same, until you pulled away, with your tongue circling over his lips.

You studied his face in the dimness of the dark room, and that sorrowful look in his eyes reminded you of your own sadness, the one that had left such a bitter taste in your mouth for so long. Daryl might’ve filled you up with sweetness again, but you wouldn’t forget how he left you.

“You jerk,” you said, much to his surprise. “You left me… I thought you’d never come back.”

“I—I know,” he said, tangling his hand in your hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” He trailed off, not sure what else to say. He never had a way with words, and he was hoping he’d proven it with his actions. “Shoulda never left. Shoulda stayed right here, with you.”

You shook your head and turned your body towards his, finally seeing him in full. It reminded you of long nights laying in bed together, talking endlessly until the sun came up, or until one of you fell asleep, usually you. Only now, instead of talking about the future, you spoke of the past, of the moment Daryl broke your heart, and his own, too.

You soon found your cheeks were soaked in tears, and his hand quickly moved to catch them. You’d cried so many times since he left, always wondering where he was, if he’d found Rick, if he was even alive. You yearned for his touch, for his thumb to brush away the tears and for his lips to kiss them away until there were no more tears left to cry. 

Now, he was finally here, you just weren’t sure how to deal with it. 

“I know… I know that you love me,” you said. “I know that. I just wish… I wish I would’ve wrapped myself around your ankle and made you stay.” You laughed through your tears, and he smiled, too, just a little, at the thought. “I think I loved you too much to do that… You weren’t happy. You did what you needed to do. I understand that. I mean, I didn’t like it, but I understood it.”

He shook his head. “Nah, don’t make excuses for me. You should be mad… Shoulda kicked me outta this bed.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, still tearful, but clouded now by happy tears, not sad ones. “I don’t think I could ever kick you out of bed… But I’ll tell you one thing.” You wrapped your wrists loosely around his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead touched yours. “Next time you leave like that, you might not have a warm bed, or a woman, waiting for you when you come back.”

He nodded seriously, his damp bangs tickling your nose as they fell into place. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t gotta worry about that, though. Told you, I ain’t ever leavin’ again.”

You sniffled and wiped your nose, giggling at your own emotional state. “Good. Sometimes, I felt like going out there, try to find you. Almost did once or twice. Michonne stopped me. But you know, I knew I wouldn’t be able to find you anyway.”

He sighed, the cruel sting of guilt stabbing him in the side. His chin lifted to rest on your head, as his hand moved to stroke your back, replacing your nightshirt to cover your bottom half. “You don’t belong out there,” he said. “Neither do I. I know that now. Just… had to try.”

“I know. Hero complex. I think that’s just one reason why I love you so much.”

You leaned up to kiss his forehead, nestling your nose in his scalp, where you got another good whiff of your shampoo. “Did you take a shower just for me?” you asked, slightly blushing at the idea. Of course, you knew he probably would’ve taken one anyway, but a part of you hoped that maybe, just maybe, he did it for you, knowing how much you loved him when he was clean.

He shrugged, his lips curling into a small, wry smirk. “Well, uh… Maybe. Knew you wouldn’t want me dirtying up the place.” He looked around the room, the light of the lantern behind him casting a shadow of your curved figure on the wall. Not much had changed at all since he left, other than a few of the trinkets he had brought back for you being on full display on your shared dresser. Absence really did make the heart grow even fonder, though you were always certain you couldn’t love Daryl anymore than you already did. 

It reminded him of the shirt he had seen you clinging to as you slept, and how he, too, kept one of your shirts for just the same purpose. “You sleep with my shirt every night?” he asked with a slightly mischievous raised eyebrow.

You huffed. He knew the answer to that question, you could tell. “Don’t make fun,” you said. “I missed you. You’re important to me, and… sometimes, that shirt felt like all I had left of you.”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat that formed at your words, and he knew if you said anything like that again, his heart would break into a million pieces. Not only because he had put you through this, but because he knew the feeling, too. He knew the fear that he would never see you again, the uncertainty of it all. 

“I, uh… I got your shirt, too.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Huh?”

“Well, uh…” He cleared his throat. The slight embarrassment of his sentimentality made him flustered. “Ya know, I… mighta taken that white shirt with me.” Another pang of guilt knocked the wind out of him. He had taken one of your favorite shirts, for his own benefit, what kind of man was he? “I’m sorry. I shoulda asked, or—”

You laughed and squeezed him tight, nestling your head in his shoulder to kiss the junction of his neck. “That’s so sweet,” you said, choking up once again. “Sweetheart, do you have any idea how crazy I was, tearing this place apart looking for my blouse? I thought it just… grew legs and walked out of here, never to be seen again.”

“Well, I kept it in perfect condition,” he said. “Good as new. No stains, no rips, nothin’. Like it never left.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

~

✏ Taglist

@atomicshepherdalmondpizza | @avengersbabe13 | @badfvith | @belatalbotgf | @cevans-winchester | @coldgoldmilk | @deathishereditary | @dueling-banjoes | @dxrylswalker | @green-eyedladywrites | @kulicny | @normanplusdaryl | @paigeeeloise | @phoenixblack89 | @ravenwings73 | @spideysimpossiblegirl

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

[bp-zb1fics]

Can you do "cuddles and kisses with lee jeonghyeon", i'm glad if u do something suggestive like lap sitting maybe?? thank youu!!

Ridiculous but you're mine~

pairing: leejeong x reader

genre: fluff, suggestive themes (pls see tags!)

tw/tags: flirting, kisses, making out, hand-holding, lap sitting, non-explicit/implied s*x acts, korean pet names, leejeong being the biggest simp and pretending to hate it (spoiler: he doesn't)

wc: 1592

summary: jeonghyeon values a lot of things but he’ll make an exception for you

a/n Hi anon~ I may have gotten a little carried away with the suggestive part but I hope it's somewhat similar to what you had in mind and it's not too much. Kind of played with a different format writing this fic, idk if it works or not but I am very proud of how it turned out. Any readers for this, please, please do let me know what you think and if I should add additional tags to this, ty!

Check my pinned for more fics~

Jeonghyeon wasn’t a touchy person. Not at all. No thank you.

He’ll accept skinship if he’s feeling indulgent, he’ll freely offer a hug if someone needs it but aside from that, he generally likes to keep his personal space, well personal. 

Until you, that is. 

You don’t even need to do anything. It’s a little infuriating actually. 

You look at him and his brain completely short-circuits.

__________________________________________

“Leejeong-yah~”

He really regrets letting Mun Junghyun tell you about their “leejeong, mungjung cross.” God, that was embarrassing. And it was even more embarrassing because of how cute you thought it was and how cute he thought you were and now he has the displeasure of becoming even more flustered by his own damn name.

“Hmm?”

He’s putting his socks on, getting ready to go out because you wanted sushi and god forbid Jeonghyeon doesn’t give you what you want. It’s a little chilly so he throws on the black hoodie that you like because of how soft it is. 

He reaches for his earrings and his eyes meet yours in the mirror as he looks up to put them on. Jeonghyeon nearly drops the damned earrings. 

Don’t ask him to explain why. Literally no thoughts, head empty. He’s only beginning to recover when you walk over and give him a back hug, burying your face to the fabric of the hoodie while he just stands there, frozen like the idiot he is.

“Wahh so soft.” Your voice is muffled but Jeonghyeon is desperately fighting back the blush that threatens to bloom on his cheeks.

“We should go.” He manages to get out, glad that his voice didn’t crack.

__________________________________________

You hold his hand and any rational thought is reduced to ash.

__________________________________________

As soon as you get outside, the cold hits and Jeonghyeon immediately shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket. Before he can check on you, you’re already linking your arm with his and sliding your hand into your own pocket. Seriously, how can his heart take this?

“Are you cold?”

You shake your head, bouncing up and down a little. It’s very cute and really not great for his health.

“Sushi, let’s get sushi~”

You make your way to the restaurant. Jeonghyeon can’t help but look at you, glancing around occasionally to make sure you were following the right directions but eyes always coming back to you. And he can’t help but wonder what he had done right for the universe to decide to send you his way. Someone who loved him with all his scrappy imperfections and flaws.

Suddenly a gust of cold wind tickles the back of your necks and you yelp, one hand slipping out of your pocket and into his. Jeonghyeon freezes as you wiggle your fingers between his, pressing yourself closer like you want to sink into his side.

“It’s cold.”

You say in the way of justification, not like he even needs one. For the rest of the way, you walk like that and he can only ever feel your hand in his.

__________________________________________

You pout, just a little, and whatever values he has, personal, moral, family values, all out the window.

__________________________________________

The restaurant is a sushi train. You’re directed to a booth and left alone with a tablet in case you wanted to order something that wasn’t on the train.

Jeonghyeon begins taking plates. And it was only after you had a sizable serving in front of you that he realised he took all your favourites. Really, when did he become like this? When did it become an instant serotonin boost to see your face light up like that? 

“Leejeong say ahhh~”

He mindlessly opens his mouth and lets you feed him. It’s good. Any food that’s given by you is automatically better than any other food. He’s never been one for public displays but you look at him expectantly, your bottom lip protruding ever so slightly.

It’s like he’s been hypnotised, carefully picking up a piece and feeding it to you. And no, he’ll never admit to anyone how endearing it is to watch you eat, your cheeks puffing out as you chew.

He’s a weak, weak man. And it’s all your fault, seriously it is.

__________________________________________

It’s ridiculous. 

__________________________________________

You stumble back home, bellies full. Kicking your shoes off, you tug him towards the couch and switch on that one drama you insist he watch with you. Both of you started off seated. He sits cross legged while you tuck your feet to the side, his arm resting around your shoulder.

It’s not a new drama you’re watching. No, it's one of those that you like to come back to, one of those you watch without needing to think too hard or wonder what to expect. 

Junhyeon sighs as you lean against him, comfortably pressing against his side. He watches you fondly as you mimic the dialogue on screen, the audio almost like white noise at this point. Suddenly you’re reaching up, fingers skimming feather-light across his jawline leaving little sparks in their wake.

“So handsome~” You murmur, letting your thumb ghost below his bottom lip. Jeonghyeon’s breath stutters. 

“My Leejeongie, naekko!”

He’s going to die. You’re going to kill him. Belatedly, he realises that you’re just imitating the drama. Still, his stupid heart is ready to pound its way out of his chest. Before he can think twice, he gently grabs your hand in his and presses a kiss to your knuckles. You go quiet. Before he can drop your hand, you pull yourself closer, nudging at him until you’re kneel-sitting between his thighs, his legs stretched out on the couch. 

You drop his hand in favour of resting your palms on his shoulders to balance yourself. His arms are limp by his sides. Jeonghyeon almost stops breathing as you lean forward, your noses nearly touching, trying to keep his cool. You peck the corner of his mouth. He’s an absolute goner at this point. 

For the next few minutes, he lets you litter kisses all over his face, sweet on his forehead, making his cheeks flush hot, his teeth clenching as your lips brush a trail along his jaw. You chip away at his sanity every time you bring your lips to his and pause just before they touch, leaving his mouth a little more dry every time. The last straw is when you bite playfully at his collarbones, giggling at the look of utter distress that washes over his face as you tease up his neck. By the time your lips once again ghost against the corners of his, his hands grab needily at your waist.

“Dammit aegiya, please.”

Jeonghyeon breathes out shakily and you flash him a coy little smile that does bad, bad things to his heart before you finally kiss him. 

__________________________________________

God, you’re ridiculous. 

__________________________________________

Jeonghyeon can’t stop kissing you. 

His teeth scrape slightly against your bottom lip and you gasp. Your tongue flicks out to drag across the roof of his mouth and something so good just bursts in his brain. Hands squeeze your waist again, you squeak and they stroke your sides as if to soothe, sliding down to rest on your thighs. You shift, gripping to the front of your boyfriend’s hoodie and just like that, you’re fully on his lap, straddling him.

If nothing, Jeonghyeon only gets needier.

He’s mouthing at your neck, tongue teasing mindless patterns at the places he knows are sensitive. The little noises that escape you set off tiny firecrackers in his head. Your hands clench uselessly before finding their way to his hair and tugging. Heat blooms at the pit of his stomach and he bites a little harder than he meant to. The strangled noise that it draws from you is delicious and your hips jerk forward, creating friction that has him groaning. His mind is empty, save for the thought of you, how desperate he is for you.

Fingers slip under this hoodie to fidget with the waistband of his pants, every touch against bare skin has him inhaling sharply, his eyes dark and pupils blown out, staring at you in a way that has heat coursing through your whole body. He’s become bold enough to rest his palms over your ass, slipping them into your back pockets and squeezing. Your hands go a little lower and he bites back a curse, resting his forehead on your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut. Any sense of composure is tossed aside, neither of you bothering to see where it’s gone.

It’s all shaky breathing, gasps swallowed up by lips on lips, fabric rustling and the desperate repetition of each other’s name like a plea to the universe to mould your bodies together so that you’d never be apart from each other.

Jeonghyeon’s basking in the afterglow, both of you struggling to catch your breaths. He’s as boneless as you are, languidly draping yourself on top of him, sprawling almost, limbs loose and liquid-like. You giggle and that’s when he notices the drama still playing in the background.

Hands reach for his own, and he swears he can see the stars in your eyes. You’re absolutely going to be the end of him. His heart and his mind and his body and his soul, dangling into the precipice that is you. It’s absolutely idiotic, letting himself drop in so deep, not caring about when he’ll have to hit the ground, running.

__________________________________________

And yet, he’s the one who’s ridiculous enough to fall for you, over and over and over again.

#boys planet 999 #boys planet fics #boys planet drabbles #boys planet x reader #boys planet #boys planet mnet #kpop scenarios #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #kpop fics #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #lee jeonghyeon #lee jeonghyeon x reader #lee jeonghyeon fic #lee jeonghyeon drabble #tw suggestive #suggestive

[himejoshikomaeda]

LES FOISFOIS FAVORITE SONG FROM EACH TOUHOU SOUNDTRACK

th01 highly responsive to prayers: gotta be eternal shrine maiden. angel’s legend is good, but eternal shrine maiden just has what the PC-98’s soundboard did best. little beeps and boops that somehow sound so chock-full of emotion. fantastic stuff.

th02 story of eastern wonderland: love-colored magic is, of course, legendary, but my favorite for this game is complete darkness. absolutely masterfully work with that melody.

th03 phantasmagoria of dim.dream: obligatory respects to strawberry crisis to make sure i don’t get mauled for saying this, but reincarnation is my personal favorite off this soundtrack. there isn’t really a place to note this, but the SC-8850 version of reincarnation is fucking phenomenal, too.

th04 lotus land story: blah blah blah bad apple okay no but seriously it’s maiden’s capriccio. that’s reimu’s theme. i don’t care about this mystic oriental love consultation shit, this spring path crap. maiden’s capriccio. the imperishable night version fucks hard too.

th05 mystic square: this one is really hard. romantic children rules. plastic mind is unreal. the grimoire of alice fucks. but the best one in my opinion is alice in wonderland. extra stage themes tend to be really good, but i looooooove this one.

th06 embodiment of scarlet devil: locked girl ~ the girl’s sealed room. again being a contrarian here and not picking UN owen was her. cuz. i dunno. i like it.. be nice to me.. side note, but i love how the instruments in eosd and dolls in pseudo paradise sound.. idk, out of tune? it’s nice.

th07 perfect cherry blossom: there are a lot of really good ones here but i’d be lying if i said it wasn’t necrofantasia, contrarian though i may usually be.

th08 imperishable night: i don’t knowwww this one’s too hard they’re all so good.. illusionary night ~ ghostly eyes, nostalgic blood of the east ~ old world, flight of the bamboo cutter ~ lunatic princess, and extend ash ~ person of hourai all come to mind, but honestly i think i have to give it to love-colored master spark. i know it’s not “from” this game but it’s my favorite on the soundtrack, sooooo.. whatever. my list.

th09 phantasmagoria of flower view: wind god girl. “that’s from shoot the bullet” i knowwww shut upppp i’m not doing side games.

th10 mountain of faith: faith is for the transient people, full stop. the gensokyo the gods loved is practically the “touhou theme” to me, but sanae’s theme is like. in my top 3 favorite songs in the series. those guitars kick ass. this game’s soundtrack is phenomenal.

th11 subterranean animism: green-eyed jealousy. followed closely by satori maiden ~ 3rd eye. literally every song on this game’s soundtrack is a banger. a real no-skip album. but i am fucking addicted to parsee’s theme. it’s like bitter, ugly crying as music. i can’t sing its praises enough.

th12 undefined fantastic object: this game sucks ass but the music’s good. emotional skyscraper ~ cosmic mind is the best song.

th13 ten desires: it’s shoutoku legend ~ true administrator, but i wanna give a shout-out to night sakura of dead spirits anyway, because it’s great.

th14 double dealing character: kobito of the shining needle ~ little princess. but i mean. i am kissing reverse ideology on the mouth with tongue. i love you seija i love you shimmy you’ll get ‘em next time

th15 legacy of lunatic kingdom: honestly? unforgettable, the nostalgic greenery. i love the spacey sound of this soundtrack, and none of them capture that sound better than that. the lake reflects the cleansed moonlight is good for the same reason. i have a lot of love for the sea that reflects one’s home planet, too.

th16 hidden star in four seasons: not huge on this soundtrack, but my favorite song is swim in a cherry blossom-colored sea.

th17 wily beast and weakest creature: electric heritage. what a tasty piano in this one. the gorgeous melody is also present in entrust this world to idols ~ idolatrize world, but i like the piano in electric heritage better. idolatrize world is an easy second, though.

th18 unconnected marketeers: this soundtrack is so romantic. very lovely melodies. my favorite is the perpetual snow of komakusa blossoms. it’s memorable to me for whatever reason.

th19 unfinished dream of all living ghost: i’m gonna choose to limit myself to the songs that aren’t covers of existing touhou songs, cuz some of them are pretty similar even if i might like them “more”, like corpse voyage ~ be of good cheer. so i’ll go with the deviants’ unobstructed light ~ kingdom of nothingness. the vocal samples are cool.

i’ll list my favorite songs from the doujin albums in a separate reblog, because damn this is getting long!!

#💘

[chubbyreaderchan]

you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter | Billy Hargrove x Reader

Warning: I write with a plus-sized reader in mind. Female reader. AU where Billy gets to be happy, no real plot, might need to actually come back to this but idk, I didn’t edit, and I was in my feelings for it. 

--

“What the fuck did I ever do to deserve this?” Billy asked.

His arms wrapped around her middle her head resting against his shoulder. He was dumb and a complete dickhead, he never saw what she had seen in him.  

“I say, "Can you believe it?" As we're lyin' on the couch”

“Everything,” she said softly. Her fingers danced over his hand, tracing each part of the worked flesh.

He was peaceful there, watching yet not quite paying attention to the news on the TV. It had been two years since they ran away from Hawkins, sure it was still in Indiana. But it was freedom.

Freedom from his father. Freedom from hers. No need to run and hide or sneak into bedroom windows to be with her. He just has to come home and call her name, though there were some fond memories.

A lot of firsts happened with her in his bedroom in his dad’s house. She was the first girl he’d let leave shit in his room and not immediately throw it in the trash.

“Flash forward, and we're takin' on the world together And there's a drawer of my things at your place”

“It wasn’t like you didn’t fight for me,” she teased.

Billy swallowed.

“We’re still fighting, sweetheart,” Billy replied.

“I know, I’m trying to get a manager position at the restaurant,”

Billy grunted, annoyed. He hated that she worked, sure, feminism or whatever, but he didn’t want her working. He lived for the idea of her staying at home, taking care of the house and kids or maybe some dogs. But he wasn’t done with his mechanic apprenticeship. It would be a minute before he was making good enough money for that. The thought of her taking on more hours stressed him out. He leaned forward, grabbing his pack of cigarettes and his lighter from the table. He lit the stick and took a puff blowing the smoke away from his girl.

“And we got bills to pay We got nothin' figured out”

Billy wrapped his free arm around her tighter, looking at her pretty face. She met his sleepy blue-eyed stare.

“I hate that shit,” he grumbled.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’d have dinner ready—”

“That’s not what I mean. I don’t like you working at all period,”

He flicked ash into the stolen hotel ash tray. Billy took a deep breath like she had shown him, he didn’t want to get pissed over something he couldn’t change immediately. They didn’t need to have a fight.

“Do you remember, we were sittin' there, by the water? You put your arm around me, for the first time You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter”

She leaned up and pressed a kiss into his soft lips, he kissed her back hand heavy on her spine pushing into the fiery kiss. His hands creeped up her belly in a comforting manner. He only pulled away for a breath of air, gently running his thumb on her shoulder.

“I still don’t get why you stay with me,” she said softly.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“And I remember that fight, two-thirty am 'Cause everything was slipping right out of our hands I ran out, crying, and you followed me out into the street Braced myself for the goodbye, 'Cause that's all I've ever known Then, you took me by surprise

“I’d never leave you alone,”

He pressed a kiss against her head.

#billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove x plus size reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things reader insert #fluff without plot #fluff #mild angst

[the-truth-of-nothingness]

I am Veritas Ratio, avenger of supreme knowledge.

"The Genius Society-- what a foolish ambition, indeed. Knowledge is but the root of power itself. Perhaps I do not hold particular innovative qualities nor the desire to create and nurture new life forms, but I am far more than capable of yielding the unbridled force of all things known to exist."

Veritas Ratio had always been an underachiever-- quite a strange term for somebody like him. Always soaring to the top, and yet the top was never high enough. Nobody could best him, and yet he was constantly expected to be better, to surpass even himself.

Some called him crazy, others dedicated. He was always most adept at whatever he chose to do-- and having eight successful doctorates in such a short amount of time was no easy feat. And yet, he was ever the underachiever-- never to others, but to his parents and to himself.

Years of blood, sweat, and tears and that burning desire to be noticed-- and where did that get him? Rejected from the Genius Society. As if all his research suddenly meant nothing and was reduced to ashes before his own eyes, as if he were inferior.

Oh, how they had been wrong. The truth none of those almighty "Geniuses" wanted to face was that he was superior, to such a point where they feared him.

And so the doctor decided he was not to ally himself with any faction, leaving the Intelligentsia Guild and abandoning his dream to instead follow the path of Nihility, dedicating himself to the greatest cause-- knowledge.

For all that those Geniuses could not do, Veritas would bring the sheer power of what was and is down on all who were ignorant.

Some say the Nihility changed him completely-- realigning his views and stripping away his very humanity. There are many versions of this rumour, but one thing echoes through them all...

The man he once was is no longer recognizable.

Notes from the moderator:

~ Format, moodboard and writing by @serendipminie (mod of @aventurine-official)

Notes on this version of Veritas:

Exists in the same universe as @peacocks-pantomime

Follows the path of Nihility

The same morals and ideals, but much more unhinged

He can (and does) drink blood

Very canon divergent

Basic information on the mod:

Mod is an adult

Mod uses he/they

Mod also runs @veritas-ratio-rp

UTC+1

I'm still studying, replying depends on schedule even though I'm pretty addicted to my phone

Not going to use personalized tags, might add them later but I'm honestly too lazy for tags

Not affiliated with Hoyoverse, of course

Rules:

No smut (or at least put a warning or something? Idk how does this work here), suggestive is fine (I'm honestly fine with anything, but minors can see this blog, so keep it SFW, please)

Discrimination of any kind won't be tolerated

Everyone is welcome here

Ships are fine, must be age appropriate of course

He's gay, I won't do straight ships because of personal preferences

#intro post #pinned post #hsr oc #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail oc #dr ratio #dr veritas ratio #dr ratio hsr #honkai star rail dr ratio

[coconutcordiale]

Congrats on the followers! You deserve it, you know I love your blog ❤️ How about “you’re being a brat” with jealous!Jake x reader? It doesn’t have to be jealous!Jake but he’s just so good to us! ☺️❤️

jealousy, jealousy

pairing- hangman x female!reader (no y/n)

warnings- possessive/jealous hangman, ngl jake's a bit of a caveman in this idk if a man really said some of this to me i'd end him, allusions to smut so 18+ although this is pretty tame for me

length- 1k

an- thank you babe!!!! ilysm. you know i couldn't resist jealous jake god he's so aslkejfowijoaifjs. i actually hate this and how it turned out it's incomprehensible but ily ash so i'm posting it anyways

It’s someone’s birthday. Or anniversary. Maybe they’re moving somewhere. Jake doesn’t remember. It doesn’t matter. Because he’s really, really fed up with your shit.

It all started with a dress.

Jake lives in the 21st century. He understands he has no right to tell you what to wear, has no right to comment that every guy within a twelve-block radius is going to short-circuit when they notice how high the slit of your skirt goes. He knows that.

But he can’t help that he stalls with anger every time someone stares at your legs on display in said dress.

Well, it’s more like he’s trembling with anger, but whatever.

Omaha’s twirling you around the makeshift dancefloor in a poor imitation of a two-step and Jake’s teeth are starting to hurt from how hard he’s clenching his jaw. If anyone should be two-stepping with you it’s him. Omaha isn’t even from Texas, for fuck’s sake.

It’s taking everything in Jake not to sidle up to you two and tear you out of Omaha’s arms, not to slide his hands up and under the slit of your dress like he’s wanted to since the moment you put it on.

Omaha’s hand slides a little further down your back, and Jake lets out a pained noise like someone’s just punched him. He moves to stand up, not sure how much more of this he can take but is knocked firmly back down into his stool by Rooster, his stupid mustache twitching upwards in amusement.

“Tell me you saw that,” Jake protests. Somewhere in his mind sirens are blaring, a voice shouting show everyone who she belongs to, and he just barely hangs onto his last inkling of human decency so he can tell his inner self to shut the fuck up.

Rooster, the bastard, laughs, which only makes Jake’s eye twitch more aggressively. “Let it go, man. It’s not like Omaha would ever do anything.”

Jake grumbles nonsense about slaughtering chickens under his breath but stays put and lets the other man push a new beer into his hand. His teeth are nearly ground down to nubs by the time the song ends, and you float your way over to him, making like you’re going to sit down between him and Rooster.

Before you can, a tanned arm reaches out to pull you in by the waist, not stopping until you’re standing between his legs where he’s perched on his stool.

“Having fun?” Jake asks you gruffly, trying not to get distracted by the flush on your cheeks, the quick rise and fall of your chest beneath that dress.

“So much,” you answer, a little breathless, reaching down to steal his beer for a sip.

Returning his drink, you press a kiss to his cheek, turning so you can sit next to him where you originally intended. He tightens his arm around you to keep you in place, but there’s something sharp in his movements that makes you still in confusion.

You lean back, finally taking a good look at his expression.

“Okay,” you say slowly, surprise written all over your face as you take him in. You gently take the beer from his fingers, setting it on the table behind him. “Let’s take the breakable things out of your hands.”

He rolls his eyes. It’s not like he’s actually going to break the bottle.

“What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong is you don’t realize what you look like swinging around with Omaha and it’s scraping away at his already paper-thin sanity, but Jake knows he’ll get in trouble if he says that.

“Don’t like seeing his hands all over you,” Jake grits out finally, fingers rubbing absently over your sides, trying his hardest not to grip too hard and leave possessive marks on you in front of everyone.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Who, Omaha? Come on, that was about as scandalous as dancing at cotillion.”

Jake narrows his eyes. “You didn’t see where his attention was wandering, then.”

He looks down pointedly at the slit in your dress and you follow his gaze before huffing in annoyance.

“Jake, you’re being ridiculous.”

He clenches his jaw instead of answering.

On some level, he knows you’re right. Too bad that portion of his brain is currently being beaten down by the neanderthal reigning within him.

“You like the attention,” he accuses, trying not to sound childish but missing by a mile.

There’s suddenly a wicked glint in your eyes that absolutely does not shake Jake to his core, that resolutely does not make him regret the words the moment they leave his mouth.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answer, innocent as ever, before moving to spin out of his grasp and over to Phoenix.

Fuck.

Watching you dance with Phoenix isn’t doing anything to lower Jake’s blood pressure.

It’s making it worse, actually, since Phoenix is too smart to be scared of him, so she’s letting her hands wander purposefully and shooting him diabolical looks over your shoulder.

Jake’s eye is twitching again.

No amount of convincing from Rooster could possibly keep him in his seat this time. He’s up before he even realizes he’s moving, sweeping onto the dancefloor, and pulling you into him in one swift motion.

The turmoil in his chest eases a little with you back in his arms, without anyone else touching you, but his last shred of intellect is quickly disappearing as he runs his hands down your curves, fingers dancing dangerously close to the exposed soft skin of your thigh. One look at your mischievous smirk and he wants nothing more than to wipe it off your face by getting those lips wrapped around his cock.

“You’re being a brat,” Jake mutters in your ear.

You raise an eyebrow, silent dare all over your features. “Gonna do something about that, Lieutenant?”

He scolds himself internally for how easy it is for you to wind him up, but you always know which buttons to push.

“Say your goodbyes, we’re leaving. Now.”

#hangman drabble #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman fic #500 followers celly

[bezierballad]

Maleficent (2014) but it's a Black Butler Dadbastian AU

(please bear with me I haven’t watched the film since I was in like, sixth grade lmao)

okay where to start uhhhhh

Okay right off the bat, Sebastian is Maleficent

Like, it can’t get anymore simple than that really.

He’s got the vibe (somewhat), he’s got the style (sorta), he’s got the raven/crow thing (kinda)

Just replace Maleficent’s dragon form with Sebastian’s true demon form

And the sleeping curse cast by Maleficent saying that Aurora would prick her finger on the spinning wheel when she turns sixteen and stuff?

That can also be somewhat paralleled to Sebastian’s contract to steal and consume Ciel’s soul in Black Butler canon

(Idk if that part is gonna be in this AU or not but just an observation)

ok anyway-

the role of Aurora is gonna be played by Ciel

And his false name (like how Aurora was called “Briar Rose”) would probably be whatever his real name in canon probably was

Probably something like “Sirius” or “Astre” or something. “Sirius Astre” maybe?

I talked about this AU concept with my good buddy @eemoo1o-animoo and they suggested that Ciel liked playing “lord” as a child (since he was cursed by Sebastian he was raised as a peasant by three incompetent servants–I mean, fairies.)

By the way, yes, the fairies are being played by the Phantomhive servants (Finny, Mey-Rin, and Baldroy) because there's literally no reason why they shouldn't be. It's too perfect of a role for them to not be casted in.

And so when Ciel finds Sebastian in the woods he makes him go along with it, maybe having Sebastian call him “my lord” and stuff.

I’d imagine he’d get annoyed with following his incompetent guardians’ parental orders, so he’d want to be the one giving orders for once, even if it’s just a little pretend game.

And who the prince is gonna be you may be wondering?

No one other than my girl Lizzy of course

I mean, she’s not only got a sword in canon, but she’s also engaged to him

Just like how Philip is betrothed to Aurora in the source material

(Did you hear that seb@ciel shippers? This is NOT a seb@ciel work. This is not your territory. Go away.)

This is one of those AUs that writes itself I swear to god

I still have no idea who the role of Diaval/the raven is gonna be played by

Or who's gonna be King Stefan (aka the person who chops off Maleficent/Sebastian’s wings).

Though I'm kinda leaning towards either Ash/Angela or Vincent Phantomhive.

But anyway, that’s all I have for now

#kuroshitsuji #black butler #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #our ciel phantomhive #our ciel #phantomhive servants #finnian #mey rin #baldroy #elizabeth midford #lizzy midford #cielizzy #dadbastian #maleficent #maleficent 2014 #maleficent au #black butler au #kuroshitsuji au

[rosedarkness24]

Cult Shenanigans

Lesson Number Two

Honesty and Promises

The Lamb is kind, the Lamb is forgiving, and they know the pain of having someone fail them. To see the look of hurt and anger in their most loyal follower, it brought the reality of how much responsibility they have back. Or perhaps woke them up to it. But they won't be cruel like the bishops and sacrifice them, No. Instead, they shall learn, learn to pull the strings. Their not letting this one go.

They knew it was a promise, and they planned to keep it. But for now, faith was low with the recent loss. They needed to gather strength before going back to challenge Leshy again. Meanwhile, rumors among the flock have begun to seep into fearful minds. Distrust in each other has grown to a problem, as Poppy addresses these concerns to the Lamb. Ash could be a spy.

This is beginning to annoy Lamb. For their flock to be so rude, believing them easy to fool. No. For it was them who cut the ropes to a terrified black fox. It was them who made the ground red just to have them. Ash is no spy. Ash Is Mine~

It wasn't long till the Lamb could challenge Leshy again. But this time, they weren't alone. Not trusting the flock to not spiral into choas while their gone. They bring Ash along. Giving Ash a demon form to utilize.

They didn't even realize they made it to Leshy until after they were right outside the temple. The memories came back. The panic as they had tried to dodge the wave of spikes, they had been so close to finishing off the bishop before they felt it. They were too slow, and the tail end of the wave of spikes had hooked their spine. They didn't instantly go, but it had left them completely immobilized.

Then, the familiar sound of an arrow popping off next to their ear snapped them out of it. Leshy had done transformed, and before the bishop could even get his war cry out. Ash had shot him in the face. Not like it did anything much, but the laughter that followed it definitely seemed to anger the eldritch God. That had boosted the Lamb's confidence, nice job Ash.

It was a long fight. And a lot of running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Who knew that the bishop loved jumping into the air and dive bombing you so much. But his actions were for not as the Lamb had learned his every move. He was a predictable choas. Not able to get a hit on the Lamb before they delivered the same fate he had delivered to them not so long ago.

Though their victory was left bitter as their Lord whispers through the crown, "Amdusias has turned against the faith, and stole 25 gold from the cult temple."

Sacrifical... it always comes back to haunt them. The heart still beating warm in their hands. Oh, how much they wanted to crush it, but a leader must be presentable. Even if this particular follower has been a pain in the backside more than Leshy at times.

But at least Keith's faith was won over by their victory. It seems like whatever remorse he had for Amdusias had been broken when the Lamb imprisoned the yapping bug.

I'm going to slowly diverge from the game now to add more personality to the characters. I might make a main Followers cast list. Idk. Right now, here's the next lesson.

#cotl #cotl au #cotl fanart #cult of souls #cult of the lamb #cotl lamb #cotl oc #cotl narinder #cotl amdusias #cotl follower #cotl leshy #cotl bishops #The Loyal Bell

[safely-in-vhagars-belly]

Ashes burn (Dark!Aemond x ASABFO (Asigned at birth female oc/reader) ((oc is nameless)) chapter 4: i am bad at naming chapters (will edit this later)

Aemond x fem oc/reader

Tags: Show setting, book setting, gore, dubcon and Dark!Aemond

🔷Summary: Your hometown has fallen and you become Aemond targaryen's pet.

🔷Author's note: I like to think that this Aemond and Snowfalls Aemond write each other letters to compete in who is the bigger asshole of them both, i wouldnt know. As always: This is a dark! Aemond fic. You do not find him being a unicorn here. He is not kind. He is not friendly. He does not want you to meet his mother. Go away if dark themes offend you because this fic is not for you and thats fine.

🔷Wordcount :around 6k. ( thats huge)

Warnings below the cut but god knows its dark

taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy

Warnings: Suicide, rape (but does not occur between oc/aemond ((dubcon does happen) murder, blood, stabbing, sex, p in v, oral sex (m rec. f rec.) clear insane Aemond, blood and knife kinks, murder kinks, Aemond being unworthy of air for 6k words straight. Looking on as someone gets f*cked (idk the word) and trauma and blood and gore as well as drinking.

Still here?

Awesome! lets go

You like to think of yourself as a sane, average woman with a good working head. It never failed you yet, despite whatever life had thrown at all.

Growing up a bastard was difficult enough as it is. Your new stepmother and her stepdaughters did not make that easier. Your father’s expectations about your future, did not make that easier and your ever wondering about who possibly could be your mother, did not make it easier at all.

Life has been nothing but difficult, yet you count the blessings, the lights in the dark. The smaller turnips during a famine and the raindrops in a desert. It is not much, by a long shot. Not enough to dull the pain, that is for certain. But it is enough to keep forcing yourself to set your left foot in front of the right one, to keep your head up and to keep going. 

It has to be enough.

That was until this morning, when your little sister Diandra rode off to meet the soldiers of King Aegon, second of his name, laying siege to your hometown. Diandra is aged 4 and ten yet she has the courage of a man of thirty. You followed her into the battlefield, as she was openly insulting the man leading the siege, Prince Aemond Targaryen, the one eyed prince, or the sapphire Prince, as many call him. 

Aemond executed your brother, took his eyes out, and kept you as a ‘’pet’’. He told you he would not be cold during his stay at your family’s estate, and you would be the reason for that. You have tried to sneak away, but so far Aemond has discovered your attempts and punished you mercilessly for each attempt you took.

Diandra is locked up in the dungeon, likely cold and shivering, missing her stuffed plush toy she can’t sleep without, together with your other family members. 

Aemond does not care about gold. Aemond sees them as traitors to the realm for helping Rhaenyra’s cause. He would sooner let another man take his other eye, than let traitors roam free again. He prefers killing them, you’ve seen it before when he fed the men in your father’s army to his dragon, laughing as he cut off limbs, as a little boy who was granted a present for his name day.

You never saw anything so frightful as his smile whenever he sees his prey bleed. You never heard a sound as horrible as his laugh, convinced he shares it with the Stranger himself. The same dead tone, the same hollowness and yet the illusion of softness, well spoken and gentleness. Things he does not possess. 

The feast he threw in his own name, to celebrate the conquest of your hometown, ended barely half an hour ago. Yet your servants are already cleaning up the decorations, working quickly under the watchful eye of soldiers that carry the famous golden dragon on their chest, the symbol of Aegon, Aemond’s older brother.

You are standing next to Aemond, your long yet sleeveless green gown with open back and inviting neckline all that protects you from the cold winds. He picked it out for you, not caring much if you would be cold. It was clear that he finds you attractive in this cloth, and that was all that mattered to him.

As the Prince briefly plays with his goblet, watching the red wine flow over the edge every time, you notice that the Dornish commander comes out of the shadows, approaching you both. He makes a bow for Aemond and addresses him without awaiting acknowledgement. ‘’My prince. What shall we do with the corpse of Lord Dawreyn?’’ You think back of how Aemond handed you the sword and gave you the option.

Kill your own father or watch him butcher everyone in this town. Aemond was delighted when you picked up the sword. How delighted he was then, not so long ago, in theory, so annoyed he is now. He is as fickle as a candle, dancing on the whims of the elements, of whatever bothers him. ‘’Any suggestions, Cole? I don’t have the faintest idea what to do with him.’’ He says, surprising you.

You have never known him to not have an idea for as long as you know him. You assumed he would have a wicked evil plot for your father’s corpse, but that is not true, after all. Perhaps he only pretends to be a monster. You know that your family members usually are laid to rest in the Dolkburg Crypt under the estate of your home. ‘’We have a family crypt.’’ You tell the prince, speaking gently and causing both men to look at you. ‘’It is a tradition my father is to rest with his kin.’’

Aemond makes a funny little noise, close to a scoff and a chuckle at once, and you feel your courage die off. ‘’You think I will allow a traitor and a rebel to peacefully find rest in his beloved crypt? Furthermore, you think I allow you to decide such matters?’’ He shakes his head, laughing as he grabs hold of your hips, his cold fingers touching your chin as well, cleaning your forehead of blood. Your father’s blood.

You fight briefly in his arms, seeking escape and help. Aemond’s grip only tightens, his smirk growing dangerous and predatory. ‘’You know what, sweet Pet? Just because you suggested it, just because you dared to stick that little bastard nose of yours where it certainly does not belong, I’ll think of a cruel punishment for both you and your father’s corpse.’’ You regret speaking up, but know that uttering an apology will only make it worse.

Aemond stares in the distance, likely to where his dragon is awaiting him, guarded by soldiers. Women and men scream in the background, yet you only hear the women's cries and the laughter, the sickening laughter of his soldiers as they commit the one after the other unspeakable crime.

‘’Hm. His head is to be brought to me, I have plans with it. The legs can be put on the spikes of the gates, and his cock? We will send that to my traitor sister, the so-called ‘Queen.’ I know for one she likes her men at least twenty years older than she is.’’ He laughs at his own joke, likely something you don’t quite understand and smirks at Cole, who tries to hide his disgust very well. ‘’And perhaps she’ll finally have some pleasure this way in ways my uncle failed to satisfy her, and stop this silly little fit of hers, and quietly roll over as a good woman would and stop pestering us all with her ‘’claim’’.’’ Viserys named her his heir. It is no claim. And if it is, it is on an equal scale as that of King Aegon. Yet you don’t say this. 

You look around you, noticinging you are the only woman left. Most servant girls have been taken elsewhere by Aemond’s men, likely into the taverns. You begged him earlier for their release, to which he only laughed and said that they were entitled to a few ladies, as they bled for this town. You were close to ripping his silver hair out, one hair by one. You promised your father that you would keep this town safe, and what do you do? You entertain this murderer, this kinslayer and this war criminal. Because you are a coward.

‘’I’m off for tonight. If anything happens, you’re in charge, Cole.’’ Aemond says, addressing the commander. His fingers grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at him. ‘’I have plans that involve trying out my new beloved Pet.’’ You let out a shaky breath. 

It should scare you, being alone with the prince. In some ways, it does. It mostly terrifies you. But fear is a funny thing. It awakens bravery in souls that have never been brave their entire lives. Only when one is scared, one can be truly brave. 

Prince Aemond has been drinking, quite a bit if your counting is correct and quite quickly, almost throwing down the one after the other cup of wine. Perhaps if you can make him take a bit more, he’ll pass out and sleep without bothering you. Wishful thinking, perhaps. An opportunity, for certain. Your father did the same with Diandra and you whenever you couldn’t sleep. 

Aemond hooks his arms in yours, dragging you off to your childhood home. The closer you come, the more screams can be heard inside the property, as well as laughter, begs and things breaking. It sounds like glass, and when you lift your head you watch as a servant girl throws herself down the highest floor, screaming as she lands face down on the tiles, her head scattering open as a ripe and juicy piece of fruit. Blood and gore jumps out of her head, as if it are little snakes enchanted by the flute of a singer. It ends up everywhere and yet nowhere at once. It is on the tiles and your gown, but somehow, it does not hit you yet that this has happened. It is as if your mind has closed itself, guarding itself against more pain and trauma.

That awful, awakening feeling of realization, the conclusion that this is forever, irreversible and your fault, comes within a second, yet it takes forever.

You are frozen, completely shocked as you take in the red bloodied spots by her legs and assume she was likely raped before she jumped. You never saw someone kill themselves before. She was your lady. And you failed her.

Aemond simply steps over her body, as if she is not there. ‘’Pet, follow.’’ He barks. You lift your dress to avoid more blood on it, and step over her corpse too, whispering a silent prayer for her soul. And an apology that you failed her.

—

Aemond  brings you inside the bedroom of your father, the biggest bedroom in the house. It is likely why he picked it out for himself. You notice that for a man with such a hideous scar, he is quite vain. Perhaps that is the reason as well. 

Daros is following closely behind, chained and pushed behind you and Aemond and you quietly wonder if he will be forced to watch whatever Aemond plans to do with you. 

‘’Tell me a bit about this room, Pet.’’ Aemond speaks after Daros has been tied up to a chair, and you are touching the silk fabric of your gown, enjoying the soft almost cutting feeling it gives you when you go a little too fast. 

You think. What is there to tell? It does not have any stories. It is a room, used by the leading men of your family for generations. But there are no heroic stories or ghost stories that have happened between these walls. No bloody betrayls or secret weddings full of passion. It is just a room with four walls and a bed. It is nothing special. 

It can never be as special as the man it belonged to. It can never be as special as your father.

Now it belongs to the worst person who ever set foot in your town.

Daros might have been tied up, but he is not gagged. He raises his chin, speaking on your behalf. ‘’This is the bedchamber of her father, Lord Samwell Dawreyn.’’ Hearing his name hurts you. It cuts open your heart and slices your soul.

At first, Aemond slightly tilts his head, his good eye clearing speaking ahead of his words by just twitching: He is enraged that Daros dares to speak to him, for you, and without any permission. He is envious that Daros is not afraid. 

“Hm.” The prince simply comments. “So, it belongs to your father, little Pet? The old fuck you killed?” He asks, his eyes staring hungrily at your bloodied gown, likely recalling the moment where you killed him.

You still see his eyes whenever you close yours. You wonder if that will be forever. Or if one day the horrible day will come you can no longer recall his face.

Aemond briefly walks around the room, inspecting it. “This is likely the same room where your father fucked you into the whore that is your mother, Pet.” He joyfully concludes, shaming you.

But it hurts more that he drags your mother into this, calling her a whore as well.

“How ironic that you will lose your maidenhead in this very room as well.” He adds his voice sinister and a threat. He takes another sip of his wine as you sniffle. “I love it when fate has a good sense of humor.”

Unable to help yourself, you raise your hand at him, ready to strike any moment. He is not impressed and just chuckles as if he finds it very adorable. “O, you can do that, little pet. Get rough with me, and I sure will do the same with you. I don't mind it. I like it rough. I love it, in a sick twisted way.” He grins, staring at your tits as if he can already picture himself inside of you.

You frown at his words, worried that nothing will cross a line when it comes to him, and that nothing is sacred or holy when it comes to him. No crimes he won’t commit, no blood he will not spill, including your own.

He smiles, lowering his eye so he can look at you properly. “But you? Oh, darling. You wouldn't like it one bit.” He chuckles, and yes he is right. “Either lower your hand or deliver the slap.” He says after he has lost his patience, becoming bored and annoyed with you wavering.

You back down, helpless and afraid. You feel so small and useless. You tear up. He finds that very amusing. “My little craven pet. You are too scared to stand up to me, hm? I wonder why.” He takes his dagger out, touching your face with the even cold side of it. 

“You have so many men.” You manage to stutter out afraid as the knife approaches your eyes closer and closer. You worry that one day he will bore himself with you and pass you down as a toy to his men.

He almost chokes on his own laughter, clearly finding it ridiculous that you are scared of his army.

‘’My men? My useless fucking soldiers scare you?’’ From what you’ve seen, they are anything but useless, clearly trained in warfare and combat alike.

You do not know why you are defending his soldiers. Perhaps to show and shame him into thinking he is not powerful as he thinks he is. Perhaps because you need to tell yourself lies why you don’t interfere with Aemond’s twisted plans and plots more. ‘’They helped you win this siege.’’

Daros lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, and Aemond just rolls his good eye. ‘’If the battle had turned ugly, I would have happily burned them all and your town to ash.’’ He says and you don’t doubt him for a moment.

You whimper, afraid at these words, your lips trembling.

‘’Come here.’’ He murmurs against your ear, grabbing you so you won't be able to get away. He turns you to his front, placing the knife at your throat. His slender fingers find the fabric on your shoulders, that hold up your dress and the final piece of your dignity. He brings the knife under the fabric, cutting a cruel hole while you stand there, very close to him and held by your throat by his other hand. He rips the fabric of your gown, baring you naked for both him and Daros to see.

You at first cover yourself, as well as you can. That is until Aemond starts choking you, to warn you of that. Your hands that had cupped your breasts drop and he takes a good look at what is shielding beneath your legs as well as your breasts. Not a single inch of your skin is unknown to him anymore.

Aemond takes a step back to fully appreciate your beauty and your purity when Daros does his best to remain respectful, his eyes lowered at the ground. You appreciate his respect and his gesture.

The prince seems to notice your attention is no longer aimed at him. He becomes furious and turns around, watching Daros who stubbornly glares at the floor tiles instead. He curses, before storming over to Daros, yanking him up by his dark black hairs, and dragging his nails into his throat, spitting threats and orders at him. ’Watch her. Watch her, you fucking useless-’’ You back away, closer and closer to the walls of the rooms, aware you are only trapping yourself.

He exhales, calming himself down, at least, to give you the illusion that he is now calm. You know he is just playing you. ‘’You know what? For every moment your eyes are on the ground and not aimed at her, I'll spank her. Starting now.’’ He walks back to you, a grin on his lips.

You back away further until your back meets the wall. Prince Aemond slenters over to you, slow and tutorious until he finally pins you between his arms, not allowing you to move an inch. ‘’Not running from me, are you, little Pet?’’ He asks, his voice a bit raspy and his one remaining eye clearly deranged.

‘’Please do not hurt me.’’ 

‘’Sh, sweet thing.’’ He whispers when gently nibbling down on your neck, watching you gasp and twist. Until he finally delivers the smack, turning your body sideways so he can reach your ass, and deals a full cruel blow.

You cry out in pain.

‘’Hm,’’ He chuckles, delighted to hear the anguish and fear in your voice. ‘’Gods, you are a delight. Your cries are enough to make me hard, you know that?’’ He laughs. ‘’Come, little pet. You aren’t done yet, your friend isn’t looking, after all.’’ 

Finally,  Daros looks up, tears running down his face as well. Aemond mutters something, clearly annoyed that his game is interrupted but does not force you to come with him anymore.

You turn to Daros who remains chained to the chair where Aemond put him. His bloodied nose has spread blood everywhere and you wish Aemond would give him something to clean his face with. ‘’Lovely tits, tight looking cunt. I am a lucky man.’’ Aemond smirks after he had a thorough inspection, taking in your body.

‘’Please make Daros leave before we make love.’’ You beg. ‘’He is as a brother to me.’’ 

Daros looks as if you stomped on his heart and Aemond just burst out into laughter. ‘’You hear that, you shit? Your soulmate thinks you are a brother. Even in my family we know what that means!’’ He laughs, and you understand you must have accidentally hurt Daros’s feelings.

Yet you hope that now that Aemond is amused, this might be a chance to get on his good side.

‘’So you'll...consider it?’’ You ask hopeful as Aemond's fingers gently brush aside your hair, touching your neck and untying your necklace for you. It drops to the floor, on your dress.

He stops laughing. You instantly become quiet and nervous too. ‘’You know what? I am done with your useless begs and endless whining. It's past time you learned what a pet is.’’ You do not think you’ll like learning it. He gently taps against your chin to get you to look at him. ‘’A pet obeys her master. You no longer will advocate for useless servants or people here. They are all mine to torment. As are you.’’ He says.

You worry you can not hold your one promise to your father. That you would protect your family and your town. ‘’Lay on the bed.’’ He says, folding his hands back on his back, giving you a clear order. You obey, climbing on the bed, laying on your stomach. You feel arousal between your legs and try to stop it at all costs.

Any woman in your position would not enjoy herself. Yet your body finds the prince attractive, despite his crimes and his horribleness. Perhaps it is what he said: Perhaps you are simply so eager for a husband, that you accept whatever comes your way, no matter how horrid the flavor is of this beautiful looking cake.

The prince glances at you. “Good girl.” He whispers in your ear. You are grabbed by your hips and flipped on the bed, your wet cunt now visible for him. He spreads your legs roughly, yanking them apart with just one hand. His other free hand vanishes in the triangle of your legs.

It feels odd to have someone else touch you there. And you can't help but enjoy yourself regardless.

But you are embarrassed and mortified that he will soon discover that you are wet. “Don't-” you beg but it is too late.

Judging by his heartless little chuckle and his spreading grin he can likely already feel just how wet you are for the Prince. His fingers softly pet and try out the limit of your body, gently pushing in. 

“O, little filthy thing. Being so wet for me despite me treating you like shit. Your poor little maiden cunt is basically crying out for me.” He sighs, removing his fingers. You are a bit confused as to why he is leaving your body. Perhaps a bit angry too.

He smirks, knowing all too well you secretly enjoyed it. “Your little friend has a soaked drenched little cunt.” He speaks to Daros again who looked on as Aemond fucked you with his fingers.

Aemond grins at him, bringing his head close to your entrance. You watch as his tongue rolls out of his mouth, gently licking the wet smooth skin. You gasp, slightly twisting. The licks become sloppy, fast and hungry as you begin to feel even more aroused by this act of pleasure. You were never pleasured there before. 

He seems to enjoy himself as well, moaning loudly at your wet sex as he takes the one after the other greedy lick. He takes his time with you. At some point he lets out a low soft moan, clearly licking away at your cunt, your juices ending up on his tongue, in his mouth as if he didn't drink for days and this is all there is for him.

You twist a bit, slightly turning but the prince slams your legs back down, to hold you firmly in place. You like the way his grip tightens and you feel calm for a brief moment.

You feel conflicting emotions. Hatred and shame and mostly disgust and just pure arousal and enjoyment. Your body likes it but your heart can't forgive him.

After having a proper taste, Aemond removes his tongue from your entrance, locking eyes with you as he allows his tongue to wetten his lips, likely spreading your taste all over it. He sighs in delight. He turns to Daros with a grin. “She tastes sweet. Almost as a perfectly riped strawberry, aching to be plucked.” You feel you clench yourself at his choice of words, softly breathing a little harder, arousal getting the better of you.

You still remain where you are, but do eye the door. “And pluck you I will.” He grins at you, smacking your wet and soaked cunny that still shimmers with his salvia. You cry out, helplessly and a little turned on by the gesture.

Prince Aemond grins, easily forcing you up to sit on your behind again. You look around for any ideas of what he could want. Instead of telling you what he plans, he simply forces your head down in a pillow, and forces your legs in a kneeling position. 

Aemond forces your hands above your head, pinning them together.

“Remain like this.” He tells you, his voice is a bit strained. You give an obedient nod, your hands above your head and kneeling like a good girl.

“Come. You have to see this up close.” He tells Daros after he is freed.

“This is filthy.” daros comments. “I shouldn't see this. She doesn't want me to see this.”

You are thankful for his kindness.

“O, don't be a craven.” That is all prince Aemond says.

“You see how it's glinstering? Poor little Pet needs it so badly.”

“Don't you, little pet?” He asks. You give a soft shy nod.

To that the prince laughs. “Look at you, finally being honest to yourself. Do not worry, Sweet little pet. Soon.” He promises. 

“You, you peasant. Take the chair and watch me fuck my pet.” He grins.

“She has a fucking name!” Daros leashes out. You are shocked at his outburst and worry that Aemond will break another part of his body now.

“I don't care.” Aemond says with a little shrug. “Neither will she. She is all I decide she is.” He feels your cunt one more time but you can tell its the final time when he undoes his pants and lowers them.

You can't help but watch the prince, curious to his manhood that is about to be revealed. Prince Aemond catches you watching and smirks. “Pet can deny it all she likes. She wants this.” He says slentering over lazily.

In submission, you bow your head, your desires getting the better off you. Your cunt is drenched for sure and your desires are high and rushing. Prince Aemond knows this.

Your legs are parted slightly, so that the prince may reach your forbidden fruit. You take a deep breath and close your eyes…

And take another quick sharp breath when the Prince's cock pierces through your maidenhead, destroying your innocence and throbs away at your wet cunt. 

You gasp, a little louder as the pain begins to form, your body slightly twisting. The prince chuckles in your ear. “I'm almost  in, pet. You do it well.”

“Almost?” You breath out, confused. The prince does not answer you and instead sinks in deeper, causing you to flinch and to cry out.

He is finally in, you have him inside of you. In a intimate place where no one has been before. And now that he is here, you never want him to leave. 

You buck your hips back at his front, desire getting the better of you as you start to pant, your shame and ego leaving your body.

“See that? Such a eager little pet. I bet you imagined how she is like to fuck. To feel your cock take her walls and to feel her nippels harden and pierce.” 

You forgot all about Daros but when Aemond picks back the torture session your head snaps.

Aemond forces it back with a firm yank at your hair, grinning and spitting at your face when you flinch. He leans in. “You want my attention? You got it, pet. Be a good girl for me and let me just make use of you.” 

The prince's hard body part continues the journey inside you, this time there is no kindness or holding back. He simply keeps slamming inside of you, truly fucking you as you slightly close your eyes, barely containing your moans.

“Too much.” You beg, shivering and shaking with little electric shocks going all over your body.

Prince Aemond ignores you. “You will watch us both. You will watch your little friend here, fuck me, herself, and every fucking person in this shithole if I wish it. You'll watch her come and become a woman.” The prince tells Daros.

You try to interfere again but this time the Prince has spotted you. He glares before slamming back inside of you, this time spanking you roughly during the fucking he gives you.

Your cries become a soft mix of complaints and whimpers, leaving your mouth together with salvia as you eagerly buck back. You need him. You feel it builds to an extension where you can not handle it.

“Well, well, well.” He smirks, behind you still thrusting deep and steadily. “You watch her. Watch her close. This is going to be fun.” Prince Aemond declares.

Daros looks at your face, likely dirty of Aemond's spit early and your own drooling as well as sweat and dried tears and old blood. It truly looks like a mess you just know so.

Prince Aemond grins, panting as he grabs you by your hips, his cock finding your cunt once more. You are bent a bit lower, almost laying down when getting it as his thrusts only increase as does your desire. It builds rapidly as you dig your fingers into the mattress, your hips and back giving it your all to the prince. 

You gasp, wanting to leave it. “S-stop it's too much.” You beg. To that he only laughs.

“So much…I can't handle..”

But he does not listen. He keeps fucking you, his rhythm becoming a hard and fast mix. Your nails are hurting as is your cunt but you need to reach your height. You need it.

The prince simply pulls you a little closer and whispers in your ear, the cock up your cunt. “You will come now, little bastard. You'll soak my cock and in return, I'll coat your cunny with cum. How does that sound?”

As an answer you buck.

He grins, returning to giving it his all with rough trust that causes you to cry out.

You feel like a chain that has snapped. You feel as a ball thrown in the air that finally lands and as a bird that reaches its nest.

You make a strangled little cry that starts soft but ends with a powerful shout that expresses your desire and need. You hear a chuckle behind you, belonging to Aemond who takes you now that you are weak and soft.

You can't take it anymore and that is when you break, on his cock and when you finally find pleasure. Your moans are fast and greedy as the prince allows you to come with a cheeky grin on his face.

After you are done for, you feel him grab your tired hips and sink inside of you, much more painful than he was before. He roughly trusts and you whimper. 

After a rough few minutes you hear the prince hiss and feel him push one final time. “I'm going to come now, bastard.”

You hear him grunt.

You wonder what he means. That is until you feel a soft sharp pain and him finally leaving you be.

You sit up, looking at the bloodied spot at the sheets. Prince Aemond rubs his cock, as you lay on your side watching. When he is done there is white substance on his fingers. “Suck.” He tells you as if you are his mere pet.

You sit up straight, crying the moment that you do of muscle pain between your legs and your hips. Yet you bravely continue knowing the prince does not like to wait.

Your head is grabbed roughly and your mouth is forced open. The cock is put inside and your lips close around his head, sucking it. 

The prince sighs of relief and pleasure, nodding in approval as you slowly work on his cock. “Such a good pet.” He says.

You like hearing that. “Coming on my cock, and in front of your friend who is in love with you.” Aemond grins cruelly.

You avoid looking at Daros and him both as you feel shame and clear regret building inside of you.

“Don't feel bad, little pet. You didn't stand a chance. That cunny wanted a cock so badly. I never had a bedmate that desperate.” you refuse to acknowledge him.

The prince takes his cock out now that it's cleaned. You sit back on the bed, your thoughts racing. Prince Aemond dresses himself, clearly not intending to stay with you. “Go sit against the headboard.” He tells you.

You obey at first.

Until you see he is holding chains. Your smile dies and your worry grows as you already shake your head. “No, this is not needed. I don't need-”

“I do not trust you to stay. I liked fucking you, pet. So I have no intention to let you go.” He reveals as he comes a little closer.

“What about me? What will happen now that you made me watch her fuck?” Daros asks, spitting out the question and glaring at you.

“You sound angry.” Aemond concludes with a smile.

“I am.”

To you he glares. “I can't believe I liked you. You are no better than your sisters. You are just as much of a slut. It should have been obvious when you killed your father you’d do anything for this sick fuck.’’ He says. ‘’O, and your mother? If she knew this, she would be disappointed. Yes, she is alive.’’ 

You receive the one after the other heartbreaking news and to hear today of all days that your mother is alive is madness.

And to hear that he knew. Perhaps a day. Perhaps a week. A month? A year? A decade?

It does not matter what he knew.

It does not matter what you know.

And judging by Aemond’s smirk he is not coming to your aid either.

You eye the dagger on the bed, rage controlling you and for the first time in your life, you feel free as you rush at it, grab it from the bed and prepare to stab someone with it.

At first Aemond looks afraid, scared and worried. You rush over, you take a leap and stab, right into the heart of…

Daros.

Aemond releases a gasp of surprise as you drive the dagger through Daros’s heard, rapidly stabbing him when tears and snot stream out of your eyes and nose. Your naked body becomes soaked with blood as you take your anger and frustration out on Daros.

You don’t stop until it has become awfully quiet around you. Aemond has taken a seat in a chair, watching you intrigued with clear lust in his good eye, playing with his eyepatch. You look down at the man you saw once as a brother, aware that you killed him.

You drop the knife.

You begin to cry.

And you shake his body so violently that a cut of his arm rolls off, that you somehow sliced off.

‘’Daros?’’ Come back. Fuck. No. No!’ You scream at his corpse, hitting him across his face with weak little slaps.

He is gone.

Aemond stands up when you scream, perhaps at the gods, perhaps at yourself. He kneels down beside you, kissing your bloodied hands and licking away the tears and blood in your face, his hands quickly disarming you before you can stab him. “I love it when you surrender to your dark desires.” He whispers. ‘’Now get to bed. I won’t ask again.’’ He ties you up and leaves you there, bloodied and naked. He walks past the corpse of Daros, chuckling before he takes the dagger out.

You watch as Aemond cuts loose his head, and kicks against it, sending it in the direction of the door. He picks the head up as if it's a ball and locks the door behind him when he leaves, leaving you in a confused and utterly broken mental state.

#hotd #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #hotd x reader #hotd x you #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #hotd x oc #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x oc #Smut #dubcon #violence #blood #thighriding #smut #murder #gore #classicalgotviolence #dark!aemond! #overstim

[clownin44]

Hi, are you guys tired of my theories yet? I'm about to yap this is less of a theory and more of me just writing down my thoughts

Fast pass spoilers ahead! (So sorry)

Mr. Thomas, Kidnappings, Paper Cranes, A little bit of Ryan

I saw someone ask why the people who kidnapped the parent's outfits are different from the people who kidnapped the kids' outfits. I didn't want to reblog or comment since obvi there's some spoilers in here, so creds to @/hozaloza for pointing this out!!

I think it's because the group that kidnapped the kids were not the same people who kidnapped their parents.

A while ago, when we first saw the paper cranes group, one of them said they needed to lie low because "both sides were tracking them down" for their stunt in savanna.

I've said this before, but it's very likely that the paper cranes are a secret group within the Contamination Facility that have been taking care of everyone affected by the "fungus." "Both sides" being the kids and the bigger group they all work for.

It's because of this that I don't think Mr. Thomas is a part of the paper cranes despite having them on his desk (HEAR ME OUT). He is more clueless when it comes to the phantom world, whereas the paper cranes are more familiar with it. Ryan reacts nonchalantly compared to Mr. Thomas, who's understandably confused.

When Ryan talks to "The boss," He puts Mr. Thomas's name in quotes (most likely a fake name so he'd be able to work at the school). The boss later confesses that he plans on getting rid of him to Ryan.

So, while yes, I do think he's associated with the paper cranes, I wouldn't go as far as to say he's affiliated with them since they plan to betray him (but who knows, I could be dead wrong in assuming that the literal BAD GUYS wouldn't betray each other 😭😭 (they prob would)).

I dont have fast pass screenshots for this part :^(

Mr. Thomas also tells the children that they're sick, which lines up with what Alex explained to Ash about their condition. He could always just be lying, but he'd have no reason to. Ash was already passing out, and I doubt he'd go out of his way to do so. When we see Jasmine kidnap Tyler, she simply apologizes for waking him before putting him back to sleep (no explanation). The circumstances are obviously different, Ash got away the first time they sedated her and Tyler was already sleeping when it happened, but it's worth noting.

I'd also like to bring up how, in the fast pass, Alex tells Ash that their parents have been "informed about the situation," so he's either

Lying to calm her

Doesn't know that the parents have been kidnapped and is going off of information one of the paper cranes gave him

Telling the truth and the parents are there but perfectly fine!!!

Some other details that I found but didn't know what to do with/wanted to mention:

Mr. Thomas's eye bags and Ryan's reactions.

Idk his eye bags are incredibly noticeable. At first, I assumed it was because he was also in the Phantom realm, seeing as he noticed ashs shadow was different, but we know from Alex that the rift between the two worlds was permanently closed after the kids went into the sorrel weed house. I didn't have another explanation to tie this in with the theory, so I'll just drop it here.

Ryan seems a little uncomfortable while talking to the boss here. It's a small detail, but Red added it, so I'm assuming it's important!! It reminded me of the scene with Tyler and Taylor in chapter 34, where Tyler tells Tay to stay back while he goes and checks to see what the sound from downstairs was. It then cuts to a panel of Taylor being upset and looking away, much like what Ryan does here. (Parallels or whatever)

But then again, he looks fine when following Mike's car, so who the hell knows 🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

It's late, and I've been working on this for wayyyyyy too long. I forgot what else I was gonna add, but I ran out of pictures, so I'm ending it here !! My writing is awful lol I hope this made sense

TLDR: The people who kidnapped the kids are not the same people who kidnapped the parents.

The contamination facility isn't bad, just the paper cranes.

#school bus graveyard #sbg (webtoon) #sbg #school bus graveyard webtoon #aiden clark #ben clark #taylor hernandez #ashlyn banner #character analysis #school bus graveyard theory #sbg theories

[angelfruittree]

Tell publicly 3 facts about yourself or your three favourite songs or favourite books (it can be anything, really-whatever you want to share/feel like talking about) then send it some people you like! ♥️♥️♥️

Ohhh thank you for the ask lys

1. One of my favorite characters ever is Kaul Hilo from the green bone saga - that sound that’s like “I’m not a bad dog I don’t know why I bite” is so very him but he’s rabid! He’s a middle child and something about middle children always gets to me. I think about this bit all the time ( not really a bit is it lmao)

“Now it seemed an impassable emotional mountain. Every time he longed to make things right with Wen, anger yanked him back, like a hand jerking away from flame or Steel rising against a blade.

How often had he found fault with Shae for keeping people at a distance for half the time not being honest with herself, and half the time not being honest with others? Now he was the one sealed off, nursing his invisible wounds alone, just as Lan had once done.

The thought filled Hilo with gloom and dread. He was not a naturally self-sufficient personality. He knew that about himself.

Perhaps some men truly did not need others, but very few, and there was usually something wrong with them to make them that way. The brotherhood of the clan was a promise that its warriors were not alone.

What was the point of Green Bone oaths, of all the sacrifices his family had made, of the relentless war against their enemies, if in the end, the promise couldn't even be kept for him and those he loved?”

But also he’s a murderer and implicates you in every single thing he does . I remember walking my dog listening to Jade war ( book 2 ) and I stopped in my tracks on the street GAGGED!! GAGGED within an inch of my life winded I had to put my hands on my knees.

2. I really love Tasha Suri and help I’m crying but she has these two books called Empire of sand and Realm of Ash and it’s about two sisters ( each book follows a sister) The first book is about the oldest sister ( shes amrithi, a people who have old magic in their blood descended of dessert spirits , they are a nomadic dessert people and they are violently persecuted and feared but their power is also deeply covered - her mother left when she was young bc that is the amrithi way they can’t be pinned down to one place and her father remarries and… anyway I’m talking about realm of ash ) Empire of sand follows a sister forced into an arranged marriage that enslaves her to this dark mystic ( because of her power) but anyway realm of ash follows her little sister, years later who is now a widow and there’s this one line that just skdjdjdjdnffn

“ She thought about how sensible it had always seemed to smooth away her sharp edges, how long her mother had worked to shape her into something worthy of being loved. But Arwa did not care if Gulshera liked her, never mind loved her. She’s had enough of being mothered and molded. She opened her mouth.”

Okay and finally

I read this fic the other day for my two babies 2buck and I’ve been thinking about it none stop sometimes I scream because I think of a line and then I look around me and I’m on the street - or my dogs just looking at me like so disappointed or maybe he’s proud idk here’s the fic my friend found it but idk if I should expose her !!!

But I can’t stop thinking about it ahsjzjzjsjssjsn

#anyway thank you so much lys!!!!! #I - this want cohérent but I had a fair amount to say and now I’m kinda sobbing