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hp-hcs · 2 months

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• smut • literally everyone here is so problematic (but oh, so hot) [part 2 of drunk words, sober thoughts] — best friend! dom top! jealous! theodore nott x gn! bottom/receiving! dumbass! reader x best friend! switch! jealous! manwhore! mattheo riddle

tysm to the anon who gave me this idea ur a real one 🤲👑

okay so like, i never really state it in text but like, reader, theo, and mattheo have been like a best friend trio since first year alr?

working on a part three rn you silly lil horndogs

read the title man idk

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“We can’t keep doing this,” you mumbled, but your head still tilted to the side to grant him better access.

“Why not?” He asked, kissing along the newly-freed skin of your neck and lightly biting down on your collarbone.

You let out a breathy half-moan. “We can’t- this isn’t fair for either of us. I can’t give you a real relationship.”

“I don’t care about that,” he said dismissively, tilting his head up to suck on the sensitive flesh on the underside of your jaw. “As long as I can have you in my bed.”

“How romantic,” you deadpan.

He laughed, shutting you up with yet another sharp thrust of his hips. “Never said I was, darlin’.”

You gasped and moaned. “Fuck! Th-there!”

He followed your directions, gripping your hips tighter and driving into you with renewed vigor.

Your thighs trembled and your nails raked along his back as you came with a low moan of his name.

He followed right after you, moaning and burying his face into the side of your neck. His hair, damp with sweat, brushed against your jaw, making you smile as you felt him shake above you.

He caught his breath after a moment, pulling out and rolling off of you. “You know that you can’t just keep sleeping with me to forget about him, right?”

“Oh, c’mon. Like you’re gonna complain? Don’t you want a hot-albeit-emotional-disaster such as myself in your bed?”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say no to that,” he snickered, reaching over the side of his bed to retrieve his shirt from the pile of discarded clothes before tugging it over your head and helping you get your arms through the sleeves. He laid back down so you could curl into his side, wrapping an arm around your middle and mindlessly running his fingers up and down your side.

You both lay in a comfortable silence for a moment before you quietly murmured, “Thank you.”

“For the sex or the pep talk?” He teased, running a gentle hand through your hair.

“Both,” you give him a half smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “But really, I mean it. Thank you, Mattheo.”

~~~

“That’s it, shit- yeah, fuck,” Mattheo moaned, dropping his quill on his desk in favor of threading his fingers through your hair. “So good- so damn good at this.”

You’d really thought you’d be able to go to the library with Mattheo after school “to study”. And you were doing plenty of that, if studying what that fine Riddle dick looks like up close is going to be a question on your Charms exam. Which, y’know, it probably won’t.

You could feel your legs cramping up from being curled up in a kneeling position underneath the table for the past ten minutes, but that didn’t stop you from tightening your grip on his thighs and taking him down as far as you could go.

His grip on your hair tightened in warning. “Shit- someone’s coming,” he hissed.

You pulled off of him just to sassily respond with, “Yeah, you.”

With just a few pumps of your fist, wrapped tight around his dick, Mattheo fell apart in the middle of the library.

~~~

“Fuck! Yes- shit!” Mattheo groaned and cursed.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed. “Are you trying to get caught?”

“I won’t claim to not be an exhibitionist,” he said in a mock-serious tone. “Besides, tell me this isn’t a hot place to fuck.”

“This isn’t a hot place to fuck,” you scoffed as you tightened your legs around his waist. “If I drown in this damn lake ‘cause of you, I will haunt your bitchass.”

~~~

“You seem to be awfully…close with Matt right now,” Theo said in an odd, stilted tone.

“Yeah,” you said shortly. “We are.”

“That’s…nice, I guess.” Theodore cleared his throat. “Riddle’s cool.”

“Yup,” you said in a bored tone, not even sparing a glance in his direction.

Theo huffed out an annoyed sigh, abandoning his fruitless questioning. “Whatever. Can you pass the butter?”

~~~

“Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah, kinda.” Mattheo drawled.

“Apologies, won’t happen again,” Theo sneered, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame as he surveyed the scene in front of him.

His longtime crush, sprawled out naked on his best friend’s bed. He kept his eyes trained pointedly at your faces, making no acknowledgment of the fact that Mattheo was three fingers deep inside you.

“So, like- this is real awkward,” Mattheo licked his lips and pursed them, unabashedly meeting Theo’s gaze and quirking an eyebrow. “You can either leave or come in, but either way, you gotta shut the door, man. That’s just common courtesy.”

Theo scoffed. “Are you seriously suggesting I stay?”

“I’m not not seriously suggesting you stay.”

“I’m not watching my best friends have sex, you fuckin’ freak.”

“Shit, what d’ya want me to say then, Mr. Prude?” Mattheo rolled his eyes. “You rather join in?”

“I’m not having a threesome with my best friends!”

“Coward.”

Theo spluttered out a protest that fell on deaf ears.

“Boys, boys, we get it. You’re both pretty,” you say dryly. “Either stay or don’t, Nott, but I’m getting fucked either way.”

Theo hesitated at the doorway before cursing under his breath and stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “I hate you both.”

“We hate you too,” you and Mattheo replied dryly in unison.

Theo scoffed and took a hesitant step closer. He chewed on his bottom lip nervously and looked at you as he sat awkwardly on the edge of the bed. “What about the…y’know, disagreement?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I’m still mad at you for that.”

“Yeah, and I’m mad at you too!” Mattheo interjected before leaning in to loudly whisper to you, “What exactly are we mad at him for?”

“Teddy’s only been my friend for the last six years because he thought he’d get lucky.” You said through a tight smile.

“That’s not- I- I mean, it kind of is, but- it’s-”

“That’s kind of a dick thing to do, Teddy,” Mattheo said in a mocking tone.

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Riddle. Like you’re not doing the exact same thing!”

“Wait, what?” You interrupted at that, but the boys continued arguing.

“You don’t get to call dibs on a person, Nott!”

“You don’t get to hook up with your best friend's crush, Riddle!”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Mattheo seethed.

“Boys!” You snapped suddenly.

They both went dead silent, looking over at you with matching deer-in-headlights expressions like they’d forgotten you were there—despite the fact that you were the literal topic of their argument.

“Are you done with the damn fighting?” You prompted, your eyes narrowing.

“Yes, Y/n,” both boys chorused sheepishly, only to shoot each other glares when they thought you weren’t looking.

“Good boys,” you taunted. “Now, kiss and make up.”

“What? I’m not going to-” Theo spluttered.

“I wasn’t asking, Theodore.”

“Fine,” Theo seethed in annoyance, grabbing Mattheo by the back of his neck and yanking him into a harsh kiss. There was no romance there. No lust, no real passion. Just jealousy and anger.

Mattheo, ever the slut, still moaned and grabbed onto Theo’s hips to pull him closer, practically climbing into his lap.

Theo growled, biting down hard on his bottom lip. Mattheo whimpered and unabashedly started grinding against Theo’s thigh, moaning like a goddamn Muggle porn star.

“Fucking whore,” Theo hissed against his lips, shoving him back down onto his bed. “Thought I could trust you.”

“What, so it’s okay for you to incessantly chase Y/n, but when I do it, I’m a whore?”

“Yes!”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Nott.”

You rolled your eyes at their pettiness. “For the love of Merlin- you’re both stupid, how about that?”

They pause their bickering to glance over at you.

“What did you just call us, darlin’?” Mattheo asked in a suspiciously calm voice, seemingly unbothered by the fact that his best-friend-slash-current-enemy-slash-crush-stealer was actively straddling him and busying himself by nibbling and sucking at Mattheo’s neck.

A sarcastic comment died in your throat as you watched them interact. Despite Theo being preoccupied, coaxing tiny sounds out of Mattheo’s mouth with every jealousy-fueled nip at his neck, his gaze remained locked on yours.

You gulped. You’d been so confident before, but now they were staring at you with matching expressions of jealousy, possessiveness, and lust.

Ah.

Whoops.

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marksbear · 1 year

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hate sex with patrick bateman? perhaps 🤔

patrick hating reader for being "better" than him (contemplates killing him), they fuck, patrick turns into a desperate mess

i <3 seeing these cocky "alpha males" turn into whiny desperate sluts <33

Anon we both think like great request my friend! Cocky men becoming a slut is one of the things I live for. And sorry for taking so long I fell asleep writing this

Warnings! SMUT, brat taming, teasing, talking about killing, about to kill, Patrick is a asshole, swearing

PATRICK BATEMAN X MALE READER

"Hey did y'all hear that Y/n got another big promotion?"

"Oh my fucking God." Patrick thinks to himself. He feels like hes gonna puke if he hears your name being mentioned one more time.

"Yeah! The man is gonna have it all. He already has the women dropping to his feet and the bosses practically worshiping the man." The guy next to him says causing Bateman to clench his fist.

He never met Y/n personally but he has to hear about him all day long. "Y/n this. Y/n that. Y/n.y/n. Y/n." Patrick says mentally feeling a headache coming from hearing about the things he did.

"What about you Bateman. What do you think about L/n?" All of the men's heads turning around giving Patrick their full attention.

"That hes a annoying son of a bitch. And he makes me wanna kill him with my bare fucking hands. And he's a waste of space in this damn earth"

Well of course he didn't say that but he only imagined he did and says this instead.

"I never met him, but he seems like a great guy." Patrick gives them a short lie making them all pleased. "You never met him!?! That truly can't work. How about I schedule a dinner for you both to meet?" One of the men offers his co-worker.

"Yes, for I can finally kill him." "Sounds good how about tonight?" Patrick says instead of his first thought. The co-worker gets the phone calling up Y/n so Bateman can hear. "Hey L/n, are you busy tonight? I have someone you should meet. You are great! I know you're gonna like him. Meet at the restaurant where I always take you. Okay bye."

"I just changed your life for ever Bateman! Get ready to meet the greatest man in your lie."

TIMESKIP

Patrick arrived before Y/n checking his watch impatiently and slightly annoyed.

"You're here early."

Patrick looks up at the figure that he's guessing is Y/n.

"Fuck hes handsome. And he looks sharp wearing a suit that hasn't even gotten released yet. Y/n looks exactly like hes described from the stories he heard. Why the fuck does he look better than me!?!"

Bateman rambles in his mind and sticks his hand out. "Patrick Bateman."

"Bateman? I heard of you. And seen you around at work a lot just never made an effort to go up and talk to you. Y/n L/n nice to meet you." Y/n says with a smile and takes a hold of Patrick's hand giving it a tight shake.

The dinner was far from quiet. Y/n almost had every single conversation starter under his sleeve. Some sparked a short topic and some sparked a long conversation and some even started a debate or an argument.

"Hey L/n it's getting late. How about we continue this in my place?"

"Good idea Patrick. How about I pay?"

Right when Patrick opens his mouth about to argue about how Y/n doesn't need to pay Y/n hands the waiter his card.

TIMESKIP AT PATRICK'S PLACE

As soon as the two step inside the place Y/n pins Patrick on the wall by the front door. "Patrick. Tell me what do you want from me? Because I know you hate me. I know we were not friends, so why invite me here?"

Y/n backs away from Patrick slowly with a smirk on his face before heading into the living room. "You think you're better than me don't you Y/n?" Patrick says in his mind before quickly follows after the man. Patrick stops in tracks fighting with himself mentally just to get his axe and drive it through the other man skull.

Patrick snaps himself out of his thoughts and goes to the living room. "Nice place you got Patrick." Y/n says looking outside through the window watching cars and other things. Patrick finds a knife and walks up to Y/n slowly raising it.

Y/n turns his head around slowly and Patrick throws the knife somewhere else becoming nervous. "For a man who hates me you sure do love being close." Y/n puts his hands on Patrick's hips bringing him closer.

"Tell me Patrick. Do you love being close to me?" Y/n uses his right hand to bring it to Patrick's chin then uses his thumb caressing Patrick's bottom lip.

Patrick hated you. He hated how you talk, how you walk and even how you breathe. He hated you with his life. But now why is he acting like this, His body became putty by your touch. The way you look down at him, the grip you have on his hip, your hand on his chin and your thumb lazily on his lip.

What are you doing to him?

Patrick gives Y/n a weak nod as an answer to his past question. "Use your words." Y/n smirks moving his thumb off of Patrick's lip and back to his chin. "Yes." "Good boy Bateman."

Y/n pushes Bateman away from him and walks around looking for the bedroom. Patrick quickly picks up the knife from the floor and follows after Y/n.

Y/n stops in the hallway turning around at Patrick staring at him like a predator like hes taunting Patrick to come closer to him. Patrick clenches his jaw tightly setting the knife on the nearest flat surface. Patrick's blood boils and his veins pop once he's the smirk on Y/n face.

"After you Patrick." Y/n opens the bedroom door inviting Patrick in. Slowly Patrick walks into the bedroom already knowing where this is leading. Y/n shuts the door after he goes inside walking up behind Patrick. Y/n takes off his shoes and socks then takes off his suit jacket. Patrick watches the men take his clothes off.

"Can you just strip and stop being a brat." Y/n says catching Patrick a bit off guard.

Patrick takes off his clothes and shoes. After hes done Y/n attacks his lips with his own.

The kisses are rough and a bit painful because Patrick refuses to be the submissive one. Y/n groans in annoyance and tackles Patrick on the bed so hes under him. Patrick tries to push Y/n off of him but fails just ending up scratching his arms. "You're such a brat Patrick." Y/n says pulling away from the harsh makeout,

"What? You don't like underneath a man like me? Well you better get used to it." Y/n laughs at Patrick before using one of his hands going down to Patrick's cock.

"You're already hard? Wow and the only things we did were just kiss." Y/n doesn't waste anytime jerking off Patrick. "Fuck! L/n s-stop touching me!" Patrick tries to contain his moans but some fall out. "Ohh~l-let me go! fuck!"

Y/n hand doesn't slow down anytime soon he even goes faster up and down every time Patrick begs.

After a while Y/n stops moving his hand with a smirk on his face. Patrick doesn't even notice Y/n's hand not moving and raising his hips up and down into Y/n hand. Y/n lets go of Patrick cock and puts two fingers on Patrick's lip."Suck them."

Patrick didn't want to. At first he bit them because he didn't want to look weak and desperate. Y/n watched him bite his fingers and let out a sigh. "If you keep acting like this i'll just fuck you dry and you get no prep." Y/n warns Patrick but lets out another sigh when Patrick tries to flip him over.

"I warned you Patrick. Now your just getting me fucking irritated." Y/n flips Patrick over so his belly and chest are on the bed but Y/n holds Patrick ass in the air.

Y/n spits a few times on Patrick hole making him mad. "Stop spitting on me Y/n! You're a dirty disgusting bastard!" "Don't you fucking dare put that disgusting cock inside of me---- fuck~" Patrick insult was cut of by his own moan once he felt Y/n cock pushing inside him. "Oh!~ fu-- oh gOD~" Patrick holds the sheets tightly as he feels Y/n moving inside him. "Ju-just shove it in already!~ please just gi--vie me your cock." Y/n decided to be nice and answer Patrick begs by thrusting his cock fully inside him.

Patrick lets out breathy moans feeling Y/n cock go up and down inside of him. "Fa-faster! fuck me faster Y/n!" Patrick hates himself for begging but god Y/n felt too good inside of him he couldn't help it. Y/n snaps his hips into Patrick at a face pace abusing his hole like he was a toy.

Patrick sneaks his hand down to his cock jerking himself off as hes getting fucked.

Y/n take Patrick's arm harshly holding it above his own head pinning his hand down. "Sluts like you aren't allowed to touch themselves without permission" Y/n thrust became aggressive using his free hand to Patrick hair.

Patrick feels Y/n cock twitch inside him and he panics. "No no no! Don't cUm~ inside of me! fu-fuck no!" Patrick's own cock twitches from imagining Y/n cumming inside of him but his mind feels disgusted at the thought.

Y/n thrust quickness searching for Patrick prostate. "Shi~ FuCk oh fuuck~! agaIn hit it again!~ more more please." Patrick screams into the sheets when he feels Y/n cock push against his prostate.

Y/n hits that spot over and over again until Patrick cock is twitching rapidly and aching precum leaking out of the tip. Patrick feels the knot in his stomach become tight and moans words and sentences that don't even make sense. "I'm cumming! fu-fuck i'm cumming! ahhHh!~" Patrick cums hard on the sheets and his head is in full bliss not even feeling Y/n hot cum inside him.

After Patrick gets out of his high he feels something hot and sticky leaking out of him and getting onto his thighs. "Y-you asshole! you dirty bastard I told you not to c-cum inside!" Patrick shouts.

Y/n laughs and says "I couldn't even pull out. Your slutty hole kept me inside~" Y/n teases letting go of Patrick's hand and hair putting both of his hands on Patrick's hips. Y/n snaps his hips deep inside Patrick causing him to yelp out. "fuck~ Y/n give it to me please! I-im your desperate slut please! keep fucking me until I pass out please! Fuck me like that slut I am!~"

"Fuck I hate you Y/n for making me like this!~" Patrick thinks feeling Y/n cock inside of him moving slowly.

"Be a good slut this time Patrick. Then I may let you suck my dick."

THE END

#patrick bateman #american psycho #slashers x male reader #x male reader #male reader #Patrick bateman x male reader #x top male reader #x dom male reader #slasher x male reader #american psycho x male reader #the bear club

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

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hello! i hope you’re doing well! i would like to request something for alex keller! could you write something about sunshine!alex being absolutely smitten by his girlfriend who’s a grumpy!reader? sorry if this request doesn’t give a lot of ideas. love ur fics btw!!!! <3

Sun and Stars

Pairing: Alex Keller x F!Reader

Synopsis: Bloodied, the two of you find yourselves alone in a mountainous forest, surrounded by the termite-eaten walls of a lone shack. But Alex always finds a way to make the world brighter.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Canon typical gore & themes, blood, a teeny tiny bit of angst, lots of fluff, banter, sunshine and grump dynamic

A/N: This is a bit shorter just because I wanna understand Alex's character more - take this as a test fic lmao. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He was peeling back your skin like layers of paint on a canvas, gripping at the dried bits and ripping them to the side. Growling as your teeth sink deeper into your boyfriend's leather belt, your eyes swirl with hatred that you direct to the man kneeling beside your propped-up form; digging the bullet out of your left arm with all the delicateness of a rhino.

“Stop,” Alex grunts under his breath, “squirmin’ for me.” The tweezers go deeper, trying to find the sweet spot where the metal pellet had dived into your flesh at high velocity. Of course, it had been where the thick kevlar of your vest hadn’t been able to stop it – flew right to the place where the skin was uncovered.

Alex’s breaths are steady as you stare daggers, minutes away from yanking him off of you and doing it yourself. He was so damn slow, sending concerned glances every other moment with a furrowed brow and concentrated eyes. From under your makeshift gag, there so you won't bite off your tongue, you grumble with pain lacing your barely understandable words.

“Hurry up and get the fuckin’ thing out of me, Alex!” It didn’t sound like that, obviously, but the general heat to your words made – hurrey uh ahn geh tha fuhking thing ou of meh, Ahlex! – clear enough.

The light-haired man clears his throat, gripping your arm just a little tighter with his blood-stained gloves as his mustache rotates, scrunching his nose. His eyes are locked onto the entry wound, lids scrunched in a way you would have found comedic if you didn’t want to smack him upside the skull. Lord, could he just hurry up?

“I’m gettin’ there, Hon…just quit trying to make my head explode with your mind over there, yeah?” Alex dares to smirk when you take your free hand and slap his heavily tattooed forearm. You’re shaking your head to the side with displeasure that would transcend any barrier known to man.

A velvety chuckle leaves your lover’s lips before he leans close to your shoulder, placing a kiss on the fabric of your shirt in apology as your narrowed eyes don’t let up an inch. He pulls back and continues his exploration of your gaping puncture with focused eyes.

Prick. You chuff through your nose like a cat, fingers twitching in your lap as you fight the pull to bring it into a fist.

Sweat travels down your nose only to plop on your bunched abdomen, and in the back of your throat, you force your esophagus to hold back a whimper of restrained pain. Everything burned like your flesh was being placed on a hot spit – like you were a sheep carcass slowly rolled around and around and around–

“Here we go.” The pressure dissipates at the heavy whisper, and without even realizing it had happened, your head had tilted back into the wall and your eyes had ground themselves shut. Opening them quickly and blinking away the black dots, the soft face of your boyfriend pops into view; beaming as you deadpan up at him. The man holds up the tweezers in one hand, showing off the red-dripping metal almost lazily with a tilt of his head and a raised brow, speaking slowly. “Told ya’ I could do it faster than you.”

Letting the belt drop from your mouth with a metallic clink, you rotate your jaw at the ache your clenching had caused. You settle with a simple, “I said I could do it better not faster. What the hell were you looking for in there anyways – gold? My whole damn arm’s numb.”

Alex chuckles, rolling his eyes with an easy smile. To anyone else, the two of you would look like the strangest couple in the world. Covered in blood but you still have the time to bicker back and forth like a married pair. The Agent’s eyelids crinkle.

“Yeah, alright, Miss World-Class,” he motions with two fingers and a smug look, “scoot upwards so I can pack that wound before blood gets stuck in your gear. Can’t have my girl bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, now can I?” He huffs, placing the tweezers and bullet on the floor of the safe house before taking off the ruined gloves with his teeth as his neck muscles peek out from his scarf.

His gear was all covered in fluids – blood, mud, you name it the two of you were drowned in it. The Op could have gone better, to say the very least, but, hell, when does an Op go well? It had been too long since you and the man had a break and it was starting to weigh on you. Long nights and little sleep, it was like SAD was trying to go get you both killed with all the orders being given. Do this, do that…and what happened today? You feel a weight in your chest.

But the bullet wound wasn’t what was bothering you.

Sighing, you take a deep breath before grunting, forcing your back farther up the wall with shaking legs and a weak stomach to comply with Alex’s request. Your arm still blazes something awful, but the numbing agent your boyfriend had been insistent on you having was finally starting to work.

“Blood loss sucks ass…” You growl under your breath, lips twisting into a frown as you force away the haze in front of your eyes with fluttering eyelashes and sheer spite. The man spares you a pitying glance as he grabs fresh gauze from the medical punch on the floor.

Inside your chest, your heart warms despite the outward hatred you feel for getting put in a situation like this. Blinking at him, Alex tilts his head to the side as he sits up, one knee on the floor as the other behaves as an elbow rest.

“I know, Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Just bare with me, alright? I’ll take such good care of you, ya’ won't even feel a thing.” You roll your eyes with an infectious smile, head tilting back to rest on the dilapidated wall once more, and say nothing.

“Hey, now,” your boyfriend teases with tell-tale amusement in his voice, and you mumble a half-assed ‘quit it’ under your breath that goes unheeded. “I saw that smile there – you can’t get past me that easily.”

“Keller, shut up and patch me before I bleed out.”

An amused pause makes your cheeks hurt from holding back laughter.

“...Yes, Ma’am.” He says it so smugly you can’t help the exasperated chuckle that leaves your lips. The man’s hands caress your stained skin like you were formed of glass, rubbing soothing circles as he pushes back your shirt sleeve just the tiniest bit more to see what he’s working with.

Alex was quite good at keeping his emotions in check, knowing how to act when he needed to, and even how to change his personality to get the job done with minimal hiccups. But there were small tells – the way his hands held your skin slightly tighter, the flickering of his eyes over the crimson-coated skin. He was used to blood, but he didn’t think he could ever get used to yours. Swallowing saliva in this mouth, the man focuses on the thrumming pulse of your heart; your skin.

She’s right here. Alex tells himself. I’m gonna fix her up, and she’ll be just fine.

If he had the chance to shoot the man that did this to you again, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The story of how you two met was one mentioned often by friends and coworkers back in the CIA-SAD headquarters. It never got old, apparently, and as Alex gets to stuffing and wrapping your wound until the extraction team comes with proper supplies, he hums a song under his breath softly. The song.

When Alex’s presence presses nearer, you tilt your head to the side, watching the wrinkle in the large man’s brow as his careful hands fix your marred skin with the patience of a saint. Unlike him, you were more than content to bask in the silence of each other's company, gazing with hidden love at the twitch of his large nose or at the way his hair stuck every which way.

“You remember how I asked you to dance at that ball while Frank Sinatra was playing? The one in Washington back in ‘02.” Alex asks, looking up at you with a small smile under his mustache, skin peeling back to show perfect teeth. You nod, transfixed, as the light from outside gets dimmer, watching the dying rays play in his eyes that shine like shades of blue sea-glass, “God, I thought you were going to laugh straight in my face. I swear you nearly did.”

“The stupid corporate thing that Laswell made us go to? Yeah, I remember it,” you frown at the accusation, annoyed, “and I would never laugh at someone asking me to dance.”

He raises a light brow, and after a brief staring contest, you concede with a scoff.

“Okay, I’d never laugh at you asking me to dance…Better, Sunshine?” Alex laughs and you swear you nearly melt into the floor, cheeks feeling hot.

Oh, when he laughs.

“Maybe, I don’t know yet. We’ll have to go dancin’ to make sure.”

“I hate dancing,” you tease, only biting your lip when the knot he ties in the gauze makes your blood pump faster. “Thought I told you that the first time you asked?”

“You did – but I like when you’re swayin’ in my arms. Plus,” running his hands over the bandage, pulling at the fabric to make sure it’s secure, his blue orbs sparkle with his unique mischief you’ve come to tolerate. If only for the fact that it was his. Your face softens. “I did get you to join me eventually, if my memory’s correct.”

Smirking, you bring your hand up to his chin, tilting it towards you without hesitation. Alex complies easily, setting some of his weight onto the limb as a particularly smitten glimmer sparks over his face; he stares down at you with his mustache twitching.

“As I recall,” your blank words echo out over the small shack, “I only said ‘yes’ so you would stop following me around like a lost dog in search of its owner.”

“Is that it?” He jibes, a smile so wide on his face you feared he would rip his lips open.

“Hm,” leaning closer, you watch Alex’s breath stutter not a second later with satisfaction singing in your blood like a hymn, “you had that same look on your face too…Absolutely whipped.”

“And is that such a bad thing, Sweetheart?” He whispers, not missing a beat, breath fanning your cheeks as the scruff of his beard hairs scratches your flesh. “I don’t see you complaining when I make you dinner every night.”

Scoffing, you squeeze his chin, “how could I? Your mother blessed you with her culinary skills. I’d be a fool to pass it up.”

Alex’s chest rumbles in a purr.

“So you’re usin’ me?” He asks, his smooth voice tilted in a tone of bold cheekiness. Like a steady wave rocking a boat.

“Would it be unethical if I was?” You counter, staring dead on into his eyes without blinking. His lips nearly brush yours when he speaks.

“Incredibly.”

“Hm…Pity.” You release his chin and lean back into the wall, murmuring complaints under your breath about the weakness of your arm and the sweat that makes your clothes stick to you. The regular grumpy frown on your lips re-takes its place where the easy smile had once been, unknown to you.

Alex’s heart beats loudly in his chest, but he refrains from showing his disappointment at the lack of lips pressed to his, only happy that you were still acting like your normal self. It would take more than one bullet to keep you down, he knew, and his admiration only continued to grow.

His girlfriend was a badass.

“Here – let me.” You allow the Agent to loop his strong arm under your shoulder, taking your weight like it was nothing and helping you to your feet. The comfortable conversation slips to the back of your mind when your feet are connecting to the ground.

Alex keeps a hand on the small of your back to make sure you don’t fall, whispering a small, “steady,” as your feet momentarily stumble.

“How far out is Evac?” You force through gritted teeth, the back of your neck heating in wounded pride.

You loved Alex - you really did - but if anything made you feel powerless it was not being in control of your own body. In the corners of your vision, black dots swirled like paper mache puppets, their phantom bodies leaving long streaks of mist behind as they danced from one position to another. The man at your side watches closely, face going tense; ready to catch you if your legs give out.

After a moment’s hesitation, you once more gain control over yourself and clear your throat, shaking your head from side to side. The light brunette takes a step forward so his body brushes yours, leading you to blink and look up at him with curious eyes.

“I’d say about three hours, give or take.” You can’t help the utter annoyance that enters your expression, eyes going half-lidded as you turn to stare at the barricaded door.

No one would be coming after you from the city – and the safe house was so far off into the mountains, no one would want to try. If your thoughts hadn’t been running so fast, you would have reveled at the situation; Alex and you alone with no one coming for hours. Now that was a blessing in disguise.

But there was something wrong.

She’s not acting right. Those sea-glass eyes narrow, optics flickering to try and find what exactly you were staring at, but lands on nothing but an old door with moldy wood before he gravitates back.

Concerned confusion builds in Alex’s chest.

Now that he thought about it, you had been more snappy on this mission than the others; less open to letting his jokes and quick quips curl your lips or soften your constant scowl. He’d refrained from mentioning anything due to the fact that he knew some days were worse than others – in this line of work sometimes it was best to take a breather than to blow up. But this was different. When those days came around, you always told him about it first thing – there hadn’t been anything this time.

“Sweetheart?” Alex asks, tilting his head forward to stare at you. “...Something going on?”

“No.” Straight-faced, your hands go to work the straps of your vest, peeling at the velcro at your sides. The man’s eyes widen, taken aback, and his soft smile freezes as his eyebrows pull in. You go back to shoving away pouches and hucking off your weapon, setting it to the floor before righting yourself.

Continuing, Alex feels his worry grow tenfold.

“Would you–” he laughs heavily in his chest to try and dispel tension as you try harder to force the vest over your head, scowling. Your arm was ripe with needles, static living under the skin as your gauze turns more red. “Would you just let me take care of you?”

“...You shouldn’t have to.”

A moment of brain-shattering silence.

Fuck, you curse with a burning face, did I say that out loud? He wasn’t supposed to hear that–

“And what if I want to?” Alex utters, feet carrying him in front of you and sighing. You slow your still unexplained actions, avoiding his eyes and feeling your chest tighten. He continues, bringing his hand up to your cheek to tilt your head up to him. Losing some of that tension instantaneously, you glare at his collarbone instead. “Accidents happen, Hon. We can’t always come out of this at one hundred percent. I’m not disappoint–”

“We don’t get second chances, Alex,” you interrupt loudly, motioning around you at nothing, eyes flashing as they lock with his. The man just runs his thumb over your cheek – leaving molten heat behind. “Not us. Not when every mission could be it.”

Alex halts, body suddenly going stiff and muscles bunching. His forearms seize, the vibrant tattoos that you love to trace with your fingers jerking as if being lifted from the sun-kissed skin. His thumb ceases.

What?

“...Where’s this comin’ from?” You turn away quickly, moving back a step with your hands at your side bunching into fists, “hey,” Alex follows after, hesitant, but when you don’t move away he lays both of his hands on your shoulders. “Hey. Talk to me, Sweetheart. Tell me what’s wrong.”

You shouldn't, but Alex just makes everything so much easier. It was like the words just fell out of you; whispered like a prayer.

“...If someone would have snuck up on you while I was down…I…Y-you would have…” Your tongue bunches, catching on syllables and finding walls embedded in the vowels. God, you couldn’t even say it.

Alex had become so important to you – the thought of something happening to him while you were unable to help…It broke you.

What would have happened if even one more hostile was there; if he was outnumbered? And all I could do was watch. Your jaw clenches tight, throat holding back a growl.

No one had ever mattered this much to you, and that made you incredibly nervous.

The hands at your shoulders tighten, a gentle squeeze before you’re being brought into a warm embrace without another word. Immediately, you reciprocate, the one wounded arm remaining at your side as the other digs past pouches and spare ammo to curl over Alex’s back, where you latch onto his shirt like a child. This was unlike you.

But it wasn’t like that mattered to Alex.

His body kept you close, security leaking from the locked position of his hand on the back of your head and the even swelling of his lungs. Home could mean many things to many different people, but for you, it would always be here. Colorful tattoos and a well-groomed mustache. Kind eyes.

Sunshine smiles and sea-glass blue.

Your lips thinned, keeping the glossiness in the corners of your vision away as you bury your head into Alex’s neck and suck down a deep breath. You both stay like that until the last light of dusk stops making shadows of the termite-eaten furniture, content to listen to each other's heartbeats and in the warmth of living skin.

He speaks in whispers.

“How about we take a vacation? Just the two of us – take a breather from all of…this.” His words move your hair, spreading over the skin of your scalp as he presses his lips to it, murmuring into your skull with utter devotion. “You said something about Iceland to Laswell once, yeah?”

Alex knew just as well as you did how draining this job was; how it was bad most days and horrible the next – never having choices, doing things that made an identity crisis seem like a holiday in comparison. There were some things the Agent would never tolerate, and that was you going off the deep end and him not being there to fish you out as you do with him. Being together meant fighting for one another when the battles were physical yet more so when they were unseen.

All you had was each other.

He feels your fingers grip his shirt slightly tighter, and a mocking laugh.

“You remembered that?” Your voice is garbled by his gear, but the vibrations spread over his skin as he fights the closing of his eyes; weaving his fingers just a little more through your locks. When you press kisses to his neck, Alex swears he’ll bend to one knee without hesitation.

“‘Course,” he smirks softly, lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth despite your half-hearted protests. “I remember everything my girl says. But if we’re goin’,” the Agent leans back, prompting you to look up at him with fatigued but bright eyes, “you owe me a dance first.”

“Alex,” you roll your eyes, chest lighter and mild panic gone. Funny, how the man could make everything disappear so simply. “We don’t even have any music.”

“You’re insinuating that we need music, Sweetheart.”

“...You’re exhausting, Keller.”

“Shush – you’re getting me off beat.”

“There is no beat–!” He presses his lips to yours, and the melody of your heart becomes song enough. Your eyes flutter shut as the scratch of Alex’s mustache leaves you grinning, his own lips peeling back in a smile in answer.

A great bout of chuckles spills over the room, separating your supple flesh but never making you move far apart.

“...Just be careful. I’m still sore.” You hum your admittance, and he connects your foreheads together more gracefully than butterflies wings.

Sea-glass blue.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The stars might have been out, shining through the dusty window of that old shack in the middle of nowhere, but you didn’t need the illumination from them to guide your unhurried steps. You had a sun of your own to light the path, and he was keeping his arms around you; squeezing as if you’d leave.

As if.

Gentle laughter spills out from under the doorway, seemingly making the rocky forest outside come alive. Birds sang songs to their adoring mates, deer grazed in lush green meadows in contentful calm. Wood Nymphs frolicked to and fro on fast feet, but would pause near the ancient forgotten building with termites living in the frame; taking quick peaks inside through murky glass and pressing moss-coated fingers to lips.

They watched the two lovers dance with awe-filled expressions. For they had seen many lifetimes but had never once glimpsed such a sight as this – proof of every principle that Eros had preached as he and Psyche became inseparable. A love so pure and giving, some would call it divine.

The immortal beings watched just a little longer, lichen-lips parted into smiles.

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tommysversion · 1 year

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dancing at a club and catching mafia! Joel's eye, suddenly feeling him pressed up against him feeling you up and being invited to a more private area. mafia joels got me feral never thought of him like that until now

( I honestly don’t know where this AU idea came from, anon, but it lives in my head rent free and I’m glad I’ve infected you with this brain rot too. )

CWs: age gap / guns / oral sex (m!recieving) / unprotected sex / violence / language / dirty talk

——

You’ve been trying to get into this club for weeks, trying your luck queueing outside every Friday night. Finally, you’ve gotten lucky, and god damn is it worth the wait. It’s the fanciest place you’ve ever been in, but you suppose that makes sense. You’ve heard that the place is owned by the local crime family, and that doesn’t surprise you at all.

A few drinks in and you’re not remotely worried about dancing in a mafia owned club. You also barely notice anyone around you, except him. He’s older, older than you, but built solid, with slicked back grey streaked hair, and impossibly dark eyes that are fixed on you, watching your every move.

After a while, you lose track of him, shake off the feeling of being watched, lose yourself in the pounding music, head foggy from alcohol and adrenaline. Eyes half closed, you sway to the music, the bass pounding through your body.

Solid hands settle on your waist, pull your back flush against a wall of muscle; someone’s chest. You can feel a gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, turn your head to see the older man from before smirking down at you.

“Don’t run, little rabbit.” His voice is low in your ear, but somehow still audible over the noise. There’s a slight drawl to his voice, the barest hint of an accent.

Even though every nerve in your body should be screaming at you to run, you don’t, instead press back against the man, let him run his hands over your body. You recognise him now, vaguely. You think his name is Joel, think he’s one of the enforcers for the family.

“How about we go somewhere a little quieter, hm?”

You know you should say no, but somehow you’re not so sure he’s the sort of man who takes no for an answer. And besides… you’re curious. He’s hot as hell, and dangerous, and you’re not the smartest when it comes to avoiding dangerous situations. So you let him wrap an arm around your waist and guide you from the crowded dance floor, down the hallway to one of the VIP rooms.

The music is still thumping over the speakers, but this room is much nicer, plush velvet couches and thick black carpet, walls painted black and accented with gold, dimly lit.

Joel sits himself down on one of the couches, pulls you onto his lap, draws out his gun and sets it to the side; still within arm’s reach, but not near you, ignoring it as his hand fists into your hair and drags you into a kiss. It’s rough and hungry, full of passion and need. You’ve never been kissed like this before, his hands roaming your body, pulling the tight skirt of your tiny dress up around your hips, hands kneading into the firm skin of your ass as he kisses you, makes your head spin with need for him. He pulls you against his body, grinding you down against the solid bulge in his jeans.

You whimper softly into his mouth at the feeling of him, at the thought of how big he must be.

“Very good, pretty girl.” His voice is low and husky, lips still slightly parted as he surveys you. “Now get on your knees for me. I know you want to.”

He’s right. You’re practically drooling over him, sliding from his lap to between his spread thighs in the time it takes him to unbuckle his belt, unzip his jeans, pull his hard cock out. Fuck, he’s big. Big and thick and so, so hard, just from watching you, just from kissing you.

You know he’s a dangerous man, would know it even if the gun sitting next to him wasn’t a very physical fucking reminder. And yet. And yet you tuck your hair behind your ears and lean in eagerly, taking him into your mouth, kissing and licking at the tip of him until he growls. Taking it as a warning, you slide him into your mouth, working your tongue around him as best you can, taking him deeper into your throat until you’re in danger of gagging.

He rocks into your throat almost lazily, those dark eyes fixated on you, one hand in your hair, the other resting on the gun beside him. Your jaw aches, your throat too full, but the look on his face is all the encouragement you need to keep going, until he pulls you roughly off of his cock, releases your hair.

“Get up here.”

You scramble to obey him, crawling back into his lap, your skirt still up around your waist. Your thin panties, or the scrap of lace that passes for panties, are absolutely soaked, and he can tell. Smirking, he tears them clean off you, yanks you right against his chest, tosses the ruined lace aside.

“Such a slutty little girl.” His fingers run along your soaked slit, dipping inside you, making you wriggle and whimper. “You know exactly what I am, but you still want me. Still sucked my cock like it was delicious.” He kisses your bare collarbone, amused when your eyes go back to the gun beside him.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t hurt you.” He sucks a deep purple mark into your throat. “Can’t promise I won’t make you scream for me, though.”

He lifts you like you’re nothing, lines you up before he pulls you down roughly onto his cock, letting you sink down onto him, feeling every inch as it disappears inside you. You bury your fingers in the denim of his shirt, digging your nails in as you brace yourself.

“That’s it…” his head falls back against the wall, exhaling softly as he feels you tightening around him. “Take it…”

And you do, addicted almost instantly to how he fills you, rolling your hips against him, riding him almost desperately in time to the music pounding through the walls. There’s power in knowing who he is, what he is, and having him beneath you, hearing him moan for you.

Not that you can stay smug for long; his hands plant on your waist, keeping you still as he ruts up against you, hard and fast, hitting your sweet spot. All you can do is cling to him, crying out when his rough hand slaps your ass, one side then the other.

“Please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for; permission, maybe? You somehow know he won’t like if it you climax without his say so. It’s hard to hold it back though, and he knows it.

“Go on, princess.” He nuzzles into your throat, kisses the mark he’s left on you. “Go ahead and cum all over my cock.”

You whimper at the filthy words, at the gentle touch, and the feeling of him deep inside you; you take the permission though, letting go entirely, your entire body shaking as your release washes over you. It’s been far too long since you’ve gotten laid, and why not admit it? He’s fucking good.

He knows it, too, but he’s too focused on chasing his own release to be smug about it, holding you in place with one hand, the other snaking around your throat as he bucks up into you, harder and faster, filling you with hot thick ropes of his release before he can stop himself, cursing under his breath the entire time.

He rests his head on your shoulder, considerate enough to let you regain your breath before he snags your phone from your bra, enters a number into your contacts, all without shifting you from his lap, keeping you seated on his cock.

“Next time you need to be fucked properly, princess? You give me a call.”

You nod, still dazed, beyond words.

It doesn’t occur to you until the next morning, nursing a major hangover, that the enforcer of the local fucking mafia has given you his number, implied he wants to see you again. What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

#answered #my writing #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #mafia!joel #Pedro Pascal

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catt-leya · 1 year

Text

Fucking Brat || Rick Grimes 18+

This one was requested by an anon and I think it's not my best work but anyways I'm wishing you a lot of fun hihi 💗

Summary: Rick and you aren't going along well because you can't accept him as your leader. Until you catch him masturbating and he shows you what you'll have to do to get fucked by him.

Trigger: throat fucking, degrading, humiliation, dirty talk, masturbation and my usual smutty stuff

The sun burns pleasantly on your skin as you sit on the grass in front of the prison and let yourself fall onto your back.

It's been a long time since you've had a moment to yourself since you and your people joined the group in this prison.

It's not that it's a bad place and you're forced to work hard, but in the world you live in now, hard work is inevitable. Everyone has to do their part and you too have your hands full most of the time.

That's why you enjoy every little free moment you can get, especially now when no one else is in your immediate vicinity either.

For a long time you were outside with your people and it was important to always have someone around to protect each other, but when Rick found you a few weeks ago, a lot of things changed.

Rick.

The man who's been acting like the man in charge around here and has driven you up the wall more than once.

You understand the position he holds with the people who have lived here for some time, but just because he gives them orders and they are obeyed doesn't mean you will immediately comply either. When you lived in the forest, they were your people and they still are.

At least they are to you.

During the first few weeks, your people still asked your opinion when Rick ordered something, but the more time has passed, the less frequent the visits have become and you realize that they have accepted Rick as their leader.

That butthead.

The more they all defer to him and his bullshit speeches, the more you kick around and usually do the exact opposite of what Rick asks.

You'll do almost anything to get on his nerves while maintaining your pride.

It's gorgeous to see how close you can get Rick to the brink of insanity and sometimes blow a few fuses on him. The good thing is that while Rick is an ass, he's certainly not a wife beater. That's why you're not afraid to let him go nuts and didn't even flinch the one time he rammed his fist into the wall next to you.

Sure, Rick is taller and wider than you, but you're certainly not afraid of him.

Even as a shadow slips in front of the sun that was warm on your skin, you don't flinch.

Instead, you open your eyes, blinking, and immediately roll them when you see Rick standing in front of you.

Rick clenches his teeth tightly as you arrogantly raise your eyebrows and grumble, "You're standing in my sun, asshole."

Oh God, those words alone make his body shake with tension.

He hates how you lie on the grass in front of him and look up, only to make it sound like you're superior to him anyway.

He hates how you never do what he asks of you and always put him to the test.

He hates how fucking hot you look in that tight top, which shows off your breasts ridiculously well as you sit up and shoo him aside with your hand to get back to the sun that's now warming his own back.

With anyone else, he'd take a step back now, but with you, he only builds himself up more, completely blocking out the sun.

You stroke your hair on your face and he notices how he starts to stare, but that's when you open your mouth and no matter what you're going to say now, every bit of attraction to you is going to suck out of his bones.

Yeah, you're hot, but you don't know when to shut up, "Are you just standing here to bug me now, or do you have something specific you want to tell me?"

You watch him push his chin up a little and sigh out loud. Especially with you, he always lets the leader hang out and plays damn often with his physical superiority over you.

Yes, he's a good bit taller, and yes, he has a natural aura that makes him seem competent, which makes people listen to him when he talks, but that doesn't mean you'd ever defer to him.

You can hold your nose just as high as he can. Well, not literally, but metaphorically.

Rick looks at you from narrowed eyes, "If you did what I wanted you to do, we wouldn't be having this conversation at all."

You know exactly what he means, but bat your eyelashes innocently, "You gave me an order? I didn't catch that at all. Usually, in your presence, I only hear such a low and penetrating whirring. Hmmm, that must have been it."

You drop back onto your back, "But don't worry, my ears are otherwise perfectly fine, so it must be you."

You can literally feel Rick's body vibrating with anger and can't suppress a grin.

Rick squeezes his fists so tight his knuckles are sticking out white and he growls, "You do what I tell you."

"Nope," you let the "p" pop and know he's about to lose it, so you stretch out on the grass and calmly say, "I'll ride with Daryl."

Still Rick is shielding the sun and you feel like you won't get much of the slowly setting sun soon.

It's disturbingly quiet for a moment and you look to his tall stature.

He looks like he's having to decide whether to jump down your throat or rather throw you to the walkers as he says creepily quietly, "You're going to climb that damn tower and do the shift I assigned you to."

You'd never admit it out loud, but a slight chill coats your arms at the pitch of his voice and you clear your throat quietly, "You know, maybe I'd consider going up on the tower, except I also know you have absolutely nothing to do today and might as well take over while I go off with Daryl."

Rick lets his gaze slide over your small body, wondering if he'd be quick enough to grab you and throw you over his shoulder to take you to the lookout tower single-handedly.

It's clear you'd be kicking around and calling him the nastiest names, but that way you'd finally do your job and submit.

Annoyed, he puts his hands on his hips, "I've got enough on my plate and arguing with you is just taking up unnecessary time. YOUR job is the lookout tower, not mine."

Snottily you reply, "Because YOU assigned me."

He groans and puts his head back because, unfortunately, that takes your mind off things for a moment.

Rick has a nice neck.

In fact, he's really gorgeous in general, and you'd be lying if you said your little caboodle didn't turn you on a little.

You watch him as he growls, struggling for composure, "Just do it and don't act like a fucking brat."

Your eyebrows go up and he stares at you again with his blue eyes, "I have to take care of my people here, after all, and that means everyone has their jobs to do to keep us safe."

You clench your teeth and slowly straighten up to at least not look quite so small next to him, "Your people? It's MY group. MY family and you're acting like an asshole."

He takes a step toward you so you can feel his breath on your cheek as he leans down to you and hisses, "You lost them when you stepped through the gate. They've accepted that everything works when there's a chain of command and that's how you can ensure everything goes right. So get used to it already."

You jerk your head around and stare at him with a deadly stare.

Normally you're never at a loss for words, but right now, you don't know what to say other than "Son of a bitch" and you turn around to look for Daryl.

You're not going to do shit and you're certainly not going to stand on the lookout tower.

Rick watches you stomp away.

Your hips swing from right to left and he can't stop staring at your ass. At least this way he doesn't have to think about how good you smelled when he was just this close to you.

Shit, he's sure you'll never go to that lookout tower and is actually forced to take your shift now, even though he promised Beth he'd practice shooting with her. But then she'll have to wait for tomorrow, because he's now stomping off to the tower in his turn, and when he gets to the top, he slams the door.

He doesn't care at all that the door swings open a little crack again in the process, and he sits down furiously on the chair that is supposed to make the shifts more comfortable.

With his arms crossed, he sits there and stares out into the forest.

Why the hell can't you just realize that you have to listen to him?

You're acting like a fucking brat and shit, he's dying to put you in your place.

He doesn't even notice as he loosens his arms at the thought and reaches over his pants for his hardening cock.

He wants you to crawl before him and finally do what he wants you to do.

He reaches harder for his cock.

He wants you to look up at him with your big eyes and ask him if there's anything else you can do for him.

Rick winces briefly as he realizes what he's doing with his hand and who he's thinking about.

But instead of stopping, he curses harshly and tugs at the belt of his pants.

The thought of you kneeling in front of him with your mouth open, begging for him to fuck your mouth, never leaves his mind and he pulls his pants down to his thighs and reaches again for his cock, which is now slapping against his stomach.

Rick moans hoarsely as he runs his hand down his length, thinking of how you would look at him and breathe his name.

Your name slips from his lips as his hand speeds up.

What he doesn't know is that a guilty conscience is starting to get the best of you, because Rick wasn't wrong about the division of labor and that's why you let Daryl know you wouldn't be accompanying him after all.

Instead, you go to the lookout tower where Rick must have taken your shift and even though it goes against the grain, you want to apologize to him.

You're certainly not going to grovel before him and beg for his forgiveness, but you do owe him an honest apology.

So you climb the stairs and see that the door is only ajar.

You frown in confusion when you hear your name.

Actually, he shouldn't have seen you yet, but with Rick, many things are possible, so you shrug and pull open the door to the room.

The door doesn't make a sound and that's why Rick doesn't hear you stop rooted to the spot as he thrusts his hips up, thinking about fucking your pussy.

Again he curses harshly and moans your name as you take a step back and loudly ram the door frame.

Rick flinches and jerks his head around, his hand still wrapped around his cock.

You stare down at his crotch and just can't take your eyes off it.

Fuck, he's big.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier," you barely recognize your own voice and speak to his cock, which you're still staring at.

He should be slumping in shame, but his heart is still beating way too fast and your eyes, completely focused on his cock, are only turning him on more.

He sees you blush and a crazy idea takes shape in his head.

Instead of pulling up his pants and panting at you to get you to go away, he just keeps looking at you and slowly continues to jerk off.

The fact that he doesn't have to imagine you anymore only makes the feeling that much more intense, and he has to pull himself together to keep from groaning out loud when he asks hoarsely, "You wanted to apologize for acting like a brat?"

You barely notice his snooty choice of words and nod silently, no longer trusting your own voice.

Your eyes follow Rick's fist and the urge to touch him grows stronger.

Roughly, he says your name and you can't suppress a soft whimper.

Shit, when did you get so weak?

"Yes?" your voice is, as you expected, way too high to sound normal.

You should leave.

You should turn around and pretend you didn't see anything.

Like you didn't see the best dick in the world.

Like you didn't see Rick jerking off while thinking about you.

You should go.

He runs his thumb over his tip, which is glistening wetly, and growls, "Come here."

Only now do you look him in the face again, and the excitement you see in it makes you tremble, "What?"

The door is only a step away, but you just can't move and he knows it. You could have left by now, but instead you're still there.

Rick lets his eyes wander over your body, then hisses, "Come here and apologize properly."

Your head is screaming to go. It screams to turn around and defy him again, but your body does what it wants.

With soft knees, you walk up to Rick and stop in front of him.

His normally bright eyes, are noticeably darker now that you are standing so close to him and he lets go of his cock.

Immediately your eyes are back on his crotch and he pushes his legs a little further apart, "On your knees."

A thousand thoughts buzz in your head and he sees your hesitation.

Sluggishly, he tilts his head and repeats with dangerous pressure, "You get on your fucking knees now or I'll make you."

He doesn't touch you, but you flinch and fall to your knees in front of him.

With huge eyes you look at him and he can't believe how easily he can direct you.

Usually you fight him off with everything you've got, but right now you're looking at him like you're just waiting to get the next command from him.

And that turns him on so much that he could cum at the slightest touch from you.

Your whole body is electrified and you bend over to reach his cock with your lips, but he's faster and grabs you by the hair.

Just inches from his cock, he yanks you back and that puts some clear thoughts in your head about what you're doing.

Completely overwhelmed, you don't know whether to pull away from him to get away, or try again to get his cock in your mouth and let him cum down your throat.

Do you even have a choice?

You blink frantically, realizing how you're panicking from this unfamiliar submissive you've never known on you before.

Your voice is squeaky as you whine, "Rick, I-" your voice breaks and he mocks you softly, "Use complete sentences."

Oh god it's so humiliating as you actually try to get at his cock again, but his grip is so tight you miss a few inches that make him laugh harshly, "Look at you. Have such a need to suck my cock that you're about to start crying. That's just how I always wanted to see you."

Your voice is low and weak, "Stop talking to me like that."

You squeeze your legs together, realizing how wet you already are.

At that, Rick raises an eyebrow and grins at you, "Oh, it turns you on? If you could just see yourself. Big mouth a minute ago and now all meek and on your knees in front of me, huh?"

You close your eyes and he pulls your hair, "That was a question I want you to answer now."

Shit, shit, shit. You should have gone with Daryl.

Muffled, you mumble, "Yeah."

It turns you on when he talks to you like that, and fuck actually, he always turns you on.

You scrape together the last bit of dignity you have left and look him in the eye, "You were jerking off thinking about me."

The setting sun casts long shadows in the tower, making the silence seem that much more oppressive.

Rick just looks at you and you brace your hands on his thighs to straighten up a bit and are actually a little surprised that he lets you and doesn't reprimand you again.

At the back of your head, he presses you closer to him and murmurs far too softly, "I was thinking about how I was going to break you."

An unusual sound slips from your lips and by then he's already pressing your face to his cock, "Suck."

Willingly, you open your lips and let Rick push you down on his cock.

With your eyes closed you try to relax your throat to get as much of him in your mouth as you can and you hear him moan harshly.

Your mouth is warm and wet and his eyes roll into the back of his head as he pushes the tip against your throat.

Once he's sure you're going to suck him off, he releases the back of your head and crosses his arms behind his head to watch you do it under lowered lashes.

Your small hands cling to his thighs and you keep taking him so deep into your mouth, as if your life depended on your nose bumping against his pubic bone again and again.

His leg muscles tighten and he growls, "That's a decent apology. Plugging your pert mouth is the right thing to do, don't you think?"

Your words make you moan around his cock and you look up at him with tears in your eyes.

He looks down at you as he did before in the meadow, only now you don't have a clever line in store, instead you dig your fingers deeper into his legs and run your tongue over the prominent vein on his cock.

With a jerk, he pushes his hips further toward you and then grabs your hair again to tug you off his cock.

Pathetically, you try to lick him again and at the sight, he hisses, "Fuck."

Your lips are swollen and you realize your throat will be overstimulated tomorrow, but you mumble softly anyway, "Let me keep going."

He sits up a little, "What was that?"

His cock shines wet from your saliva and you try again, "Please, let me keep doing it."

Mockingly, Rick grins at you, "Are you begging to suck my cock right now?"

It almost physically hurts, but you nod and he rewards you with, "Good girl." And pulls you back to your feet, "Show me how wet you are for me."

Rick stares at your pants, but you don't know what he means by that and when you don't respond he sighs, "Take off your pants and show me your cunt."

At the last word you wince, but do what he asks and that you follow his orders makes his eyes glisten with pleasure and when you then also stand half naked in front of him and wait, he can no longer deny himself the comment: "You're pathetic. You already realize that, don't you? Just had to see my cock and gone is any resistance from you."

Your pussy clenches excitedly and that he talks to you like that makes you tremble again.

Never would you ever let someone talk to you like that, but Rick has this innate aura of respect and the more he talks to you like that, the easier it is for you to accept his superiority in that regard.

Shit, you actually enjoy him doing that to you.

You bite your lower lip as he murmurs, "Show me."

Jesus.

Slowly, you spread your legs a little, and you know your thighs are already glistening. It feels so dirty to feel his gaze right there.

You feel so incredibly vulnerable, and you see Rick's cock twitch as you slide a finger through your wetness and hold it out to him so he can see how wet you are for him.

He sees your knees shake and lifts his chin a little, "That's good and now you do exactly what I want you to do and then you'll get what you need from me."

With your heart pounding you nod and he grins dangerously at you and the way he looks at you makes you nervous.

It looks like he's about to pounce on you as he leans in and purrs, "I want to see you vulnerable. Humiliated and pathetic."

Rick wants everything from you.

He wants to break you, and he knows what will be enough humiliation for you.

His tongue darts across his bottom lip, "Hold your cunt open with your hands while I fuck you."

The words rush through your body and he looks at you sharply, "Do you understand or is it just another buzz in that pretty little head of yours?"

"No, I mean yes...I" you get the words stuck in your throat and he tilts his head slightly, "If you play dumb and let go then I will continue to use you to cum in your cunt, but you will not. If you're a good little girl, I'll let you cum on my cock."

You hesitate and he hisses, "Go on, or I'll fuck you and you'll get nothing out of it."

Your hands shake as you frantically climb onto his lap and reach between your legs with your hands.

The smacking sound as you open your lower lips with your hands is so incredibly humiliating that your cheeks grow hot and he laughs mockingly, "Just the prospect of my cock in your cunt makes you so fucking compliant. What did I struggle so hard to get you to do your assigned work when all I had to do was fuck you to make you my whore."

Your mouth is slightly open and you fall forward a bit before he holds you up by your shoulders so you stay upright and he pushes you down on his cock.

You feel his cock against your fingers as it presses into your spread cunt and you groan far too loudly to be considered decent anymore.

Your first reflex would be to release your hands and hold onto Rick, but you dare not let go of your pussy as he puts his hands on your hips and fucks you as promised.

He's big and hard inside you and almost makes you pass out.

Rick is so...good.

He's so fucking good and without warning you lean forward and press your swollen lips to his parted from moaning.

Kissing him is like a drug as he moves you on his cock the way he likes and you are wide open for him.

His voice is rough and husky, "You're inviting me to fuck you."

It's true.

It's humiliating and fucking hot to present yourself to him like this, and your pussy throbs hard on his cock as he continues to take you, growling, "This is my pussy, you understand?"

You breathe weakly, "Yours." And he penetrates you harder and deeper.

Your pussy is so fucking wet that he can barely think straight and slips almost completely out of you every time.

As he feels you clench tighter and tighter around him, he knows you're about to cum and lowers his lips to your neck to suck on it, eliciting a fucking loud moan of his name from you, "Rick...Oh God, I can't hold it in. I..."

He growls, "Beg me and when I'm satisfied, you can cum."

His thrusts get messier and you howl, "Please, please, please. May I cum?"

Rick's cock twitches, "Will you do what I ask of you from now on?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

He laughs, "Always resisting me, but when my cock is in your pathetic cunt, you suddenly become quite compliant, huh?"

The knot in your stomach becomes almost unbearable and you squeeze your eyes tight when he finally says, "Now."

With the first wave, your pussy clenches so hard that you almost crush him, pulling him with you.

Your body tears up and you release your hands to grab Rick's cheeks and turn his head so that you're kissing him hard and desperately.

You swallow his harsh moan as he comes inside you and you frantically ride out your climaxes, getting as much as you can.

Shivering, you collapse on top of him and press your nose into his neck to catch your breath and take in his scent.

Fuck, he smells so good.

Surprisingly gentle, he puts his hands on your back and pulls you closer to him, his cock still lingering inside you.

You're afraid to look him in the face after letting him do this to you, not knowing what's going to happen now.

Slowly Rick's hands slide to your round butt and squeeze lightly, "You're going to do your shift here on the tower, understand?"

Of course he would want you to.

After all, it's been your job and now he can always tease you about begging to cum on his cock as you held your pussy wide open for him like a cheap whore.

Tears well up in your eyes from shame, "Yeah, you can go do what you wanted to do in the first place, Rick."

He feels your body stiffen and has to laugh softly, "Relax. I'm staying here too."

Surprised, you lift your head and look into his blue eyes, "Yeah?"

His gaze slides down your face to your neck where there is now a dark hickey and nods again, "I'm not going anywhere."

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @revesephemeres @emo-potato-virgil @tropodyn @mrsashleybarnes18-blog @igotbasicdrag @starsaroundmyscxrss @moonshine147 @1-800-isabellapotter @starkstiless @marvelfan789 @eternalrose81 @daryl-dixons-crazy-woman @darylsonlylove @your-shifting-gurl @strnqer

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes smut #twd x reader #twd #the walking dead #request #andrew lincoln

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ickadori · 3 days

Note

Back bc im not okay <///3

Naoya so uptight and clan this and family that- he has no time for sex!!! Him getting a taste of pussy for the first time after you seduce him and you're thinking he's gonna be uptight and vanilla but he gives it to you nasty, spitting on your tits, slapping your pussy, making you suck his balls after he nut in you uhhhhhhh he definitely gets addicted and ur pussy is his now :3 i just know the dirty talk would be immaculate and its literally just him being his asshole self

-chosos loyal and unquestionable everloving bbg anon 🙈 (can u see the brainworms ur last drabble gave meeee)

fully stand behind the fact that naoya is a gross individual in the bedroom.

the man was always busy with something, whether it was killing curses, dealing with necessary clan bullshit, or being his usual cheery self to everyone around him, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about getting his dick wet.

it occupied his mind more than he cared to admit - the thought of sinking into something warm, wet, tight, soft, fuck. watching porn was a frequent occurrence, usually in the dead of the night after he finally dragged himself back to the estate after a tiring day.

he’d search for a video that got his skin hot and his tip leaky, too tired to get mad at the fact that the actress starring in it looked damn near identical to you, and shuck his pants down before wrapping a calloused hand around his hardening cock.

porn is always graphic, fucking obviously, but the porn he tends to watch is always a bit more…vulgar. it borders on being too much - too much spit, too much cum, too much squirt, too much noise. it’s messy, how wet those sluts cunts get while a cock is fucking into them (would you get that wet? pussy sticky and drippy just at the sight of him). it’s loud, the way their holes squelch when they’re getting fucked, and that tacky sound that rings out (would you be loud like that? pussy practically singing his praises while he’s making a mess in it).

he’s coming before he knows it, teeth gritted and muscles tensed to bite back a hiss of your name.

after that it’s just a matter of time and proximity. you’re always around - talking, laughing, smiling, existing, and he’s just a man, after all. he has his dick buried in you before he knows it, and he was hooked the moment he pulled your panties off and caught sight of what you were hiding between your thighs.

and he was a virgin, too, but you would have never known it, not with the way he hadn’t seemed the least bit hesitant when he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pushed your head down between his legs and smirked as he told you to ‘suck’. or the way he had pushed your breasts together, slotted his cock between the fleshy mounds, and lubricated you with spit and cum. or the way he had pulled his hand back and slapped at your pussy when you had squeezed him just right and nearly made him cum too early.

naoya is very much nasty. i think that doubles when his partner is shy or just not that experienced bc he likes to overwhelm them with the vulgarity of it all. he thinks it’s funny when he spits in their mouth and they flinch and frown before their eyes gloss over when they realize they like it. or the amazed, slightly horrified look they get when he shakes his cock in their face, a mix of his cum and theirs frothing on the base, and demands that they lick him clean. or the squeals and sobs they let out when he’s sucking his cum out of their hole and making them have a taste.

#++ choso’s bbg anon #naoya x reader #CONDOLENCES AND LOVE OR HOWEVER IT GOES #AFTER THE RECENT CHAP #🤭🤭#his dirty talk is filthy i’m certain #but if you know me you know dirty talk is not my forte 🙂‍↔️#i would never subject yall to that 🙂‍↔️#ball sucking is smth i m very passionate about #i need to get on that stat

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optimist-pine · 2 months

Note

for a little daryl blurb: color, a dark dusty blue. like clouds during a thunderstorm; lyric, “I owe you a black eye and two kisses.” (crush by ethel cain); noun, remedy.

hopefully there’s some inspiration in there <3

Storm

Warnings: Typical TWD stuff, violence, injury, dark thoughts, implied death

Word Count: 1,085

Era: Unspecific

A/n: Sooo I only re-wrote this like 8 times... Thanks for the request, Anon! Sorry it took so long.

Brakes slam hard with a rusty screech, tires striving for traction on the flooded road. The rain-soaked bark of a fallen tree stares back at you through the windshield, nearly fully obscured by the sheets of water that pour steadily from the sky.

Daryl bangs a fist into the steering wheel with a grumbled, "Damn." You both peer out into the torrent, watching as dark dusty blue clouds roll in fast and low. Hail begins to slam against the windows of the car, half-deafening in its full fury. He turns the engine off and the clangs only grow louder without competition. "Can't see fer'shit anyway."

The intensity isn't just out there beyond the glass - it swells within you, powerful and destructive. Being home soon is the only thing that's kept the thoughts from lingering, but now they're beginning to make a home, rooting themselves deep down into your aching heart.

The wind is picking up, rocking the car with jerky bursts as thunder rumbles loudly nearby. The storm is moving fast and hard and you'll be in the heart of it soon. You try to distract yourself, watching the way treetops bend and bow against the gusts; branches and leaves whipping past, assaulting the vehicle on their way through.

Daryl rummages around the backseat, then pulls the dead man's pack into his lap. Your eyes squeeze themselves shut, fingers wrapping tightly around the door handle. If you try hard enough you can imagine you're on the open seas somewhere far away, deck rocking beneath your feet as salty spray splashes your cheeks. Not confined. Not stuck here with nothing to do but replay the past again, and again, and again. After everything, all of it, it doesn't make sense. Something is wrong with you. That's it.

"It's okay." He says softly. "Ya did what ya had ta'."

Your eyelids crack open, and of course, your gaze glues itself to the blooming, still-darkening skin. It's gonna be one helluva black eye.

"What'aya think? Red my color?" You ask, jokingly holding the ridiculously glitzy dress up against yourself.

He barely spares a grunt, not bothering to even turn around. He's too focused on whatever's in the backseat of the old sedan.

You drop the garment with an exasperated sigh. "Oh, come on. It's no fun if you don't even tu-" A blinding pain explodes across your temple and you hit the ground hard, vision spinning and ears ringing.

You stare at rivulets of rain on the glass. "He was unarmed. I didn't have to, but I did."

"Ya were protectin' me." He replies.

You manage to crawl onto your hands and knees as sticks and stones dig into you; everything's muffled except for the thud of your heartbeat. The sounds of a brawl gradually reach your ears, fists beating into flesh, raw growls, and scuffling gravel.

Daryl's pinned under a wild man whose fists ceaselessly lay into him. Blood is flowing, spittle flying, as his back is pressed down into the rocky roadside.

You shake your head. "I don't know. Maybe I wasn't."

"Ya did." He says firmly. "He attacked us, and ya had my back."

A switch is flipped. The pain in your head is now a hot, boiling rage. This man - this, this threat needs to be ended. He needs to die.

"That's not who I want to be." Your eyes flick to his, but the understanding within them stings, so you pull away to look at the dirty floormat. "I can't-"

"Ya aren't. An' ya won't. If ya hadn't, maybe I wouldn't be sittin' here." He says bluntly.

The power shifts and Daryl has the upper hand now. The other man struggles against the fingers wrapped around his throat.

The pistol is light in your hand. You see it, that flash of panic in his eyes. When his hands fall away from Daryl's neck. When he opens his mouth to speak. But you don't care.

A tear slips its way down your cheek. The anger it's... suffocating...

His battered hand reaches up, brushing away the hair that hangs between the world and your matching swollen eye. His touch is ever so gentle, careful not to bump the tender flesh. Something new sparks in that moment, where his fingertips brush your ear, a trickle of contentment seeps into your soul. The rough edges are smoothed - the chill no longer bites, the pain doesn't scream, and the past relents and releases its hold upon you.

You take his hand in yours, softly pressing bruised knuckles to your chapped lips. Can he feel it too? His eyes reflect such a muddle of emotions, and for the first time, you aren't confident in deciphering what they say.

The longer you study him, it's as if you've become magnetized, gravitating, being pulled in, and before you know it you're inches away... centimeters... you push aside dark hair, and your lips once again touch his skin as close to the damage as you dare.

You pull back slowly and search his eyes again; you have no idea what you're doing. He's breathing heavily, eyes darting to your lips and back up. And then he leans forward quick as a bolt and your lips touch his skin for the third time. He kisses you deeply and yet so sweetly, hand sliding up your jaw and below your ear to steady you. Your own fingers settle at the nape of his neck, tangling in soft locks.

The longer his lips are on yours, the more a peace you've never known before pours into you, washing over every sore and tired place. If you'd known the sort of remedy contained in his kisses you'd have done it so much sooner.

A CRACK booms through the air so powerfully that you jolt apart, bumping noses as you do. You can't hold back the giggle that escapes, your heart pounding in your heaving chest. Daryl's no better off, panting and wide-eyed.

You've come to forget the terror of anything without a human silhouette, but the storm rages on, frightening and fierce. Watching it for a moment while your heart calms, another streak of lightning and earth-rattling rumble rave.

You turn back to Daryl, noticing the telltale shifting of his feet and chewing of his lip. He's nervous. Hell, so are you. But you've tapped into a newfound confidence. An assurance that all you need is him close to you. The rest will take care of itself.

"Wanna do it again?" You whisper.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #optimist pine

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typingatlightspeed · 7 days

Note

if you're still taking not-smut requests, may i please request some dullahan!solly hanging out with djinni!pyro?

TF2 Fanfic - Accelerant

While some of the team plays ball, Pyro watches and has a think. Soldier joins him, and they talk about Engie's body modifications, Pyro's evolving feelings on them, and the nature of their extreme age gap and lifespan difference. Then they build a potato cannon. They talk a little about Soldier's relationship with Scout, but mostly a bit of mayhem ensues.

Part of Monstrous Intent! Ao3 Link! Rating: Teen (there's like one sex joke lol)

I hope you enjoy, anon! This one stymied me for a bit up to the point where Soldier suggested the potato gun, then the final gag with Soldier's head popped into my brain on the drive home from work, and I was like, "THAT'S IT THAT'S THE GAG" and the rest came naturally. :D

---------

"Yo! Come on, Snipes, I'm open!"

"Bombs away!" Sniper lined up his shot and fired off the football in his hand, launching it for Scout with surprising force moments before Demoman collided with him, tackling him to the dirt.

"Dammit!" Engineer cursed, chasing the pass, knowing there was no way he'd get there in time to intercept, but hoping he could at least bring Scout down before he made any forward progress.

Scout caught the ball easily, eyeing up his options for approach, and took off for the area that had been marked as Engineer and Demoman's goal by setting up a cooler and a particularly large rock and drawing a line in the gravel between with a shovel. He bounded across the desert floor, grinning as Engineer charged for him, intent on bringing him to the ground. With a grunt, he kicked off the ground, vaulting Engineer in one leap, his hoof tapping the shorter man's hard hat and launching him into a second-stage jump, carrying him well past any hope of being caught. He sped into the end zone and spiked the ball, prancing in a circle and pumping his fists to the sky. "Woo! Now that's how it's done! Eat my dust, Hardhat!"

"Damn double-jumpin' jackrabbit," Engineer cursed with a pout. He shot a glare at Demoman, who was now quite busy pinning Sniper to the ground and tickling his neck with his muttonchops. "Dammit, Demo, we're tryin' to play a ballgame, here!"

"Yeah, play games with Snipes' balls off 'a the field, you mook," Scout teased, snatching the ball back up and trotting over.

"D'ye want Scout, then?" Demoman offered to Engineer, sitting up on his knees and letting Sniper wheeze in a breath between diminishing laughs.

"'Least he's tryin' to play the damn game," Engineer reasoned, tossing Scout a look and shaking his head.

"How 'bout we take five, get some water, an' let these two get the giggles out?" Scout asked, jerking his thumb at Demoman and Sniper. "I'll go grab my basketball. Football ain't shit with only four players."

"Yeah, that's fair."

"Sure you'll be good for basketball, Truckie?" Sniper asked, sitting up and shoving Demoman off of himself.

Engineer glared at Sniper, knowing exactly the dig he was about to make. "Stretch, dunks ain't the entire game. Ain't gotta be a giant to sink three-pointers."

"Dibs on Engie," Scout announced immediately. "Robot hand's gotta be an unfair advantage!"

High above, Pyro sat on one of the catwalks above the base, watching his teammates mill around and grab bottles of water from the cooler. He hoped that this wasn't the end of their game. It had been entertaining to watch Scout, Sniper, and Engineer actually trying while Demoman was intent on turning it into a game of grab-ass rather than actual sport. All the same he giggled watching the bomber pull his lover into a kiss before being swatted with his hat playfully and having water dumped on his head. As Scout trotted inside, Engineer unclipped his overalls to remove his work shirt, fanning himself. He cracked open his water and poured a little on himself before taking a swig, looking up in surprise upon hearing Pyro whistle from above. He grinned upon seeing him wave from the catwalk, and waved back.

The distant burst and whoosh of an explosion caught Pyro's attention from behind, and he turned to see Soldier sailing up into the air, fresh off a rocket jump. He nearly overshot the catwalk, landing at first on the railing before turning on his toe and hopping down far more nimbly than expected of a man his size.

Pyro half-turned, waving to him. "Hey Soldier!"

"Hello Pyro!" Soldier greeted brightly. He set his launcher down against the railing and ambled over to sit down beside Pyro, letting his legs dangle off the catwalk and kicking his feet idly. "What are you up to?"

"Hanging out. Thinking, mostly."

"What about?"

Pyro looked down at Engineer, who had clipped his overalls back into place and was currently holding the basketball as Scout stripped his shirt off, the two of them clearly taking team Skins for their little two on two game. They headed over to where their makeshift hoop of a bottomless milk crate nailed to a board had been hung on the edge of the porch overlooking a concrete paddock and set up to play. "Engie, mostly," he replied, a sigh in his voice.

"He is pretty dreamy. You should ask him out," Soldier teased.

Pyro snorted a laugh at that. "I dunno, I think he might be out of my league. You know the guy's got eleven PhDs?"

Soldier frowned. "Sounds fake." Another snorting laugh rewarded him, making his grin return immediately. "So what's Engie got you thinking about?" he asked, turning his gaze down to the game below.

"Ah, he's working on a new 'upgrade' to his body. A new spine. First stage of a full endoskeletal conversion project, so he says."

Soldier looked to Pyro and stared blankly.

"He's gonna replace all of his bones with metal ones eventually," Pyro explained.

"That botherin' you still?" "A little," Pyro admitted. "A lot less than before, though. I understand a lot more about his prosthetics, how they work, why I don't see the glamour in them like I do other things he builds. They're really clever, actually! In addition to making it so they obey his commands by a mix of reading muscle impulses and magical will-working, they're powered basically by pulling ambient magic out of the air, which is a completely sustainable fuel source. The Conaghers have been doing magic artifice for generations without even realizing it, because they've been accidentally blending magic into their technology. It's why nobody's been able to replicate their designs. The Australium is the key resource that makes it all come together, with its arcanoconductivity."

Soldier picked at his ear with his pinky finger, about half of what Pyro was saying flying directly over his head to go crash and burn somewhere in the desert. "So what's the problem?"

"I dunno, I guess I still have a lot of trouble getting past the fact that he's removing perfectly good flesh and bone for this, taking himself apart, you know?"

"Doc adds and removes stuff from us all the time," Soldier pointed out, lifting a finger into the air in an imitation of the doctor's mannerisms.

"Yeah, but at least it's usually internal so I don't notice."

"So are a spine and bones."

"But his entire legs and hand weren't. And once he finishes with bones, you can guarantee he's gonna work outward from there."

"Fair." Soldier let out a long breath through his nose, his brain churning. "Hadn't Engie been complaining about his back for as long as we've known him?"

"He does do a lot of lifting."

"Worn out, busted."

"Doesn't sleep great some nights."

"Can't sit too long."

"Practically eats aspirin."

"Ice packs."

"Heat packs."

"The way he smells like tiger balm after a real long match."

"He's strong as an ox, but he's in his mid-forties," Pyro sighed.

"It's not really perfectly good flesh and bone then, huh?"

"Guess you're right." Pyro leaned his forehead against the railing, flames creeping around the metal bar a bit. "He's in a lot of pain a lot of the time. This'd actually fix a problem rather than just do it for the sake of doing it, huh?"

"What's more practical than replacing the busted part?"

"You sound like Engie," Pyro chuckled.

"All I'm saying is that from what I've been told by people I've outlived is that the average red-blooded American man expects to just barely get past seventy years if he doesn't give his life in glorious battle first. Engie's more than halfway through that. He's probably trying to make himself last as long as he can. After all, he doesn't have the luxury of already being dead, like me!" Soldier jerked a thumb at himself with a grin.

Pyro chuckled and shook his head. Soldier was too good at making a solid point when he wanted to be. All the same, he didn't like being reminded about how short the rest of Engineer's life would be. "I'm ageless, eternal," he sighed, his eyes following Engineer's movements as he juked Demoman right off of his feet and sunk a two-pointer with ease. "I'm gonna outlive him. Just like I outlive everyone."

"How many human partners have you buried?"

"Too many. I don't know if I can do it again. But I know I'll have to."

Soldier hated to see his friend wilt like this, pain written clearly across his flaming face. "Maybe that's something Engie can prevent? He's smart enough."

"Short of becoming something supernatural, no human has, Soldier."

"You said it yourself that his cyber-stuff is basically magic, right? Maybe he'll build himself a new body that'll never grow old or break down so long as he keeps fixing it up! With the strength of five gorillas, and an ass that physically cannot quit!"

Pyro barked a laugh at that, his giggles fading into a soft hum. "Maybe so. Guess it's time we have that conversation, huh?"

"You haven't talked about all that?" "Not so much, no. It's not exactly fun to think about it."

"Got me there."

The sounds of Scout shit-talking Sniper's terrible free throw filled the silence.

Soldier looked back to Pyro again. "You wanna make a potato cannon?"

Pyro looked at him with all of the severity of a man about to realize his life's calling. "Hell yeah I do."

The bay door to Engineer's workshop rolled up, the sunlight momentarily blinding for Pyro and Soldier as they stepped out of the base. Soldier held a large plastic tube in his arms. It was long, and about an inch and a half diameter until it reached a connector after about two feet, and attached to a piece that was about three inches in diameter for its final foot.

"I'm surprised we didn't need to steal more from Engie."

"PVC pipe, connector, PVC cement to glue it all together, pipe cap, and a quick visit to the drill press, no problem," Pyro chuckled, shaking up a can of hair spray, a sack of potatoes firmly grasped in his other hand.

"Why did you have hairspray in your quarters, anyway?"

Pyro stared blankly at him like he'd asked the stupidest question in the world. He held out one finger, a soft glow heralding a small mote of flame springing to life at its tip. Without interrupting eye contact for even a moment, he held it up to the spray can and pressed down, the spray making the little fire into a gout of flame.

Soldier grinned. "Let's see if we can hit the Sword Van from here with it."

They set up on the edge of the paddock that led to the bay door, kneeling down and setting out their meager supplies. Pyro handed Soldier a potato, which he stuffed partway into the narrow barrel of the gun and tamped it onto the concrete to mash it in, the pipe shaving off any of the spud that didn't fit inside.

"Hey Soldier," Pyro began, popping the cap off of the hairspray can. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Okay."

"Where did you go that one furlough when we had that party at Engie's place?"

Soldier frowned, laying the potato cannon over his shoulder like a rocket launcher.

"If you don't want to—"

"I went to go see Ta—," he cleared his throat, "The RED Demoman."

Pyro pulled the cap off of the back end of the wide combustion chamber of the cannon. "I thought things were over between you two."

"It is. It was. Maybe. I dunno. We screwed. Almost felt like old times. But... he figured me out."

"What do you mean?"

"He guessed I wasn't human."

"Oh."

"I'd been afraid of that since day one. He didn't try to kill me on the spot, so it went better than expected, but not by much."

"I'm sorry, Sol."

"Don't be. Made me do some thinking for once. Realize what's important to me, and what I had right in front of me this whole time."

"Scout?"

Soldier smiled softly. "Yeah." He steadied his grip. "Light 'er up!"

With a nod, Pyro sprayed the hairspray into the combustion chamber and plugged it, then snapped his fingers to summon a spark inside, lighting the aerosol. With a soft kick and a THOOMP, the potato rocketed out of the pipe and streaked across the yard and parking lot, slamming into the side of the team's getaway van, bouncing off with a satisfying PWANG. Soldier and Pyro both whooped a laugh and high-fived.

"Reloading!" Soldier called, grabbing another potato and stuffing it into the pipe. He shouldered the cannon once again for Pyro to prep.

"You and Scout doing good, then?"

"Yes! He is not afraid of or disgusted by the fact that I am dead and can remove my head. Now that I have this collar," he flicked the metal ring that hung from the front of his Cephalophore's Collar, "he likes it even more. Mostly because I can screw him and blow him at the same time."

"Priorities," Pyro chuckled, uncapping the cannon.

"He's fun, and sweet, and gets that a fist fight can be a way to say I love you if you're both laughing when you do it. He makes me feel light inside. He makes me feel important. And wanted. And I don't have to hide anything."

"You don't realize how important that last part really is until you finally have it," Pyro mused. "I get it." He shook up the hairspray and sprayed it into the chamber.

"Yeah."

Pyro plugged the chamber. "Fire in the hole!" With a snap, a spark lit and with another THOOMP the potato was sent screaming across the lot to graze a different spot on the van with a WHUNG. "Haha, nice!"

"We should shoot something else."

"Sure, but what?"

Soldier rooted around in the bag for another potato and withdrew a wrinkled, soft one that was weeping liquid that smelled utterly vile. He recoiled for a moment before a wicked grin crossed his teeth. "I have an idea."

"I'm open! I'm open!" Scout hollered, waving his arms in the air.

Engineer craned around Sniper, who was doing his best to stay in his way and block the pass. He cast a look around, noticed one of the support beams of the porch, and grinned. "Port side, son!" He ducked under Sniper's armpit and shot the ball at the beam, bouncing it off and right into Scout's waiting hands. He drove for the hoop, leaping out of Demoman's grasp with ease for the dunk...

And was shot out of the air when a rotten potato slammed into his solar plexus.

Scout folded in on himself as he hurtled to the ground, landing in a heap, the ball forgotten. The stench of rotten potato filled his nose, and he had to fight the urge to gag as he gasped and tried to regain his breath, a sharp throb of pain sparking through his chest and belly. He wheezed, clawing at the ground, the noisome smell filling his senses and making his bile threaten to rise as he writhed.

Sniper's head whipped in the direction from whence it came, and he squinted, making out the shapes of Pyro and Soldier in the parking lot, rolling on the ground laughing. "Oi, you cunts! What's the big idea?!"

Pyro climbed to his knees and cupped his hands around his mouth to holler. "He okay?!"

"He smells bloody awful!" Demoman called back, trotting over to help the fallen faun to his hooves, dodging chunks of potato as he ripped his shirt off.

"Oh, I'm okay alright," Scout growled, then spit on the ground. When he saw Soldier he grinned. "They ain't, though!"

"Hey, Sol?" Pyro said, shaking Soldier, who was still laying on the pavement, shaking off giggles. "Sol. Sol, he's coming."

"Who's coming?"

"Scout's coming and he does not look like it's in peace."

Soldier rolled up into grinned broadly, throwing his arms wide. "How you like that mashed potato, Private?!"

"Ohhhh brother you're in for it now," Scout growled, diving at Soldier and sending the two of them tumbling out of the lot and into the dirt, fists flying, legs kicking, throwing up a cloud of dust as they brawled like it was an old cartoon.

Pyro set the hairspray down and quickly sidled out of sight and back into the base.

It was a few minutes before Sniper spotted Scout returning, shirtless, with a bloody nose and a cut above his eyebrow, something clutched in his arms. "What in the hell is he carryin'?"

Scout saw them watching him and tucked the object under one arm, lowering himself and charging back onto their makeshift court with speed. "Yo Snipes, alley-oop!" he yelled, double-jumping over the assassin and finally making that dunk, hanging from the milk crate basket for a moment before dropping to his hooves victoriously.

Everyone looked at what he'd dunked. Soldier's detached head, with a black eye and a fat lip, grinned up at them. "Hello! I am a basketball!"

Demoman threw an arm around Sniper and gently slugged him in the side. "See? Told ye we're nae the weirdest couple on base by a longshot."

#Lightspeed Replies #Anonymous #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #Monstrous Intent #TF2 Texas Toast #TF2 Batting Helmets #TF2 Sword Van #TF2 Pyro #TF2 Soldier #TF2 Engineer #TF2 Scout #TF2 Demoman #TF2 Sniper

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 3 months

Note

More TEXT CONVOS!! (Also I want you to know that you can disregard the drabbles ! I just hope you're doing well and taking care of yourself 💗💗) 💺 anon

🍊) My little (brat) princess

🍊: I hid a bag in our closet. If you find it, do not open it. 🍒: Well now I kinda want to look for it 🍊: Please don't. 🍒: :( 🍊: I'm serious. 🍒: What even is inside? 🍊: It's a surprise.

🍒: About to take a bath, alone 🍒: No one here to wash my hair for me 🍒: Or leave kisses on my neck and shoulder 🍒: Or run their hands down my body 🍒: HOW ARE YOU AT THE FRONT DOOR ALREADY??

🍊: My love for you is like diarrhea 🍊: I can't hold it in 🍒: Am I supposed to say something nice?

🍊: How would you feel if I shaved? 🍒: Please just tell me you didn't 🍊: Well... 🍊: Yeah I was just kidding love 🍊: WHY DID YOU TELL LEMON WE'RE GETTING DIVORCED?

🍒: How much until your cute ass gets home?? 🍊: I'll be there in less than an hour ❤️ 🍒: Prepare yourself because the moment you step in I'm gonna jump in your arms and attack your pretty face with kisses 🍒: I can't wait to cuddle and hear you complain about the mission 🍊: I'm so in love with you

🍊: [1 image attached] 🍒: Screaming, crying, shaking, shitting, pissing, banging my head againts the wall, ripping my hair out, clawing out my heart, slamming my fists on the table 🍒: You look lovely

🍒: Hello my mandarin 🍊: We're not doing this

🍒: I think Tan hates me 🍊: Excuse me? What made you believe that? 🍒: That was meant for Lem 🍊: Why would you tell him you think I hate you? 🍒: Because he's very funny and I love to gossip with him 🍊: I'm funnier than him actually. And that still doesn't answer my question 🍒: You didn't ask me to be your valentine :( 🍊: That's because we've been married for 8 years, I assumed you're already my valentine 🍒: You have to ask :( 🍊: Fine. Will you be my valentine? 🍒: Yes :) [Tan reacted with ❤️]

[Unknown number]: Hello my beautiful wife. I am curently writing this message to apologize and ask for your forgiveness. Please unblock me. Yours, Tangerine. 🍒: ENOUGH

🍋) Silly goofy guy

🍋: How's my favorite person in the world doing? 🍒: What did you do? 🍋: Jumping to conclusions I see 🍒: Lemon what did you do? 🍋: Promise you won't get mad 😆 🍒: I promise 😊😊😊🔪😊😊 🍋: I broke your heels 🍒: ... 🍒: Well did you at least take some photos?? 🍋: You know it 🤪 🍋: [5 images attached]

🍋: Should we play minecraft? I wanna finish our train 🍒: Tan said he doesn't want to :( 🍋: Tell him to mind his business

🍋: I was drinking bubble tea and choked on the balls so I spilled the drink everywhere 🍋: Now Tan won't even look at me

🍋: I've been looking for my gun for 2 hours only to realize I don't have it anymore 🤣🤣🤣🤣💃🥳😆😼😼

🍒: He's my little anal ☺️ 🍒: ANGEL 🍒: ANGEL I MEANT ANGEL 🍋: THE WAY I SCREAMED 🍒: DON'T SHOW THIS TO HIM 🍋: HE'S LOOKING AT ME NOOO 😭😭

🍊🍋🍒) The fruit bowl

🍒: Do you ever just 🍋: Yeah, but 🍋: Yk? 🍒: Damn man I sure do 🍊: Is this why you two created this group chat? 🍋: Actually it's so you can like and subscribe 🤯👽❓ 🍒: But first, a word from our sponsor!! 🍊: I'm so done with you both

🍋: Should I dye my hair? 🍊: Absolutely fucking not 🍒: Pookie no it won't look as good as it does now!! 🍋: Love you guys 🫶 🍋: I already bought the hair dye 🍊: WHY DID YOU EVEN ASK? 🍋: I'm in a silly goofy mood 🍋: So green or blue? 🍊: I will smash your head through a window 🍒: LEM LISTEN TO US!! 🍋: Yo I kinda look like the joker

🍒: [2 images attached, it's photos of Tan and Cherry hugging] 🍒: These look so good! 🍒: Lem best wingman AND photographer 🍋: Fucking finally. It was getting annoying 🍊: Would you stop it already? 🍒: Yeah, it wasn't THAT bad 🍋: [1 image attached, text convo of Tan talking about Cherry to Lem] 🍊: DELTE THST RIGHT FUCKING NOW 🍒: 🤣 🍋: Oh I know you're not laughing Cherry 🍋: [1 image attached, text convo of Cherry gushing about Tan to Lem] 🍒: THAT'S MESSED UP

+ bonus 🍊: Made her laugh today and I can't get it out of my head 🍊: It's driving me nuts 🍊: I must've looked fucking stupid the way I just stared at her 🍋: Talking about her again? 🍊: Who else do I ever talk about you nob 🍋: So did you ask her out? 🍊: What do you think? 🍋: I'm thinking no because you're a pussy 🍊: Fuck off

🍒: Ok so I was talking to him earlier today and he just put his hand on my shoulder and got really close to my face but I feel like he was mostly looking at my lips. Maybe it was just my imagination 🍒: Anyway, does he do this to everyone? 🍋: Girl

hii angel!!! I really do want to be able to write them for you, I’ll keep them in my inbox and will def try to do one of them, but if not, keep them noted down and I’ll get around to them eventually 💓💓

THESE ARE SO FUN!!!?? loved them all, especially..

^ why would he tell us if he doesn’t want us snooping??????

^ lem would be the mediator, trying to rationalise tan not to shave (even if he was messing) he doesn’t want to see his bro with a baby face

^ ALL OF THAT😭😭 and then, you look lovely. I HAVE A PICTURE IN MY HEAD AND I NEED TO ADD IT bc it works well and obviously bc it’s hot 😩😩😩😩😩😩

^ tan would be acting like he doesn’t know lem😭

^😭😭😭😭😭 we just have random half conversations (but we each no exactly what the other is thinking) and it just annoys tan sm. “what did you think about that thing?” “that was so crazy. what did you think about that other thing? not that thing but another thing?” “holy shit man, but did you see?” “RIGHT? and then?” “omg😭”

^ lem got the receipts 😭😭😭😭

^😭😭😭😭 “bc you’re a pussy” and “girl” lmao

#ask #💺#tangerine headcanon

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cyborg-franky · 2 years

Note

Helloo I actually love the summer prompt idea!! Your writings are so good!! Could I please get Law or Ace for prompt 11 and 19?

-🔮anon

Ah thank you! I had fun coming up with them <3

Ace x GN Reader SFW Prompt: Seeing spouse in a swim suit for the first time. Word Count: 458

Nervous didn’t cut it, how you felt at this moment, hands sweaty as you turned around, looking yourself over in your swimsuit. It was nice that the first and second divisions were having a beach day, something everyone deserved.

You’d been excited for a nice long weekend off, getting to feel the warm soft sands on your feet, getting to feel the clear blue water on your skin. You weren’t prepared to be showing off as much skin as you were now.

It wasn’t like Ace had never seen you naked but wearing something like this around others was nerve-wracking. You adjusted yourself once more making sure you weren’t showing things you didn’t want. Putting the loose flowy shirt over the outfit you slid your sunglasses up onto your head, sitting perched in your hair as you ducked under the blankets that had been pinned to rope, a makeshift changing room between the palms.

You could hear Ace laughing loudly and your pulse raced.

“About time, I thought you might have needed a hand,” Marco called from where he lounged in a deck chair, arms behind his head.

Ace heard Marco address you and he turned, the bright smile on his face soon dropped as his eyes roamed over how much skin was on display. You took a breath and were starting to feel awkward under his intense gaze.

“I know, it looks bad right?” you were worried there were lumps and bumps he could see, that in the glaring bright sunlight he was judging you.

“I’d say it was the opposite yoi.” The phoenix chuckled as he nodded to Ace, how his jaw was on the floor.

Fire erupted and licked across his skin, unable to control his thoughts and feelings at this moment, admiring every inch of you. Ace wasn’t known to be a man of few words but all he could muster was a double thumbs-up as the flames carried on burning across his shoulders, a laugh from Marco managed to shake him out of it.

Getting his fire under control he walked over to you, almost tripping on his own damn foot as he did. Arms around your waist Ace started to kiss your shoulders as the loose-fitting shirt slipped down, exposing more of your skin to his lips and the sun.

“You look great, better than great.” He sighed and brushed back some of your hair.

“You got nothing to worry about, I promise.” He whispered, kissing your forehead.

All the fear and dread fell from your shoulders, drained from your heart as your boyfriend smiled softly at you. He spun you around and pushed you towards the blanket he set up and was excited about getting to rub sunscreen all over you.

TAG LIST

@fire-fist-ann @rivvd-art @santoru @mimi-ya @simp4ace @aifozu @useless-potathoS-POTATHO @iloveportgasdace @smoleeveewrites @strawhat-bast @gonuclear @whisplion @undercoverweeeb @slut4animedilfs @acesmarigold @sanjithesimp @aces-sweetheart @sugxrslushy @kaizokuwritings @iloveportgasdace @bepoprotectionsquad @ace-no-isha @rowan-rites @thatsprettycoolbro

#portugas d ace #portugas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d. ace #one piece reader insert #one piece x you #gender neutral reader #sfw #one piece x reader

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saey707 · 2 years

Note

could i get sett x fighter!reader whos very nimble and quick on their feet? they fight a lot like jinx but without the guns. headcannons, drabbles, whatever you want!

✿ Prompt: You and Sett play fight ✿

♡ champion focus: sett ♡ tw: none! ♡ Gender-neutral reader

Author’s Note: Hey anon, I was a little confused on this one... (◎_◎;) Hopefully I got this right, but hey, I hope you enjoy nonetheless! <3

“Oh come on~ Please?” Nudging your boyfriend’s arm, you trailed beside him, trying to keep pace. Though, this proved to be a challenge, considering he was much taller than you, with strides that definitely exceeded your own smaller steps. Without turning his attention to your pouty face, he continued to flip a coin in his hand. He wouldn’t let himself succumb to your mind games!

“It’s not like we’re really going to be fighting! We’re just doing it for fun!” You persisted.

Sett smirked, “For the last time. No. I ain’t gonna fight ya, darlin’!”

With a response like that, you huffed, crossing your arms with a coy grin making its way onto your smug little face: “Oh? Don’t tell me the boss is afraid to lose against lil’ ol’ me.” You taunted, Sett offering nothing more than a snort of haughty derision.

“I ain’t afraid ta lose to ya, darlin’.” “Then fight me!” Tilting his head up at your statement, he looked to the side.

Sett took an abrupt turn down a left corridor, stopping you in your tracks. With a skid in your step, you caught yourself before you could fall back. You raced beside him once more, taking note of the new direction you were taking with him. Definitely not the way to his luxury box...

“Where are we going?” You shot him a coquettish look, watching his cheeks flair up. Though, this was something only you were able to take note of. His beautifully sun-kissed skin had a certain way of covering up the embarrassingly red heat that brushed across his cheeks.

“I think ya know damn well where we’re headed, darlin’...”

As you and your boyfriend ventured your ways into the arena, he parted from your side, losing the familiar comfort of your heat.

You prowled a few steps before him, observing how he rolled his shoulders, watching you yourself excitedly jumping up and down, wiggling your arms to warm yourself up.

And as your fight began with the brute of a man, you wasted no time in starting off light, nimble even. You denied him to opportunity to count down, watching as he stumbled back a little, surprised by your eagerness to kickstart your “play fight”. The shots you threw his way were lightweight, enough to throw Sett off guard when he believed you were actually going to land a kick to his face.

But as the fight proceeded, the more frustrated you grew. Sett dodged and whipped his body every which way to avoid your punches.

His own vows to you were partially to blame: So long as he was still standing, living, and breathing, he vowed to never lay a hand on you.

If there was one thing anyone needed to know about Sett, it was that he was far from willing to let the one’s he loves get hurt by his hand. And there were only two people that fit such a category: His mama and you.

“Come on, hit me!” You complained, “...Or at least let me hit you!” You added. A chuckle followed, Sett shaking his head as you proceeded in throwing wild, exhausting kicks and punches his way, your initial excitement and intensity fading with each and every punch you threw. “I ain’t layin’ a finger on you!” He exclaimed.

You yelled, throwing your fist at him, Sett catching it in his hand as you sighed heavily, struggling to free your hand from his grasp.

“Seeeettt, let go, this is cheating!” “Not in pit fightin’ it ain’t, baby.” You growled, feet digging into the dirt as you continued to try and pry your hand from his grasp.

“You done?” He asked calmly, allowing you a moment to catch your breath, noticing the irritated look in your eye. Sett knew he was really in the bag now; Not fighting back, but because he was bold enough to make such a comment.

Still, he didn’t throw one punch, watching you meekly toss up your other fist, Sett catching it with ease.

His eyes softened as you nodded your head:

“You’re really annoying, you know that?” You grumbled.

Blowing air from his nose, the half-Vastayan pressed his lips to your forehead, “You got guts. I’ll give ya that much.” He spoke sincerely, watching your eyes light up as you held his hands.

Oh Sett knows that look alright...

“So you’ll let me try out to be one of your contenders?!

#saeybaewrites #request #short #sett #sett lol #sett lol x reader #sett league of legends #sett x reader #sett league of legends x reader #league of legends x reader #x reader

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strawhatsoraya · 2 years

Note

Taller reader x Levi anon here! Not what I had in mind, but I LOVED IT!

You are really a genius so don’t mind another request like that?

Friendly taller readers is really good at hand to hand combat. Levi is told so, but doesn’t believe it, until he orders her to spar with him and don’t hold back. Reader doesn’t and Levi learns he doesn’t totally hate it to be forced into submission.

NSFW rematch optional

Here we gooooo Tall Reader! Beat his ass (with love)!

Again

LEVI X TALL FEM READER | NO PRONOUNS

WC: 482

CW: violence, some minor mention of blood

He’s heard the stories, entertained the tales. He had even seen it with his own eyes before, at least in passing. He was a man that was hard to impress. Violence and bloodshed was his normal–a cup of black tea in the morning, one cream, two sugars. The language of fists was ingrained in his memory muscle. He was Levi Ackerman, a flying devil. There was nothing he couldn’t slay, nothing he couldn’t dominate, nothing he couldn’t cut down to his size.

Then why was he struggling so damn much with you?

You pivot on the back of your heel, and swing your other leg down, heel aiming at his shoulder. Levi slides out of your way just in time to miss the full strength of your kick, but did not dodge your fist going for his shoulder. Pain sears his skin, and he takes a sharp breath before adrenaline takes over. He attempts offense again, trying to keep the center of his gravity low.

Your long legs gave you the reach he didn't have, but he had speed and malice on his side. At least so he thought. He ignored the taste of iron in his mouth, even as he spat on the ground next to your foot. He sinks at another swing of your fist, and aims for your knees, intent on knocking you down with him.

You both go down in a tangle of sweaty and bloody limbs. It had been several minutes since you started. You both had lost count. All either of you could focus on was getting in the next hit, countering the violent steps of this volatile dance. Your hands push him down, and he aims his knee at your diaphragm. He thinks he has you, when he sees you fold over, trying to catch your breath. His hand reaches out to your shoulder, thinking perhaps he overdid it. You grasp his hand and twist his wrist and arm with one hand, you pin him down by the shoulder with your free hand.. He cries out in pain, and follows it with a flurry of curses.

He threatens you, tells you all the things he would like to do to you and you laugh it off, shaking your head to dislodge hair clinging to your sweaty face.

“If you could,” you tell him, using your knee in the middle of his back as he kept resisting. “You would have by now.”

Shame floods his veins, at least he thinks so, there is no other explanation for the sudden full body flush; no other explanation why his heart is pounding in his ears, how he finds himself uncomfortably aroused.

“Again,” he breathes out ragged, struggling to catch his breath as you press him down on the ground, planning his revenge. It was easier to focus on that then the urge to kiss you. “Let’s go again.”

#fic request #levi x y/n #levi x reader #aot: levi x reader #snk levi #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #snk x y/n #snk x you #aot x reader #aot x you #aot fanfiction

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violettduchess · 1 year

Note

"Your fingers curled tightly around his wrist feel like shackles and he has the wild inclination to fall to his knees and beg not for release, but to be fettered to you eternally."

Your writing has me screaming like a kid on rollercoaster. This line especially. God damn Violett.

I need to see you write this man on his knees, begging. I know requests are closed but when they open again I WILL request this *shakes fist*

🤝 you got a deal anon! I promise you and @viohasgoneintothewoods you'll get a Gilbert whose been brought to his knees and begging at some point!

And thank you for your kind words 💜

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tojikai · 2 years

Note

Ooh boy, where do I go with this?

*crack knuckles

*open word

Firstly,… KAI! IS THIS HOW EVERY CHAPTER GONNA END UNTIL THE FINAL ONE? I mean, of course, this will be how you end it. How else are you gonna get your reader looking forward to the next one? It works on me tbh, but still… I swear every cliffhanger in PM always makes me rip my hair offLMAOSADKASKDASDK

Why don’t we start from the top to the bottom?

But when her sweet breaths lull his tired form to sleep and all consciousness and control leave his body, he again hears your name in the sound of his own voice, unaware of how he's crushing another soul beside him.

I just… like… *insert that gif of a woman trying to hold on to her laughter

I’m sick in the head bc I giggled sm at this part. You thought, bitch, you thought! Like at least, Satoru emotionally cheated on Y/N in secret, but this man just straight up slept talk her name while sleeping next to you like that? The yearning is REAL. And like, the “side hoe” part is actually true at this point. What goes around comes around, am I right? :))

Was the man sleeping beside her simply dreaming of his past, or is this his subconscious speaking out his heart's untold and disregarded yet truest desires?

*remember the near end of this chapter

Yeahhhhhh…… about that…… LMAO

Going on with his day, Satoru remembered the events that happened after he got home from the hospital. He considers it one of the major challenges in their relationship, and he could still remember how his thoughts were all over the place at that time.

*fast forward

If he takes it, then it's over between the two of you. If he takes it, then he'll never get the chance to earn you back. If he takes it, then you'll forever be gone from his life.

He won't take the necklace, so he took your hand and pulled you to him, kissing your lips fervently and braving the slam of your fists against his body and chest, drowning you with the over.

He cradled your head as he kissed your cheek. "I'm ending things with Rie. I'm coming home to you, Y/N." flowing emotions that you bring out of him.

“One of the major challenges in their relationship” Yeah, that and the day you broke up with Rie LMAO. Like he thought there would be more if their relationship lasted that long, but like, the moment he realized that he’s going to lose Y/N for real, all these relationship things with Rie went out of the fucking window. He just jumped back right in Y/N without a second thought. No hesitation whatsoever.

All I could do was shake my head at this. This shit feels like it’s mirrored chapter 1. He didn’t think twice about leaving Y/N and now Rie is on the receiving end. THIS ASSHOLE DOESN’T CHANGE AT ALL. HE NEEDS THAT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT JUICE ASAP IF GOJO AND Y/N DO GET BACK TOGETHER. No one wants this manchild. He changes his mind faster than he changes his clothes.

Also, this chapter is probably the first in PM that makes me want to read it over and over again. Because it’s where Satoru finally makes up his damn mind about what he truly feels. It gives me so much peace. Like, you get it, Satoru… you get it… And since you understand now, will you fuck off for real? (we know he won’t) LASLDKASDKAAS;LDAS IM STILL SO MAD AT HIM OKAY?

She started out sobbing before it gradually increased to full-on wailing and crying.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, keeping eye contact, but his stare was glazed as he placed a hand on her waist.

"Satoru, I'm sorry." His disinterest didn't go unnoticed by Rie as she tried to catch his vacant stare.

Oh man, oh man, oh man! Anon strikes again!! Satoru just didn’t care or was afraid of Rie’s tears. AT ALL. You thought he would care more, like how he impulsively lashed out at Y/N at the party, but the indifference is kinda real here. He just didn’t bother hiding it anymore.

"The girl's really nice, Ma'am. I think her name's Y/N."

Satoru really believed that it was all slowly, steadily getting better. He thought that he was finally learning to completely detach himself from all the happenings surrounding you and him, just like how you must be doing every passing day too. But it was proven wrong when he found his heart punching against his chest, beseeching to be set free with just a couple of words. He really thought he was over it all, that he was keeping his promise to never see you anymore.

He really thought that he was over you.

I love how you gave Satoru a moment of false peace and allowed him to be lost in his dream world just to hit it again with the truck of reality. It’s so cruel yet so delicious. I imagine this moment as everything went slow-motion in Satoru’s POV when he heard her name and then *ting* a moment of realization. A realization that no matter how hard he tries to distract or lie to himself that everything will be fine, it’s really not, not until he acknowledges his true desire or that shit will eat him up for the rest of his life. LOVE IT.

He didn't think that his best friend would really go for you after only a few months of your break up with him. He shouldn't be the one to talk, but he felt betrayed.

This makes me want to use him as a sandbag and start going to town on him. The medicine sure is bitter now, huh, Hoejo?

"It's none of your fucking business-" Satoru could tell that Suguru's clenched fist was about to rise, ready to shake him out of his mind, but he saw you rushing beside him, hugging his arm before he could even prepare for the punch.

Okay, the Suguru and Satoru brawl almost happened here. It wasn’t a lie when I said I want to see them dug it out lol, but I like the way things turned out to be bc there’s no way Y/N or Rie would let it happen in their presence. Those boys can only do that in private tbh.

"Suguru, it's not worth the trouble." You shook your head to Suguru before looking back at Satoru with nothing but indifference in your eyes.

You weren't crying this time, but your hand was obviously trembling.

There was an anxious yet determined look in your eyes, and Suguru could tell that you were really trying your best and braving your way through this.

And so many more moments after this…..

IM SO PROUD OF Y/N IN THIS CHAPTER (of course that doesn’t mean it’s the same with a certain action of her). She does have the strength and the calmness to face Satoru. Yes, the wound is still fresh, but she’s trying. She’s trying so hard. AND I LOVE TO SEE IT. I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME. I also love how it doesn’t matter if the people she cares about hurt or love her, she doesn’t make a decision concerning them out of spite but genuinely takes their feelings into consideration. Like with the way she understands why Satoru would feel betrayed and emphasizes how it will affect his friendship with Suguru overall more than their relationship. Her love for others always feels so pure to me, whether it’s platonic or romantic.

She had Satoru wrapped around her pretty, dainty fingers with just one kiss. Yet you couldn't even make him stay with your five years of devotion.

Kai, this part almost killed me dead and made me wail like a bitch. Stupid Satoru. Why are you like this? Why??? *beat him with a stick like a piñata

Even if she wasn't pleased about how Satoru had been acting, she couldn't help but think that maybe this could be the closure that the two of you need. Maybe this talk can finally set the two of you free. Perhaps this little event is the key to the peaceful, normal, and stable relationship that he wants with Satoru.

Or the thing that breaks it. Yikes. Girl, did you forget the way your man act just by listening to his ex’s name and how he stormed to his best friend’s house? And OMG, when Y/n suggested that she and Satoru talk at her place, is it also mirrored to that night Satoru brought Rie home? WHAT IN THE PARALLEL???ADSKDLAKDALDALKDAS Except unlike that time, instead of a make-out session, he FUCKED Y/N in their old place. I know I should feel bad and I am, of course, disapproved of both Satoru’s and Y/N’s actions, but the irony in this makes me cackling like crazy. Serve you right, bitch!

And once again, there’s also a parallel with the way both Y/N and Rie react to Satoru after his respective cheating. Rie felt bad for being the catalyst of their breakup, but she accepted Satoru’s advances anyway while Y/N does everything she can to block him out of her life and just move on.

"Call me if something happens," Suguru whispered down to you, kissing your forehead before letting you go.

At this point, Sugu x Y/N or not, I just adore the way he treats Y/N. It’s no doubt filled with love and actual care yet it’s still so respectful. The casual affection, the way they’re so considerate to each other’s feelings makes my heart melts. He’s a whole king I swear. I don’t think this ship is sunk yet, but I don’t mind if they stay friends. Y/N deserves to have someone like him in her life.

He wished this would be over soon so that you could finally be free from them all.

Unfortunately, God (Kai) doesn’t want the angst to stop just yet lol. I’m so sorry baby Suguru, but keep praying and maybe your wish will come true. (1/3)

i actually feel like the cliffhangers are aggravating some readers now 😭 im really sorry but dw these cliffhangers have a following event to them, i promise LMAO

the first point from the story, gosh. i would literally bawl my eyes out if my partner calls out their ex's name in sleep 😭 like that hurts a lot. definitely yearning for the ex :')) and yeah, something really changed after that party. probably bc he finally saw yn break down and he realized that he's truly weak for her but just wouldn't admit it. the slow-motion moment when he heard yn's name definitely happened. man was blind for a couple of minutes as he ran to his car 😭 he was beyond surprised when he heard it. AND the piñata beating is sending me LMAOO 💀 im glad that you caught on to the parallels tho 👀i wanted to make it happen in the car as well but that would be too obvious so i said, lets just go inside the flat😂

AND OHMYGOD that suguru x yn interaction before she left is just 😩💕I HAD TO TAKE A PAUSE FROM WRITING and i read it over and over again as i imagined it LMAO he's so sweet~ but that was like a moment before disaster LMAO

@my-arietta it's this one 😭IM SORRY i got multiple windows open LMAO

#🍭—kaitalks #f: permanent mark

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barbex · 2 years

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Sorry for being late on the prompts but I napped until the middle of the night and hope you're still taking prompts cause I love watching you update on AO3. I had to think really hard what single thing I was gonna request and !!. I think I'm going for "I wish you would write a fic where Anders is an anxious ball of energy from Fenris' threaths/jokes and begs him not to turn him in" ??? I'm not creative please I just love angsty Fenders where Anders expects the worst and Fenris is an angel

Thank you, dear Anon. This was really inspiring and resulted in 3400 words, oops! For @dadrunkwriting, fenders, Fenris x Anders, references to sexual abuse and prostitution.

I know for a fact that I've read a fic like that and I'm trying my utmost to not just copy what I remember from that fic.

---

Anders pulls his arm back, putting all of his not so significant weight into it, and punches the man on the nose. He crumbles with a truly pathetic wail and Anders shakes out is hand with a hiss.

Market days usually aren't like this. On normal days, when Anders goes to the market in Lowtown, he gets his goods and leaves again, with nobody commenting on the hood over his head or the "walking stick" he leans on, that definitely doesn't look like a mage's staff. Some people greet him as the healer, sell him their goods at a lower price because they remember the friend or family member he helped once, and then he goes back home to the clinic.

But today, a new group of people has set up shop at the market, traders from Antiva in direct competition with traders from Nevarra, and the atmosphere is already strenuous when Anders enters the market. And of course, things only get worse.

He's already on his way out, deciding, very wisely he would say, to get the herbs another day to avoid the commotion, but it's already too late. Tables tip over, tents collapse, fists are flying, and Anders is right in the middle of it. The first knife coming at his throat forces him to react and then he just tries to keep people at a distance to get away.

Someone grabs his arm and Anders whips around to strike, but a familiar voice has him stop. "Anders, what are you doing here?" Varric looks over his shoulder and raises his crossbow. Whoever tried to attack Anders' back clearly has no interest in interacting with Bianca the crossbow and retreats. Somewhere on the other side of the brawl, Hawke and Aveline yell once, twice. Most people stop fighting at that and walk away from each other with the kind of dazed and embarrassed look that people often have when they leave the Hanged Man.

Just one antivan trader does not know that it's time to settle down, and runs towards Anders, holding a club in his raised hand. That's when Anders breaks his nose.

Shaking his hand out, Anders takes stock of the situation. Multiple people have minor wounds but he'd be damned if he risks discovery in the middle of Lowtown to help these troublemakers. His wrist hurts. He'll need to find a quiet corner to heal himself first, anyway.

"You keep holding back, mage, why?"

Fenris' gravely voice is much too loud.

"Shhss, will you keep it down?" he hisses at Fenris. Right on time, templars appear at the entrance of the market. Of course, the trouble is already over and they don't need to risk denting their armor.

"Why?" Fenris looks at him, confused. "You never hide that you're a mage and an abomination."

"Why don't you yell a bit louder?" Anders snarls. "The templars didn't quite hear you." He looks over to the templar, his helmet slowly turning as he takes in the market. "You may not notice it, but I do hide, especially when I'm alone." He glares one last time at the elf and then waves at Varric and walks towards an alley that offers an unseen path back to Darktown's elevator. Turning to a wall in the shadows, he sends some healing into his throbbing wrist and sighs when the pain recedes.

"Mage."

How he didn't hear Fenris' approach, is a mystery for another time.

"Oh, for crying out loud. Must you announce this to the world every time you see me, slave?" Anders lets the glow of his magic die down and continues to walk down the narrow alley.

"You think you can forbid me to speak?" Fenris snarls. "I have to listen to your whining and you think you can order me to be quiet, mage?" He glares at Anders, his markings flickering.

For the first time in a long while, Anders is truly afraid. He's used to bullies, to people wanting to feel important, people who know they have power over him. But that's not what he sees in Fenris' face. All he can see is pure hatred. Fenris doesn't look for something to gain. Fenris just hates him.

"Sorry," he breathes out and turns and runs as fast as he can. He ducks into tiny alleys, secret passages that saved his ass before, through cellars and warehouses, until he reaches the rickety ladders leading down to Darktown. It's not as comfortable as the elevators, but safer. Hopefully. Nobody ever checks the holding brackets on these things.

He waves at the carta dwarf standing watch in front of the clinic, one of the regulars, protecting the clinic and him. He isn't sure if he owes this to Varric or to one of the carta leaders he treats in the clinic. When the door falls closed behind him, he breathes a sigh of relief. But, even with the protection outside, he can't quite shake the feeling that the problem with Fenris will keep festering like a wound. If Fenris decides he has enough of the mouthy mage, he can easily alert the templars somewhere where no carta will protect him and be done with him.

The next time Hawke drags them out on a job, he makes sure to stay far away from Fenris. If he doesn't speak to the elf, he won't get angry, so Anders keeps his mouth shut as best as he can.

Isabela bumps his arm. "What's the matter with you, Sparklefinger?"

"Wow, haven't heard that name in a long time."

"Back when you were still fun." Isabela pouts at him, as if he personally insulted her.

"Sorry, Izzy, but we all get older." He hooks his arm under hers and pulls her close. "So far I didn't need to look for a second job, but if I take up Madame Luisine's offer one day, you'll be the first to know."

Isabela giggles and presses a kiss to Anders' cheek. "It'll be just like old times."

"Yeah..." A wave of sadness settles over his head. He had been more carefree, back then. Even though his life and freedom were in danger every day, his worries were somehow smaller than today.

"You worked in a brothel?" Fenris' deep voice pulls him out of his memories.

"Yes," Anders answers quickly. "There aren't many jobs for —" He stops himself and shuts his mouth hard. If he starts talking about how shitty his life was, it'll only make Fenris angry and he can't risk that. "It was just a job." He grabs his staff tighter and hurries his steps to catch up with Hawke at the front, asking her about the job. When he looks over his shoulder, Fenris frowns at him.

Great, he still made him angry.

Hawke keeps them busy for four more days, running around on some sort of investigation that at least doesn't result in many injuries. On the third day, Anders asks to stay at the clinic, pointing out that his patients need him. "It's not like you're running into anyone dangerous in this investigation."

Hawke looks at him for a bit and then nods. "You're right. I'll ask Merrill."

"If anything happens, you know where to find me." Anders watches them leave, catching Fenris frowning at him, and he breathes a sigh of relief when they're all gone. Two days of tip-toeing around the elf, keeping his mouth shut and never mentioning anything that could be interpreted as whining, has used up all of his mental reserves.

He sits down on his rickety chair, rolls his shoulders, and lays out the ingredients for fresh health potions. At least he can use the time for something useful. That mellows the tiny sliver of guilt he feels for not accompanying Hawke and their friends.

A sharp whistle from outside has him jump, his chair tipping over. It's a warning from his carta protector. He grabs his medical bag, throws in his books, the vials of royal elfroot extract that cost him a fortune, and the two health potions he already prepared. Already he hears the clanging of armor outside of the rickety door of the clinic and he dives into the darkest corner of his room, where a pile of debris seems to have fallen from the ceiling. He lifts the whole thing up with the hidden trapdoor underneath, jumps in and pulls it closed above his head, just as he hears the front door splinter.

Pressing his bag to his chest, he breathes in the scent of leather and elfroot. He hates the darkness and he hates small spaces, but he hates the templars and the Circle even more, so he has to endure the first to avoid the latter.

For what feels like hours, Anders listens to the templars trampling through the clinic, smashing everything in their way. Potions fall from broken shelves, vials breaking and liquid seeping into the floorboards. It smells of herbs and alcohol, which is an improvement to the stank of Darktown, but Anders' heart breaks when he thinks how long he had to scrape all the things together that now get destroyed in minutes.

It's been quiet for a while now, but Anders doesn't dare to move. Templars can be very patient. One could wait outside, waiting for Anders to come out. He holds the bag to his chest, breathing as quietly as he can. Justice makes a soothing sound in his head, not quite a song, more like a hum, and it makes sitting still in the darkness a little easier to endure.

After a long time, footsteps come closer, running, storming into the clinic. "Anders?"

Hawke. It's Hawke.

"Creators, they broke everything," Merrill says, sounding like she's close to tears.

"Mage?"

Fenris, of course. Maybe checking if someone else solved his problem?

Anders pushes the trapdoor open and climbs out, making sure to hide it again, before he shoves the tattered curtain aside. "I'm here, they didn't find me."

"Andraste be blessed," Hawke cries out and pulls him into a hug. Merrill comes up to them and joins the hug and Anders feels like a weight falls from his shoulders.

With a long breath, Anders opens his eyes again and untangles himself from Hawke's and Merrill's arms. His gaze falls on Fenris and the blood freezes in his veins. Fenris looks angry, downright furious.

Anders' thoughts stumble over themselves. Did the elf expect something different? Is he disappointed that Anders wasn't taken? Did he send the templars himself, knowing that Anders was alone in the clinic? Fenris catches his gaze, and whatever shows on his face, it causes Fenris to turn on his heels and leave the clinic.

"Where did Fenris go?" Hawke asks after a while, as they pick up the salvageable pieces from the floor, bandages that just need a wash, vials that aren't broken by some miracle.

"I don't know." Anders sets a table on three legs and fishes the broken one out of the rubble. He finds a few nails and some other broken pieces and fixes the table leg with some well-placed nails and hits with his hammer. "Maybe he's disappointed that the templars didn't catch me."

"How can you say that?" Hawke stares at him. "Fenris would never —"

"He wouldn't?" Anders lets out a bitter huff. "He yells out that I'm a mage, an abomination, at every opportunity. It's just a matter of time until a templar hears him."

Hawke shakes her head. "That's not..."

Anders whips around. "That's not what?"

"He's been hurt."

"Everyone hurts in some way." Anders sets the table down too hard, nearly breaking the leg again. "But only he makes sure to tell me all the time what a pest I am and how all mages should be locked up or tranquil."

"He doesn't mean that." Hawke steps closer, looking at Anders' hands. "You're shaking."

"I think it's been a bit much, what with the raid and," he gestures at the destruction all around, "all of this."

"You're sleeping in one of the guest rooms tonight, come on," Hawke says, resolutely taking his arm. "We'll finish this tomorrow."

After a pleasant meal and some conversation that mentions neither templars nor Fenris, Anders lies in the luxurious bed in Hawke's mansion, staring at the painted ceiling. He can't sleep. His thoughts jump around, returning again and again to the way Fenris looked at him.

The elf clearly despises him. Even if he didn't tip off the templars this time, he could do it any time he likes. That threat will always hang over him. He has to do something about that. Placate Fenris somehow.

With a sigh, Anders sits up and puts on his trousers and shoes. Stepping quietly on the carpet, he can hear Hawke talk with Merrill in the library. He slips out with no one noticing him and stomps over to the dark, rotting mansion that Fenris occupies. He knocks on the door, and after waiting a while, opens it and steps inside.

"Fenris?"

"What do you want?" The voice comes from the hall in the centre of the house.

Anders walks in, stepping over the usual assortment of magically preserved corpses and mushrooms to reach the fireplace. Fenris sits in a stuffed chair in front of the fire, a half empty wine bottle in his hand, and glares at him. "What do you want, mage?"

"No, what do you want?" Anders tries to keep his voice hard and firm, despite his hands shaking behind his back. "I don't know if you sent the templars after the clinic today, but even if you didn't, you made it clear that you could any time."

Fenris jumps up. "Get out!"

"No." Anders widens his stance and crosses his arms over his chest. "Just tell me. You wanted to make me weary and anxious? Congratulations, you were successful. Now, just tell me what you want."

His heart beats too fast and he can't stop his hands from shaking, despite shoving them under his arms. Fenris just stares at him. Running out of options, Anders falls to his knees. "I don't have money, you know that, so please, tell me what I have to do. Do you want me to serve you on my knees? Clean your house? Suck your cock? Just tell me."

Fenris' eyes go wider with every word and he stumbles backwards, nearly tripping over the stuffed chair. "Don't say that, don't... why?"

"Why what?" Anders holds out his hands, ignoring the tears that drip from his eyes for some stupid reason. "Just tell me what you want. I can't live like this, wondering when you're gonna —"

"I would never!" Fenris' voice rattles the windows. "You think me this... this vicious? That I'm such a monster?"

"The monster is me, according to you." Anders stands up, slowly, wincing when his knee protests.

Fenris looks at his knee. "Why don't you heal your knee?"

Anders dismisses the question with a wave of his hand. "It's an old injury, a templar lesson." He sighs, looking up at the dirty skylight in the ceiling. "At any other time, I would just leave the city, but I can't, so please, just tell me —"

"I don't want anything from you."

"Great." Anders throws his hands up. "So I just have to wait for the day when a templar overhears you calling me mage or abomination and just like that you'll be rid of me. That's just great for my non-existent sleep patterns." His eyes fall on a table at the wall and he walks over, offering his last trump.

Shoving his pants down, he leans over the table and throws his coat over his back. "Here, you can fuck my ass. Fuck a mage, as hard as you can, wouldn't that be —" He grunts as Fenris presses against him, leaning over his back. His armor digs into his back and Anders shoves down all the dark memories that want to rise.

He can endure, he's done it before. It's just a little harder to breathe.

"No." Fenris breathes down his neck and then his weight leaves his back.

The air feels cold on his face, brushing over tears. He doesn't know when he started crying. Putting his clothes right, he glances at Fenris. "I know you hate me, but this is just cruel."

"I don't hate you." Fenris' voice is nearly too quiet.

"What?"

Fenris' head snaps around and he yells, "I don't hate you! I fear you, I fear your power."

"What power?" Anders yells back. "You have power. I couldn't even poke you before I would look at my own heart in your hand." Anders hits his fist against his chest. "Tell me, what power do I have? The power to have my emotions burned out of my skull if you keep yelling 'mage' under the templar's noses?"

Fenris stares at him with wide eyes. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware."

Anders feels like someone punched the air out of his stomach. "How could you not be aware? You saw the mages and the tranquil at the Gallows, you told me yourself that all mages should be made tranquil."

"I said that I know some mages who should be tranquil, in Tevinter."

Anders sets his hand on the table, letting it take some of his weight. He's so tired. "What difference does that make?"

"I didn't mean you."

"Why not? I'm a mage, just like them."

Fenris shakes his head. "You are nothing like them."

"Lucky me." Anders' legs suddenly feel like lead and he leans against the wall and slides down until he sits on the floor. The stress of the day catches up with him and the healer part of himself notes the cold sweat at the back of his neck and his shaking hands as signs of exhaustion. "I'm too tired for this. I'll do anything, whatever you want. Just say what you think and maybe we —"

"I think that you're kind and passionate." Fenris crouches down in front of him and looks him in the eyes. "I think that you respect life and people. I think you care too much sometimes. You care about your friends, your patients, helping them at the expense of your own health."

Anders stares at Fenris, all coherent thoughts having left his mind.

"If you ask me what I want — I want to look at you without fear." Fenris lowers his eyes, watching his hands as they wring each other. "I want to be able to trust you. I want to talk to you and not hear a magister, waiting for an opening to hurt me."

"Fenris," Anders says softly, putting his hand on Fenris'. "What can I do?"

Fenris turns his hands up, pressing his palm against Anders'. "I don't know. This is all new to me."

Anders wraps his fingers around Fenris' hand, stroking with his thumb over a line of lyrium on the back of Fenris' hand. "Maybe all we need is time?"

"Yes, maybe." Fenris lets out a breath and looks at Anders. "I will not call you abomination again, if you don't call me slave."

Anders flinches. "I did that, didn't I? I'm such an ass sometimes. I promise, I won't call you slave again."

"And I will keep my mouth shut about your mageness around templars."

"Thank you." Anders lets Fenris' hand slip out of his grasp and gets up, using the table as support. He looks at it, at the scratched, but clean surface and the sturdy legs. "Do you have chairs? Two of them?"

Fenris frowns as he gets up. "Yes?"

"Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night? I can make soup if I can use your kitchen."

Fenris looks from the table to Anders and back. "Here? Dinner? With me?"

Anders shrugs. "My table is broken."

A smile pulls at the corners of Fenris' mouth. "Yes. Yes, I would like that."

"Good." Anders feels strangely light, excitement curling in his stomach. "Then I'll see you tomorrow after the seventh bell."

"Yes." Fenris looks at him, his hands twitching as if he doesn't know what to do with them.

"I better get back to the mansion now, before Hawke sends out a search party." Anders walks towards the door. He turns once more, raising his hand in an awkward wave. "Good night, see you tomorrow."

Fenris raises his hand slowly, looking at him with a strange frown. "See you tomorrow."

Smiling once more at the elf, Anders walks out, a swing in his steps and butterflies dancing in his stomach. He shakes his head at himself. It's like he's a bloody teenager again.

#dadrunkwriting #Fenris #Anders #Fenris x Anders #dragon age #fenders #fenders fic #dragon age fanfiction #my writing

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