#Would they be glad that he is taking a load of work off of them?
Text
Bank Security Guard Danny AU
So, the People of Gotham are extremely desensitized to Rouge Attacks at this point. It got to the point that whenever a person gets a job at the Bank, they have a whole 1 Hour Training Video on how to deal with a Rouge Attack right.
So, when they hire a New Security Guard from a lesser known Security Company, they don't even bother showing him the Training Video. They assume that he'll either Die or Drop them within a Week.
Danny, for the record, did not know how bad the Rouge problem truly was. All he knew was that some random guy in a Ski Mask had just walked into the bank like he owned the place and started showing off a Gun telling everybody to get on the ground.
Danny did the sensible thing and Knocked him the Fuck Out.
Then, the same thing happened the very next day, but this time it was an entire group of people. Danny had them dealt with before the first person had gotten to the floor.
Then the same thing happened the Same Day!
By the end of the week he had become a Legend among the Citizens of Gotham. There was only a single Bank in all of Gotham that had avoided being robbed for a Whole Week, and it was all because of this one Security Guard who was freakishly good at his Job.
By the end of the Month, most criminals don't even bother trying that Bank anymore. It got worse when he got loaned out as Security for another Bank, and the same thing happened again.
Eventually, he ends up rotating shifts in Every Bank in Gotham, and it becomes a Game for the Criminals to see if the Bank they try to Rob is the one Danny is in that night. And they can't even reasonably predict his next location, since he always moves around at Random!
No matter what Bank he is in, he always manages to beat the Crooks trying to Rob the Bank.
Then it gets weird. Due to a scheduling Mix Up, Danny ends up being scheduled for 2 different Banks on the same day, each across the city from the other.
One Bank reports that Danny stopped a gang from Robbing them at 6:00 PM, which really confuses the other Bank because Danny did the same thing in their Bank at the same time. Security Footage proves it, Danny was somehow in 2 places at once.
They decide not to confront him about it, but they do test a theory. They intentionally hire him at multiple different Banks at the same time for a week. He shows up to work every time without fail.
By now they have basically confirmed that he must be a Meta, but they don't really care anyways. Now he can protect multiple Banks at once with his usual perfect Efficiency, and he'll be payed accordingly as well. The Banks get protected well, and he gets payed Extreme Overtime by the Banks, everybody wins!
Well...except for the Crime Bosses of Gotham.
Before this, it was a Game for them to try and beat Danny. They didn't really care since a single Uber Competent Security Guard was still perfectly fine for business, sure they would fail a Job once in a while if they ran into him, but he could only be in 1 place at a time. It wasn't a Huge Loss.
But now it was too much. They needed to take care of him.
Assassination Attempts didn't work. He was just as competent Off the job as he was On it, so they could never get to him.
They tried attacking his Bosses, but then they hired themselves to protect...themselves. It was hard to kill his Bosses when he was constantly Bodyguarding all of them at once.
Attempts to get to him through his Family were...let's not talk about that...
It continued on like this for a while.
...
Soooo...I don't know how to end this one.
Go ahead and put your own spin on this Prompt! The basic idea is that Danny is using his Duplication Power to get to every shift on Time, and he is really annoying the Local Crime Bosses.
What do you think?
#Dp x dc#Dpxdc#Danny phantom#DC#Dcu#Security Guard Danny AU#Security Guard AU#Danny has Duplication Powers#Danny is way to competent for a Guard#I wonder what the Bat Fam would think of this?#Would they be glad that he is taking a load of work off of them?#Or would they be distrustful of a Powerful Meta in Gotham?#It's not like they can just ask him to leave#They Banks would riot#So would the people he saved#Maybe Ellie joins him on the Job?#Crooks: At least there's only one of them.#Ellie: Heya there!#Crook: What the f-!!!
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
pathetic sub!yandere boys ♡
pathetic, disgusting yandere boys that can't help but be obsessed with you.
wc: 1k+ words | masterlist | part two
dom!fem!reader, stalking, begging, unhealthy relationship, mention of fucking
note: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE SHORT
Yandere boys are honestly adorable. But not just any regular yandere boys, im talking about pathetic boys that slowly turn possessive and less innocent the more obsessed they are with you.
The ones that stalk you in and out of school as they take pictures of you when you're not looking, even sometimes up your skirt when you're turned around! The ones that offer to help you with everything during school, blushing whenever you thank him and give him a compliment before rushing towards the nearest bathroom to jerk off cause they got hard from the small praise you gave them. how pathetic!
Yandere boys that would try their best to become your best friend, even going long lengths to hang out with you every second you're free.
You were going to go to the carnival with a friend? Suddenly that friend has to cancel on you because they feel sick, not knowing that your yandere added something weird to their lunch.
A friend asked if you wanted to hang with them later and you agreed? Thats weird because now they're not picking up their phone or answering their texts. Well guess who stole their phone and hid it somewhere where they wouldn't find it.
Whenever you're sad, your yandere will buy you loads of snacks and comfort you as best as they can.
Its cute really, how they try so hard to hide their obsession with you from you, even going as far as to anonymously threaten your friends that tell you how weird and creepy they are.
But everytime your friends warn you, you just smile back and them and say that [character] is just super nice to you and thats all.
Your yandere boy is so desperate for you that it's so pathetic yet so cute at the same time.
They think that you have no clue of his intentions or what he's done but little does he know, you actually do.
You know how they stalk you, how they try to separate you from your friends, how they're absolutely obsessed with you.
And so when you come over to their house to work on a class project, you're not surprised to find a big journal that has a heart on the cover with your name on it peeking out from under their bed when you come in their room. Opening it only to find lewd drawings and pictures of you alongside long paragraphs that your yandere wrote.
Reading the paragraphs and how it describes how every desire [character] has with you, even being specific as to say the exact details that would happen with each situation.
The first one you read includes how they want to get fucked by you, describing how they want to be bent over their bed as they cry and sob from the pleasure you give them.
It continues with you making him cum multiple times as you wrap a hand around his neck, leaning towards their ear to whisper degrading praise to him.
You continue reading the rest, watching as his desires turn darker and darker as they become even more specific than before, as if they actually happened before.
But before you could reach the end, your yandere opens the door with some snacks in his hand. Poor him really, cause he would have never expected for you to find out about his obsession with you.
But you're glad you did because now you get to watch as he pauses at the door, dropping the snacks in shock when he sees you with his journal in hand. Watch as his eyes flood with tears as he begins to shake from fear and shock, his face turning red as he tries to choke back a sob. Watch as he stumbles in front of you, landing on his knees as he looks into your eyes to no longer see any love in them but instead something dark that makes him shiver. Maybe it's disgust, maybe it's something entirely else.
They beg you to forget what you just saw, tears flooding down their face. It's just so embarrassing for them that you found out about their obsession with you. You can't help but coo at them as you tilt their head towards you, pressing your foot against the bulge in his pants because of course he couldn't help but get hard in this situation. That's just how pathetic they are, you think its cute though.
Hearing them let out a pitiful whimper as he lays his head on your thigh, pleading you with their eyes. Big cute eyes that try to convince you that he's done nothing wrong.
The situation is no longer about the journal when he starts to let out adorable noises when you continue to grind your foot against his bulge, making him quickly cum in the matter of seconds.
But even though he just came just a few moments ago, the way you call them pathetic with the disgust in your voice makes him hard again as he hump your foot.
They'll let you do anything to them. Dress them up, degrade him, humiliate them, they dont care! They're yours to use.
Secretly, your yandere is grateful that you found the journal under their bed. They actually wanted you to. They wanted you to get disgusted as you read the contents within their journal.
They hoped that you would punish them for how lewd and disgusting they are and they would be so grateful when you actually do.
Make the situations in his journal that he forever dreamed of come true as all he can do is moan and scream your name as you use him like a toy for your pleasure. Make him fall apart underneath you as his body gets littered with bite marks that compliment his body so nicely.
If he's too loud, shut him up with a choker or even better, your panties. The way his eyes would roll back as he cums for the nth time that night. But you're not done with him yet, oh not anytime soon.
You have to punish him for everything that he's ever done to you.
The whole situation is messed up but no matter how obsessed they are with you, you wouldn't ever trade them for the world. After all, they're your yandere.
ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink
╰┈➤ masterlist | rules
#chaepink.nsfw#yandere fanfiction#yandere x reader#sub yandere#sub!yandere#dom!reader#sub!character#dom reader#haikyuu smut#haikyuu x reader#sub!haikyuu#mha x reader#sub!mha#mha smut#bnha x reader#sub!bnha#bnha fanfiction#jjk x reader#sub!jjk#csm smut#csm x reader#kny smut#sub!kny#sub!bts#sub!kpop#sub!ateez#sub!idol#sub!nct#sub!seventeen#sub!enhypen
10K notes
·
View notes
Text
Part Five
Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)
You call Meredith when you get home.
You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.
How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.
"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."
"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"
"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."
"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.
"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."
"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."
"That works."
"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."
It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.
"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.
"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."
The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.
Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.
But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.
You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.
You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.
Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.
“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...
“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”
"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"
"You won't return any of our messages."
"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."
"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.
"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.
Dammit.
"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."
"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.
"Why not?" He countered.
“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”
He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.
You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.
God...
That felt good.
You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...
You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.
#captain john price#kyle gaz garrick#simon ghost riley#call of duty#john soap mactavish#angst with a happy ending#angst#grovel#jealousy
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
MY FIANCÉ’S REACTION TO MY NEW PERFUME GONE WRONG?
cw: pheromone perfume, messy head (both receiving), you n bo are engaged, 69, you’re picked up by bo, reader is wearing make up, minors n ageless blogs dni 🦋 sorry if bo is ooc this is just my interpretation of his reaction:3 enjoy!
♡ ༘*.ﾟ
“f-fuck! tarou wait!”
you’re not quite sure how you expected your fiancé to react to your new little perfume, but him being nose deep in your pussy wasn’t one of them. you placed a few, maybe two drops of the infamous scent into your palms and massaged them into the places bokuto loved to kiss most. you were pleased with the aroma, notes of a warm sugary vanilla that left you smelling delicious. however you were sure the reactions were faked and far from genuine, you had to see for yourself if this little pink vile would drive your man up the wall.
and that it did, you were thrown over his broad shoulders in an instant as he practically sprinted to your shared bedroom.
now you’re here, back arched and ass in the air as bokuto devours what’s his. your fists are balled into the satin sheets and you can feel his hot tongue delve deep into your drooly cunt, lapping up everything you have to offer him. “you keep teasin me,” he groans through gritted teeth, his voice haggard “wearin my jersey and skimpy panties around the house, sending me gym pics of that ass and now this shit? be glad i haven’t fucked your brains out yet.”
he lands a heavy smack to your ass, lapping at your sweetness as if his life depended on it. and even through your protests and whiny pleas for him to slow down, your hips betrayed you, squirming in an effort to feel his fat tongue drag up and down the crevices of your soaked pussy. “kou, baby- shiit! we’re gonna be late!” your honey laced moans fall on deaf ears, bokuto too entranced in his pleasure and yours. when he finally pulls away you can see your juices glistening and dripping down his chin, his tongue licking it off his slightly swollen lips.
you’re left with your face buried into the sweat slicked sheets, mascara left clumpy and smeared in your under lash line. you may think you’re done but bokuto hasn’t had his fix, his hand focused at the base of his heavy cock, pearly beads of pre leaking at his tip before it’s smeared along his pulsing shaft. “we aren’t going anywhere. now sit that pretty pussy on my face, and let me stuff that mouth full…”
strong forearms wrap around your thighs, your fiancés hand pushing you down to his lips before he’s at it again, his muffled hunger filled groans vibrating off the walls along with your moans. you lay on his toned thigh and mouth at his throbbing length until you work up the strength to take his leaky tip into your mouth. his hips buck up at the feel of the velvety textures of the inside of your mouth.
your hips and your mouth work in unison , both swiveling in a rhythm that has your soon to be husband left writhing underneath you and cursing his desires into your soaked cunt. “when we get married i’m gonna give you the fuckin’ world! treat you like the d-diamond you are, just please keep suckin’ me off like that!” and you return the same sentiments, whining and mewling with his dick in your mouth “mhm, anything you want baby! anythin’!” you pop him out of your mouth and lick at his sack, suckling him into your mouth as your hand focuses on his overly sensitive tip.
bokuto is about ready to blow his load, his core tightening and calves tensing up. he continues to slurp at your folds, saliva and your arousal dripping down his chin as his thumb rubs at your clit vigorously. “fuck! fuck! w-wait!” you squeal, thighs shaking thunderously around his head as you take him back into your mouth, tongue dragging along his shaft.
you can feel him throb, soon thick ropes of milky white fill your mouth, some of it leaking from the corners of your gloss smeared lips. you take it all in, swallowing his load as you ride his face feverishly. you’re so close and he knows it, continuing to strum at you clit while your nails dig into his calves and you cry “c-cumming! koutarou!!”
it’s safe to say the pheromone perfume everyone has been hyping up deserved it’s praise, leaving you more than satisfied.
“let’s just say the before and after pics of my make up say it all….” ★★★★★
813 notes
·
View notes
Note
Scuttling back in to say;
YOU MAKE ME WANNA WRITE MORE STUFF SO BADDDDD ITS SO GOOD
+
Would there possibly be room for a Dogday & Catnap scenario where reader came in sick, because they simply refuse to take sick days, and those giants just hate seeing them like that and just take care/help with work?
Keep up the good work buddy, I LOVE EATING READING IT
Gentle Giants
Note || AHA- thank you!
WC || 1,152
Sypnosis || your fuzzy companion refuses to let you overwork yourself, even in sickness.
CatNap –
You had him CONCERNED, and he doesn’t feel like that rarely for anyone else. Right off the bat when you come into work he can tell you are sick, he voices his concerns with Bobby who he thought of having good advice for a situation like this. She had suggested that he help take the load off of your workload at least, as you were stubborn and proclaim you can do work all by yourself.
CatNap didn’t want you to ever accidentally hurt yourself, seeing as how you will go to every corner of the factory to get your duties done – even if you had some work to do as a caretaker, just a temporary one. He decided that he had enough of it, seeing as how you’d only get worse when you're working.
Halfway through your shift, he decided to intervene, picking you up around the waist and laying you on his back despite your many protests to leave you alone. CatNap retorted with an audible snort, refusing to relent against your words. He’s seen what happens to employees when they come in sick, not taking a sick day off. No way would he allow that to happen to you. You simply were far too precious to CatNap, you were; kind, patient and gentle with him, despite his many times that he had treated you a little… rudely.
The insomniac cat thought it would be best to bring you to his sleeping place, clean and unmarked of his scratches (though save for the few claw marks here and there against the walls). His stretchy tail had elongated far enough to pick you up by the waist again, which in hindsight did startle you a little as you had gotten used to being on his back for a long period of time. Gently, CatNap settled you on his bed, promptly laying you down in the proper position as if he had done this all before – with children, of course he’d have this experience to do so. You were tired, lethargic, simply just flopping against the orange mattress and finding comfort in how springy and just comforting it was.
Truth be told, he did admit to snatching you away. Only to another employee who asked where you were, they were understanding once he had pointed out you were sick. People needed rest after all, and the employee knew you were quite the stubborn type. CatNap had finally returned with a blanket that was draped over his shoulder, and a bucket of water he held in his mouth alongside the rotund rag that laid at the silver edge top of the bucket. He had steady motions, setting down the bucket that was hanging from his mouth beside the large mattress bed. Soon enough, he had also finally covered you with the blanket, quiet enough as to not wake you as he had seen you fall asleep in his absence.
At first, he wasn’t sure what to do with the rag, just sitting there at the top of the bucket. But soon enough he had found a solution. CatNap had found one of the brand new fresh miniature smiling critters, who was alive like he was and filled the rag with water, then laid it across your forehead.
CatNap was glad, though he knew the process of having to wet the rag over and over again as it can get dry after some time.
DogDay –
Cuddly, protective and very stern when needed. DogDay was happy at first to see you coming to work again, but overtime it became less of happiness and more so concerned as he began to realize you were most likely sick. He took his thoughts to Bubba, as he knew him to be smart and informative for the most part. Bubba had told him you just were most likely sick, knowing how you didn’t like taking sick days off even if you really truly were sick.
DogDay needed a plan, action to help lessen the load on your shoulders. He won’t stand for the fact that you are working actively while being sick at the same time, heck even a dog like him knew this! He wanted you to get some proper rest, but how was he actually gonna be able to do so? But as ever, DogDay remained to be looking on the bright side of this as he asked Bubba once again what he should do. Bubba was very smart in comparison to him, he wasn’t that well informed with sickness himself.
Bubba had suggested that he take half of your workload at least, so he went exactly to do that, people had eyed him for his weird out of place appearance outside of where one usually would find him. He didn’t really care for it, just continuing to do your work load without your knowledge. When you had gone to do your other duties, you were waved off, confused as to why – they had told you someone had already done it all for you.
You were practically already done with your work for the whole day, you had a sneaking suspicion that you knew who had done half the work load for you. When you went to confront DogDay, he had admitted under the weight of your glare, saying he had done the other 50% of your work because you were sick. You were surprised to say the least, touched at the thought he did it because he knew you were sick. But you never told him, which raised a few brows from you.
“Aha, angel.. Dogs can be good at noticing things better than humans normally do.” He said with a tinge of nervousness. You sighed, walking up to hug him despite the vast differences in size that was comparable between you and DogDay. He was elated to know you weren’t angry, bending down to hug you, finally he had you trapped. DogDay picked you up, which had elicited a yelp from you, feeling he had now carried you bridal-style.
DogDay had insisted you needed rest, taking you with him as you relented to his insistence. Truly he was a leader and a friend till the end.
Both –
When the both of them team up, there is no way you are getting away with working while you're sick. They both reassure each other what they are doing is okay, they both care about you very much. CatNap just kind of drags you away, bringing you to his bed while DogDay had walked alongside him, checking your forehead for how hot your fever may be.
Luckily, DogDay slipped away while CatNap had set you up to be in a comfortable position while you were sleeping. DogDay came back with a bucket of water and a rag to administer to keep your fever down as much as possible.
With these two, you practically have nothing to worry about.
#poppy playtime#poppy playtime x reader#poppy playtime chapter 3#dogday poppy playtime#poppy playtime dogday#catnap poppy playtime#catnap
372 notes
·
View notes
Text
Anonymous said:
Live for your writing <3 I’ve read the batfam and I am quite literally obsessed
Could I ask for a piece about the batboys comforting batsis reader because she had/is having a panic attack? thank you so much!!! :D
Fight or Flight
Note: Hello lovely anon! I'm so glad you like my writing. You absolutely can, I hope you enjoy. Also I’m so sorry but I lost the original ask as my tumblr was acting up and I forgot to add tags the first time.
Warnings: Panic attacks, hurt/comfort kinda.
Word Count: 1k (short but sweet)
⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤
You had been feeling off all week. Not only was it Gotham’s busiest time of the year, which meant that you were constantly on your feet, but you also had a bunch of unfinished assignments to catch up on that were wearing you out. You had stupidly agreed to help Cass finish her assignments on top of your own and the load was becoming overbearing. On top of that, you didn’t have the heart to tell her that you couldn’t do them, which completely added to your stress level as it now meant you had to find the time to finish all of the paperwork.
You were still feeling overwhelmed as you suited up for patrol. You were out with your four brothers and you knew that the night would be busy. Gotham always was this time of year. The five of you had already stopped a few petty crimes and were making your way through the city. The silence that fell over the five of you allowed your mind to wander and you quickly became worked up over your increasingly large to-do-list and you began to hyperventilate. You just wanted to leave, but you knew you couldn’t. Conflicted, your heart began to beat faster and faster and your breathing got shallow and shallower like someone was cutting off your supply and-
You felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your chest was rising and falling in quick, sharp breaths as you tried to take in air that refused to come. Ridden with panic your body was completely tense as you fell behind your brothers, stopping in your tracks to clutch as your constricting chest. Trying to blink away the flood of tears that just fell heavier, you leaned against the wall. This only made you panic more as you knew that you needed to keep going with the patrol.
Dick had noticed that you had fallen behind. His trained ears noticed the absence of your light and smaller paced steps that contrasted against his and his brothers. He slowed his pace as he glanced behind him to try and spot you. The vigilantes eyes widened when he saw you clutching your chest and leaning desperately against the wall and for a heart-wrenching moment he thought that you had been injured. Turning on his heel he sprinted back toward you alerting your brothers who all followed quickly after seeing the cause of Dick’s sudden change in demeanour.
When they reached you, after what felt like too long but was actually only a matter of seconds covered by long strides, Tim was quick to search you for injury only to come back looking confused with his eyebrows turned down when he found you seemingly unscathed.
“What’s the matter, kid?” He asked frantically “Are you hurt?”
You shook your head and tried to give him an answer but all that came out was a ragged sob as you continued to clutch at your chest. Your heart pounded in your chest as you shook, surrounded by your brothers, and suddenly Damian clocked what was happening.
“She’s having a panic attack.”
You nodded somewhat recognisably as your brother's high alert switched off somewhat. Jason took your hands gently, moving them away from your suit that you were clutching and held them gently in his. He then eased you to the floor and crouched in front of you.
“Hey, Y/N/N. Look at me. You’re okay.”
The sound of his gentle voice and the feeling of his leather gloves in your hand grounded you somewhat and you managed to get your eyes to stop looking around sporadically and to focus on him.
“Good. Now deep breaths.” He moved your hand so that it rested over his chest to allow you to feel his steady rhythm.
“In and out, Little Wing. Follow Hood.” Dick added. He was still hovering over you anxiously as Jason tried to calm you down.
As you followed your brother's breathing, you found yours gradually slowing until it somewhat was back to normal.
Damian made his way over and sat down beside you to offer you some comfort. You were feeling slightly dizzy, and noticing he signalled for Dick to grab you some water from his pack. Damian took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re okay, sis.”
You sniffled, wiping away the last of your onslaught of tears. “Sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Little Wing.” Tim told you. “It happens to the best of us.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah.” Dick added. “I’ve totally freaked out during a mission before. We all have. In fact, just last week Damian-”
“Tt. We don’t need to talk about that.” Damian chided, rolling his eyes.
There was a moment of tender silence as you regained your composure before Jason asked:
“You wanna talk about it?”
You shrugged at them, bringing your knees to your chest. “I don’t really know what happened… I guess I’ve just had a bad feeling about tonight and I’ve been so stressed about all of my assignments I still need to write up. I guess it just all caught up to me at the wrong time.”
“Oh kid. I’m sorry none of us have been around to help. We’ve been so caught up in our own stuff that we’ve failed to notice that you might need help too.” Dick told you.
“How about we get you home so you can relax? Hm?”
“But…what about patrol?” You asked, voice raising an octave as you began to panic a little again “We can’t just miss it!”
“Bruce will understand.” Tim reassured you.
“And we’ll help you finish your assignments.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.” You protested.
“We’re your brothers, kiddo. It’s what we’re here for.”
#batfam x reader#Batfamily x reader#batfam x sister reader#Batfamily x sister reader#hurt/comfort#panic attack#Dick Grayson#dick Grayson x reader#dick grayson x sister reader#nightwing#nightwing x reader#nightwing x sister reader#Jason Todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x sister reader#red hood#red hood x reader#red hood x sister reader#Tim drake#tim drake x reader#tim drake x sister reader#red Robin#red robin x reader#red robin x sister reader#Damian Wayne#damian wayne x reader#dakian Wayne x sister reader#robin#robin x reader#robin x sister reader
443 notes
·
View notes
Text
cw: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, mentioned seungmin, fem!reader
getting pounded by minho while the other members are in the next room over, his hand clamped over your mouth so tight your head is spinning and you adore it
all you can hear is the slapping of skin and minho's grunts, accompanied by your muffled whimpers and the way he pressed kisses against your shoulder has your eyes rolling back
he's so deep you swear you can feel him in your pelvis and you've been going at it so long your bodies are practically glued together with the sweat dripping off of both of you
soon enough, the boys will get concerned that it's been quiet for so long and come looking - there's only so much a stupid movie playing in the background can cover up
you clench at the thought of one of the members catching you like this, and you pray that minho won't notice, or care enough to question it
of course, he's smarter than you give him credit for and he chuckled against your skin, the lines of his smirk practically imprinted on you
"thinking about them coming to find us, hmm? seeing you like this, all spread out for mine like you should be?"
god, you hate that he knows you so well
"wouldn't that be a shame? probably traumatise poor felix. jeongin would move out. but what about seungmin, huh?"
your eyes rolled again, and you're just glad he can't see your face right now or you know he'd tease you forever
"now, seungminnie... i bet he'd like it. maybe a little too much, if you know what i mean?"
of course you did, but you weren't going to stop him talking now - not with the way your stomach was twisting and your chest pounding
his hips almost seemed to speed up as he continued talking, and it was then that you knew you had something to use against him
"maybe i'd let him watch. let him jerk his pathetic cock at me fucking you... or maybe we'd switch. maybe i'd let him take my place, and you could put on a show for me."
your thighs shook as you pushed your ass back against him to meet his thrusts, orgasm so close that you could almost taste it
"i reckon you could ruin him. have him whining and whimpering the way you usually do while you ride him. make him a complete bitch, yeah?"
you cried out into his hand, knowing he was close to his release too and wanting to finish together, but holding back was so, so hard
"you wanna make seungminnie a messy slut, yeah? put on a show for me, show me how much of a good girl you really are-- oh fuck, c'mon, baby, cum for me-"
your knees buckled as you came, the feeling overwhelming as minho's load shot inside of you
he took his hand away from your mouth, peppering you with kisses as he pulled out, but the silence couldn't be kept for long
"i'm gonna clean you up, and then we're gonna talk more about this, yeah?"
(a/n: scheduled post!)
-> don’t forget to reblog or comment if you like my works ♡ please refrain from modifying, translating, or copying my work. - © mixtape-racha
tags ✮⋆˙ : @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @taeriffic @mits-vi @chanssmiles @5kayzee @queen-klarissa @torixx80 @fawnpeaks @bangtanmix73 @savluvsmingi @boi-bi-ahaha @skz-streamer @demetrisscarf @manj1ro @linocvpid @alextheweeb7 @chans-american-slave @unsweetenedpeatea @carpioassists @bangtancultsposts @reiheis @happilydeepestwonderland @leemidnightmoon @watariisbestboy @hwangrimi @weedforthoughtz @ivyisnotokay @yevene @puckmaidens @poody1608 @vampcharxter @ilcveyouu @yeetmehome @prettymiye0n @bratty-tingz @diorrxluvskz
#mixtape-racha#mixtape-hard thoughts ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗#143 i luv queue ✮⋆˙#stray kids minho#stray kids fic#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#skz fic#skz smut#lee minho fic#minho smut#minho fic#lee minho x reader#lee know fic#lee know smut#lee know x reader#aria: lino fics 🎧✮₊˚⊹#aria: skz fics 🎧✮₊˚⊹
669 notes
·
View notes
Text
JINGLE BALLS !
ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
tags. p in v, daddy-daughter incest, leon is creepy ngl, dub-con at first then consensual, daddy issues, you get compared to your mom lots, creampie, daddy kink
note. HAII sorry for this being late omg :3 umm this is weird and jolty and the plot im not totally happy with but :333 ignore typos or I will cry!! feedback and reblogs always so appreciated :3
tumblr removes fics that use tw non-con, tw incest and any nsfw tags in general. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags so i can have the same reach as other authors, please understand that these fics contain dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.
“Pumpkin!” Your dad’s embrace is stiff per usual. This guy - he seriously needs a lesson in intimacy. Can’t go hugging your daughter the same way you do a girlfriend. Dads shouldn’t put their hands below your midriff. They certainly shouldn’t grip your hips and pull you close with such fervour, now you’re tit to tit with the man who gifted you your pornstar rack. And it’s a bit awkward to say the very least.
“Hi, dad.” He backs off, skittish when he hears your tone of voice. Flat and clipped.
“Sweetpea, I’m so glad you’re here,” Leon starts, he’s laying it on super thick, “We’re gonna have a lot of fun.” Oh, you’re exhausted already.
“Mhm.” You nod in disinterest as you toe off your shoes, place them beside his mud-caked boots. Leon is your dad. Your dad is just a guy to you. One that’s around never, you see him seldom and from afar. He’s not exactly awful, but he’s nothing great. A little touchy if anything, and enthusiastic in a way that comes across as disingenuous.
The only thing you really know about Leon is that he’s your dad, he works with the government, and he’s still hung up on your mom. You can tell from a mile away. Looks at her like she crafted the earth itself, mapped out the stars, plucked them from the sky to make him a new moon. Totally whipped for a woman who forgets he exists until major holidays roll around. And you get it honestly, your mom is pretty, fun, and she’s all you’ve got. So you might take after dad in that sense.
You’ve seen the kinda women he brings home. That time you caught him mid disgusting, nasty, abhorrent sex act that you’ve only seen in porn. Had this poor girl’s head tilted so far back, blonde curls like liquid gold running along her back, brushing the swell of her ass, his arm wrapped around her neck - like, was he trying to fucking kill her? Well, she liked it clearly. That’s beside the point, when you saw her face the following morning, her sheepish smile and the slant of her eyes - you got it. Mom. She looked like mom. You overheard him telling her she was too young for him, a college girl, his daughter’s age - only after he came down her throat though. What a creep.
Then there was his girlfriend from a few years back, this chick who popped her gum too loud, bossed him around and got him to pay for a new set of acrylics weekly. It was uncanny the resemblance between her and mom. What next? You? Is it your turn to be pursued by Leon, by dad? The only thing you’ve got from him is tits, busty like your daddy, pretty like your mommy. And he fucking knows it. You know he does.
Leon places a hand on your lower back. Like, way lower back, the spot a boyfriend would touch when he wants to initiate a quickie. You shiver, glance at him through your peripheral as he guides you to the lounge, the wooden floor is so cold you feel it through the fabric of your winter socks. This dude is loaded and he can’t even get heated floors installed? Not even for lil ol’ you? His daughter? The one that resembles his one true love?
There’s a red box that contains a gingerbread house sitting on the coffee table, you groan inwardly. Here we go with the bonding activities, it’s so forced it makes your skin crawl. His Christmas tree is, well, it’s a tree alright, crudely and hastily decorated with a sparse amount of baubles and god-awful paper crafts you gave to him as a toddler. Aw, the sentiment is there though, kinda cute. You’ll cut dad some slack.
By the time midnight rolls around, you realise cutting dad even the slightest bit of slack was a mistake. “Take that off.” You jab a finger into his stomach, met with sinewy, toughened flesh. Woah, dad’s still got it going on. “It’s ugly, and I’m not twelve, dad.”
“Moving fast.” Leon - your dad, biological, held you as a baby, rocked you to sleep at night - wiggles his eyebrows at you. All while dressed in a Santa suit by the way, ‘cause that is one very important piece of information. He looks fucking ridiculous. It’s the same one he used to pull out when you were a kid, back when you actually gave a shit about him, what he thought about you, whether he even wanted you. ‘Cause if your daddy wanted you, why was he away so often? Told mom to jingle his balls once, an unsavoury recurring memory that you’d like to forget.
“Oh, dad, that’s actually really concerning, like, I’m not gonna lie.” You frown at him so hard the wrinkles that form on your forehead become permanent. “Don’t say that to me.”
“I was messing around.” He defends, “Christ, what is up with you today? Got a stick up your ass or somethin’? Y’know, in my day, kids used to be able to take jokes.” Now he’s pouting like a toddler in a sour mood.
“That was not a joke, dad!” You don’t mean to raise your voice, but it happens and within seconds he’s sat on the couch dejected. This fucking dude. Ugh. He’s pathetic. How did he manage to bag a hottie like your mom?
“I just want you to love me, sweetheart.” Here we go again. Leon sighs hopelessly as he slumps back into the cushions, and you can’t take him seriously when he’s wearing a fucking Santa hat.
“I do love you, dad.” And you do. Honest. Really. Like, pinky promise. You love him out of obligation - he’s your dad, and you’re meant to love your dad. Doesn’t mean you like him though. In your very objective-totally-not-biased view, your dad is just a bit unlikeable. A bit of a strange one.
“Yeah?” He lightens up, “You love me?” God, it’s like he gets off on it. Oh, you’re just being mean now. You scoot closer to him, lean in for an awkward side hug.
“I do, dad. I love you.” You don’t have the courage to look at him. Leon’s arm snakes around your waist, and you know what’s coming. How much do you love me?
“How much do you love me?” Called it. Up until now it’s been a harmless question, but when you face him, gaze flitting from his eyes to his nose to his lips, the general wear and tear of his aged face - it’s different. This time you won’t be able to get away with the regular bout of flattery, wax poetry about how much you love him, how you wouldn’t want anyone else but him to be your daddy. When in reality, you’d swap out Leon for any poor sod. They wouldn’t leave you hanging so damn often.
“A lot, dad.” You turn your head to roll your eyes, getting it out of your system proves worthy, now you can plaster your mommy’s smile onto your face, the one he loves so much. “So much, you know that, don’t you?”
“Just don’t seem like it, pumpkin.” Leon gives you a sideways glance, “I’m trying… I wanna make it up to you, y’know? For how much I was away.”
“Dad, you don’t have to do that. I’m over it.” You’re not. But, you’re good at pretending you are. “I don’t need you to make it up to me.” You do. Oh, you so do. You need it to a devastating degree. “Like, I’m not a kid, I don’t want Santa, and I don’t wanna make fuckin’ gingerbread houses, or watch Home Alone-“
“What, so you’re a big girl now?” He tilts his head to the side, there’s an edge to his voice that’s hard to decipher. Don’t know if it’s good or bad.
“Well, I’m not little anymore, dad.” You gasp when he tries to take a subtle glimpse down your shirt.
“I can see that.” Leon pokes his tongue into the corner of his cheek.
“Yeah, and I saw that!” When you go to stand, his grip becomes almost crushing, wanting to hold you in place so badly. For a moment it’s scary, only for a moment, this is just dad. Just Leon. He’s harmless. As lame as he is, your dad wouldn’t hurt you.
“I didn’t do nothing, baby, c’mere, don’t be like that.” Dad pets your head, and it reminds you of your childhood bedroom. “I’m sorry, alright? I never spent Christmas with just you, and I wanted to make it good for you.”
“I know, dad, and I appreciate it, just don’t need you to get all weird about it. Like, we can just— we can just be normal about it. Don’t have to do all this shit, I just want us to be normal.” Normal, huh? Neither of you can do normal, and you’re fully aware of that. ‘Cause your dad is a freak, and you can’t exactly drain Kennedy blood all that easy. You’ll be your father’s daughter even when he’s dead. “Like, I really, I really can’t deal with this whole Santa thing, did you really expect me to like it? I’m not a baby.”
“I just thought it’d be cute.” Cute? What is cute about a grown man in a Santa costume that’s covered in a thin layer of dust, dug out from the boxes he still hasn’t managed to open ten years after the divorce? “Listen, baby, I’m sorry, alright? I’m real sorry, look at me,” Leon cups your cheek, stares into your eyes with his gentle ones, “Dad’s sorry, yeah? I’m just stupid sometimes.”
“You are,” you nod, “but, I’m sorry too.” No, you’re not. Just saying it so he doesn’t drag this on, so he doesn’t call up your mom and tell her you’re not having a good time. Then your mom will be down your throat, your dad’s missed you, and you missed him too, you should be nicer to him, he tries his best, darling! “You, like, went through all that effort, and I didn’t even say thank you, I just got mad at you— so I’m sorry, dad.”
“Oh, baby,” he coos, shifts so he can bring you into his chest, cheek squished against one of his fat tits, god, why’re they so big, you swear it’s bigger than both of yours combined. “It’s alright, I know you’re growing up, and I’m sorry for treating you like a baby, it’s just, it’s hard ‘cause you’re my little girl, y’know?” Not true. You’ve always been a mommy’s girl. Dad is an acquaintance.
“Yes, I know, dad.” You blink at him, he melts, traces your cheekbone with his thumb. Thank god he took that dumbass hat off, you couldn’t take him seriously.
“Gosh, baby, you look just like your mama.”
“I know, dad.”
“Crazy, ain’t it?” Leon kisses your forehead, “Only got these from me, and nothin’ else, huh?” Dad gropes your tits. The man that put a baby in your mother, that baby being you, obviously, the man whose name is on your birth certificate— the man who has given you his name, is groping your tits. “Certainly not from mommy are they?”
You shake your head. In agreement though. ‘Cause you can’t deny it, your mom’s as flat as a board. It feels weird, yes. But not bad. Maybe you’ve detached Leon from the title of ‘dad’ to the point where it doesn’t even matter anymore. It’s wrong, so you go to stop him, but he’s unyielding in his perversion.
“You look like your mommy down here, baby?” Dad asks, he cups your pussy through your jeans with his big hand. “Can daddy see?”
You shake your head again. Slowly. This time a flimsy no, one that teeters on the boundaries of a yes. You do owe him, you’ve been acting like a bitch ever since you arrived in D.C. Making a right fuss the moment you stepped through the door. Poor guy put the rather intricate gingerbread house all together by himself, he’s dressed as fucking Santa, all ‘cause he thought you’d like it. How bad can it be? Not like fucking your dad could land the two of you in jail, right? Well, it could, but that’s not the point.
“No? C’mon, sweet girl, dad just wants to see,” Leon’s plump bottom lip juts out, you kinda sit there for a minute, then lay back on the couch. What have you got to lose? You have no emotional attachment to this man. You do. It’s not weird at all. God, it’s so weird you want to claw your skin off. “That’s a good girl.” He butters you up while he unbuttons your jeans, taps your hips so you lift ‘em up and off they pop, jeans thrown to the ground. “Oh, look at her, baby, how sweet, just like mama,” Leon rests your left leg on his shoulder, holds the ankle of your right one to spread you open. “You think she likes it like mommy did?”
“How did… How did mom like it, dad— daddy?” You correct yourself, feel this horrible churning in your stomach. Both nausea and need flooding your shaky body.
Leon presses his wide nose to the bump of your clit through your tight panties, there’s a wet patch that seems to get bigger and bigger the more he sniffs around down there. He lifts his head, rests it on your thigh as he slides them to the side, sticky, gooey arousal stringing apart, sticking to the seat of your undies like PVA glue when he separates the fabric from your soaked centre. “She liked it real sloppy, baby.” With that, he spits on your drippy cunt, runs his finger through your folds, pinches your clit. “Daddy’s gonna give it to you just how mom liked it, alright?”
“Okay, dad,” you tell him breathlessly, hands clasped together as you try to calm your nerves. The warmth of his breath on your puffy clit is enough to make you shiver, he spreads you open with his index and middle fingers, the tip of his tongue traces along the centrefold of your cunt. Then Leon grows agitated by the way your panties insist on snapping back in place, so he has a little wrestle with them and your limp legs, once they’re off he tucks them into his pocket for safekeeping. Santa’s back pocket.
Sweetly, he kisses your clit, sucks on it like he’s getting to the centre of your cunt, blows a raspberry on it - you’re so wet it’s pooling beneath your ass. Leon spreads your cheeks to lick into your cunt, press his nose into it real nice ‘n deep, smacks his lips against your fat pussy, stubble smeared with your slick. Leaking all over your dad’s pretty face, letting your dad tug your clit between his teeth and fuck his tongue into your tight hole. “Should stop shaving.” Is all dad says once you cream on his face, “Your mama didn’t.” Okay, didn’t need to know that, but here you are, dad’s fat cock hard and heavy against your thigh. So you guess fucking him comes at that expense - finding out all sorts of details about their wild sex life. To be honest, you pegged Leon as the kinda guy who knows what missionary is and missionary only, not that you ever thought about that before. He unbuckles his belt, unthreads the prongs from the holes one by one, and drops his red Santa pants. Good riddance.
“Dad,” you whimper when he sits you up, handles you like a dolly. The tight-fitted Santa coat stretches around his biceps when he scoops you up, puts you on his lap, gosh, you’ve never really noticed those. Maybe that’s what your mom saw in him. Big blue eyes and big tits and big fucking arms. This Santa attire is really fucking you up, it’s hard to take him seriously.
“Your mommy’s real good at riding cock, y’know that, pumpkin?” Leon squeezes your ass, you feel him. All of him. His clothed cock grinding upwards into your bare cunt, a toothy grin stretching his lips as he watches the way your lips squish together. Yeah, fat pussy, so what. Get over it, creep. “Best I ever had she was, best fuckin’ pussy,” he licks up the sweat dripping down your collarbones, “but you’re made for me, ain’t you, baby?”
“Yes, dad.” You don’t know what else to say, breath stuttering when he sits you down on his cock. Thick and fairly long in all the ways a dick should be, you suppose. Look at that, giving a review of your dad’s cock. How far you have come. Fucking degenerate cock critic. It sure does feel good, his tip nestled snug against your cervix, pulsing within the silky walls of your tight cunt. Feel every vein, how his tip leaks pre endlessly, how it twitches when you clench around him.
“Baby, you’re such a big girl now,” Dad kisses you smack-bang in the middle. On your pouty lips. The ones that remind him of your mom, same lips that sucked his cock in the marriage bed, same eyes rolling back into your skull when he begins to rock his hips into you. “Takin’ daddy’s cock so well, aren’t you? Better than mommy.” Almost, he wants to add. You know he does. He’s so predictable.
There are no words in your brain, only able to let out shaky breaths and the occasional yelp as he takes you, grabs your hips and bounces you up and down on his cock. “Fuck, wait, let me— let me-“ he doesn’t finish his sentence, instead he’s sliding you off and bending you over the couch. “Better like this.” That’s ’cause you look like mom from behind. Same hair, same hips, same perky ass. Leon fucks you harder, his strokes deeper, knocking his cock into your poor cervix with his brutal thrusts. Your nails scratch at the cracked leather of his couch, unable to help the way you moan for him, it’s so embarrassing, even more so when your hips begin to move on their own, fucking yourself back on dad’s dick.
Each thrust is harder than the last, god, is he trying to go through you? Put you in A&E ‘cause his cock got tangled in your intensities? “Is this… Is this how mom likes it, dad?” You manage to get out through a stifled groan, he digs his teeth into your neck, licks a stripe over the tender skin then tugs at your hoop earring with his teeth.
“Your mom likes it even harder, baby,” Leon snickers, “your mama is a dirty bitch.” You gasp, tighten around him involuntarily, your pussy behaves in mysterious ways. “She liked it when I did this,” his hand comes down on your ass hard, you squeal, almost lose footing and fall face-first into the couch cushions. “And when I pulled her hair, and slapped her tits, and spit down her fuckin’ throat.” Your mom is one nasty bitch, good on her. Personally, you’re new to it all. “You want that?”
“I don’t know, dad.” You say helplessly, thighs trembling when he reaches round with his nimble fingers to rub neat circles into your bud, so you come undone around his cock. Coat the shaft in cream, drip slick down his balls. You muffle your moans into a pillow, painted toes curling against the wooden floor, suddenly thankful for his lack of underfloor heating - ‘cause you’re sweating like a pig.
Your body trembles with aftershocks as he continues to fuck you through it, helps his little girl out by kissing the wet nape of her neck, a big hand on her waist to steady her. Sweat prickles your skin, jolting as he gives one last sloppy push into you, hips jerking as he unloads all he’s got to give and you milk him just right. ‘Cause you know, you’re his kid, made for him. That’s why he fits like a glove. Born to get your cunt bred by dad. You think he says your mom’s name into your hair, but you don’t question it, slumping over in exhaustion.
“Dad, can you just do me a favour and take that off, please? I’m really tired and it’s pissing me off.” You curl up on the sofa, uncaring of the seed that drips out and trickles down your plush thighs.. Leather’s easy to clean.
“Why? I like it. Don’t you think it’s cute, sweetpea?” Normalcy or what the two of you consider normal returns.
“No, take it off, or I’m taking the next flight home.”
“Alright, pumpkin.”
#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy smut#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut
458 notes
·
View notes
Text
Apples and Pumpkins - Lando Norris
<word count - 3106>
warnings - not proof read
Lando loved Halloween for a few different reasons. He found it fun, he loved dressing up with you, and he missed out on it a lot when he was a kid due to karting, so he was glad that he got to experience it with you.
"Lando, I'm sure it's really not that bad!" You called into your bedroom, since all you could hear was Lando complaining about his costume. Every year, you both dressed up in matching costumes, but he wasn't sounding overly zealous about what he was this year.
You had suggested many ideas to him, but he wasn't feeling some of your favourites. You wanted to go as Fred and Daphne from Scooby Doo, but he didn't want to wear the wig, that also discounted Traditional Barbie and Beach Ken.
You also liked the sound of going as a Disney Princess, and he could be your prince, but he said it was 'too basic'. In the end, you had settled on Mario and Peach, since you got to be a princess and Lando just had to stick a fake moustache on with dungarees.
"But you look good, I look shit!" he shouted back, but you still hadn't seen what he looked like. "Please just come out," you said, crossing your arms and leaning against the wall. You had been stood there for a while, and he refused to come out.
"Please," you asked again, and you heard some shuffling coming from the other side of the room. You saw Lando, trudging over to you with a pout on his face. You had to choke back a laugh as you took in the outfit.
The Mario costume he had bought off the internet clearly didn't fit him as the fabric hung off his figure, and his hat pretty much covered his eyes. The moustache was the only thing that seemed to be working, until half of it fell off and it was dangling against his top lip.
"Please don't laugh..." he mumbled as you held a hand over your mouth to shield the amused smile that was forming on your lips. "It's really not that bad," you muttered, your voice slightly breaking in a chuckle.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me it's not that bad," he said, his eyes meeting yours. You took a deep breath, trying to muster all of the composure you could before speaking. "It's not that-" you started, when his moustache fully fell off and fluttered to the floor.
You lost all sense of equanimity, a high-pitched giggle escaping your lips as Lando sighed. "Right, I'll go put on a suit, you go and get one of your nice dresses on and I know you have a tiara lying around somewhere, and we'll go as a prince and princess," he huffed.
"No, baby, no, c'mere," you softly smiled, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom. You had picked his moustache up on the way, and were now rummaging through your make-up bag. Applying some of the lash glue to his moustache, you stuck it to him and were sure it would stay there until you had to find a way to get it off later.
"Problem one, solved," you told him, before getting started on the next task. You pulled a small box of safety pins out of the bag, and pulled together some of the fabric of the straps on his dungarees to pull them up a bit.
It already made his costume look miles better, and you could tell that Lando thought so too. "Better?" you asked, hoping it would bring him some form of contention.
"Yeah, loads," you nodded, a small grin forming across his face as he looked at himself in the mirror. "Thank you, baby," he said, pulling you close to him and kissing you gently on the forehead. "No problem, you ready to go?" you smiled.
"Yeah," he nodded, taking your hand and walking out onto the streets. There were loads of people out, mainly kids with their parents going trick-or-treating. Lando and you were off to Max Fewtrell's for some Halloween games.
There was never any decent prizes, but you always had fun when you played. You were there within ten minutes, just waltzing into his apartment like you always did. "Max? Get your ass out here!" Lando shouted.
"I'm here-" he started, but his face dropped when he saw yours and Lando's costumes. Max was basically wearing the same thing as Lando, but in green. It was slightly ironic, since they were like brothers, but they both looked far from impressed.
"You just had to copy me, didn't you Lando?" Max rolled his eyes as he crossed his arms, looking at his curly haired friend. "We have been planning this for weeks! I bet you only figured yours out yesterday," Lando pouted.
"I did not!" Max countered, looking genuinely offended, but you could see that there was a hint of levity in his voice. "You two, it's fine. Now we're all matching," you laughed as both of their heads snapped towards you. "But baby, we look great. Max looks average at best," Lando whined.
"Get over it, we are matching now, and there is nothing we can do," you said, flicking him on the nose as he let out a pained shriek. "Hey, that hurt," he moped, rubbing his nose.
"You're too cute sometimes," you smiled, before turning back to Max. "What Halloween festivity do we have first, Max?" You asked, trying to divert attention away from the costume copy.
"First-up, we have apple bobbing. On each of the apples, I have carved a number. Whoever gets the highest number at the end, wins," he gleefully clapped, leading you through the apartment. Max quickly forgot about the short-lived costume controversy, but you could still hear Lando huffing behind you.
You walked into the bathroom, and he had filled the bathtub up and the surface of the cold water was covered in red apples. "OK, who's going first?" you excitedly asked, ready to start the fun. "We can rock paper scissors for it?" Lando piped up, a smile cracking onto his face.
"Lando, rock, paper, scissors!" Max said, throwing his hand into a fist in front of Lando. In turn, Lando set his hand out flat, in front of Max, before covering the fist. "OK, Y/N, rock, paper, scissors!" Lando smirked, adoring that he had defeated Max.
Sure, it was a small, meaningless competition, but it was a competition nonetheless. You thought you'd go for the same move, but Lando had somehow outsmarted you, winning with a pair of scissors. "I'm a gentleman, so I'll say ladies first," he sincerely smiled at you.
Without hesitation, you sunk down to your knees in front of the bathtub, tying your blonde wig behind your head to keep it from getting wet, and setting your tiara aside. "Now that is a sight I love to see," you heard Lando mutter.
Slowly, you picked up an apple out of the bath, before suddenly hurling it at him, water droplets spraying around the room. It hit him in the chest with a wet thud, so not exactly where you were aiming. "Hey! What was that for?" he whined, rubbing the damp patch on his chest.
"I heard that comment of yours, Norris," you scowled, turning back to the tub.
"Oh you're in trouble, Norris," Max sniggered, nudging Lando in the ribs with his elbow.
"You too, Fewtrell," you laughed, before submerging your face into the water. The cold of the liquid on your face made you want to open your mouth and take a breath, but you quickly realised that would end in disaster.
You took some time, before your teeth sunk into the flesh of one of the apples. You pulled your face out, opening your eyes to see Lando filming the ordeal. "Really?" you sighed, taking the apple out of your mouth.
"It's just for me," he smirked, shooting you a sly wink. You rolled your eyes at him, turning the apple over. You couldn't help but frown, as you saw a number two scratched into the bottom. "Well that's disappointing," you said, standing and showing them the apple.
Lando went next, pulling out a four, so not much better. As if by magic, Max came out with a perfect ten. You and Lando exchange a dubious glance, automatically thinking something fishy was up. Before your next turn, Lando dipped his hand into the water and swished it around.
The apples bumped against each other and the sides as they floated around in the waves he was creating, and you watched Max's eyes slightly widen. You smirked, dipping your head back into the water. The coolness was still a slight shock, but you found your next apple a lot easier this time.
Your teeth sunk into it with a satisfying crunch as bubbles floated to the top of the water. "And that is a perfect ten," you laughed as you turned the apple over. Max plastered a smile onto his face, but you could tell it was false.
Lando went, producing an eight this time. It wasn't enough to win, but it was still good. Max wasn't looking too zealous anymore, but both you and Lando knew that. As Max bent over to retrieve his final apple, Lando spread his hand across the back of his head and dunked him all the way in.
When he came back up for a panicked gasp of air, Max was staring daggers at Lando. "Are you trying to drown me?" he asked, picking up another apple and throwing it at him.
"What is it with you two and throwing wet apples at me?" he joked, swiping the apple up off the floor and reading the number as one. "Cheaters don't win, Max. But you already knew that," you teased, as Max's cheeks flushed red. "I don't know what you're talking about," he stuttered.
"I just thought you looked a bit... Surprised when we mixed the apples up," Lando added, cocking an eyebrow at his friend. "Like I said, I don't know what you're talking about," he giggled, scampering out of the bathroom.
"Next up, we have pumpkin carving!" he collared, quickly skirting around the topic of him cheating. He didn't win anyway, so it wasn't really a huge deal. You thought it was funny that he tried it on with the two of you, though.
The dining room table was decorated with some faux-autumn leaves, some little tea light candles, and three huge pumpkins. There were also a few, smaller pumpkins dotted around for the extra autumnal feel. "Y/N, since you won-"
"Barely," Lando interjected, and you whacked him playfully in the shoulder.
"You get five minutes extra, and we have 15 minutes each. First though, we can draw on our designs before we have to start slicing chunks out of our pumpkins," Max wiggled his arm towards the three pumpkins on the table, and you selected the one in the middle so that no fights would break out.
"Max, I want to know what you're doing beforehand, just so you don't copy me again," Lando teased, sitting down to your left as Max sat down to your right. "Oh you'll know what it is as soon as you see it," Max smirked, taking the lid off his pen with a click.
"And so will you," Lando smugly retorted, setting off to work on his pumpkin. You also set to work on your pumpkin, but you were taking more care with yours than the other two were. You had drawn on your face, and the other two were still furiously scribbling on theirs.
You had made it easy enough to carve, but also complex enough that it would look impressive once the lights were inside. "Y/N, you now have 20 minutes to gut and carve your pumpkin, off you go," Max announced as you got stuck in.
You pulled the top off, sinking your hand in and scooping out handfuls of the seeds and flesh that was in the pumpkin. It felt like slime as you flicked it into the bowl, and it left your hands cold and slippery. But, you didn't have time to waste.
Just as you picked up your knife, Max and Lando were able to start on their pumpkins. You tried to ignore their bickering as they hurled empty insults at each other over your head. You were too busy concentrating on making your pumpkin look perfect.
The boys started aggressively shivving at the tough, orange flesh of their canvas. Lando had his tongue stuck out of the side of his mouth as his mind was fully centered on making his masterpiece perfect.
Disappearing into the kitchen, you reappearing with two barbeque skewers in your hands. Lando and Max skeptically looked at you, wondering what on earth you could possibly need those for. "There's a method to my madness," you smiled, sticking one into either side of the pumpkin on the diagonal.
"Can I use these?" You asked, selecting two of the similarly sized smaller pumpkins that you thought would fit what you were wanting. "Sure," Max nodded, quickly focussing back onto the strenuous and arborous task of pumpkin carving.
You stuck the pumpkins onto the skewers, and you stood back and admired your work. But, you noticed the lack of a dancing orange flame illuminating the face of an icon of childhoods for the past century.
Glancing over at the clock, you saw there was only a minute left, and Max and Lando were frantically scrambling to try and get theirs finished. The timer shrilly buzzed, and they both practically threw their knives down on the table.
Slumping down in their seats, they were glad for it to be over. Max side-eyed your pumpkin and audibly signed. "You know what? Y/N, you can't win this round. You've got to pick between ours," he huffed.
"Fine," you rolled your eyes, realising that you would have clearly won. The other two just had random holes butchered into it. "Max, yours is clearly a depiction of..." you hummed, trying to decipher what the random circles and box were.
He pointed to a small carving that he had made on the image. "Is it Lando?" you asked, after seeing the LN4 that he had clearly scribbled on in the last seconds in a poor attempt to make it recognizable. "I think I automatically win because you could tell what mine was," Max triumphantly smirked.
"Absolutely not, if you see mine I will win," Lando pouted, pushing his pumpkin in your direction. "OK, OK, I will look at yours, Lando," you agreed, your eyes scanning over the image - well, what was supposed to be an image.
"I, uhm, I-" you fumbled, trying to think of what Lando might have drawn versus what you were seeing in front of you. "Baby, c'mon," he whined, brandishing his hand towards it harder as if it would instantly make you discern what it is.
"OK, look," he said, picking the pumpkin up and holding it next to Max's head in a final attempt to make his image known. "Is it Max?" you sighed, realising what he was going for. But, it was very far off the real thing. "Yeah," he nodded, a smug smile on his face.
"I'm sorry babe, but Max's is a bit more... Realistic, true to life," you said, looking at Lando as his face dropped. "Yes!" Max cheered, running over to the couch and hopping onto the comfiest spot. "Lando, since you lost, you have to get drinks and snacks for the night," Max collared like a child.
"It's only fair," you shrugged, leaving Lando stood with his pumpkin in the middle of the kitchen floor. The three of you watched a couple of movies, while also receiving a noise complaint due to the loudness of your screams.
You thanked Max for another fun Halloween, and promised to do it at yours next year so that he wouldn't have to clean up by himself. As soon as you stepped foot outside, Lando grabbed you and slung you over his shoulder as he carried on walking.
"It's time for the princess to go back to her tower, since Mario has realised that she is disloyal and can't even let him win the pumpkin carving competition," Lando laughed, as you tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
"Ah, I'd be careful, you might fall," he tutted, tightening his grip on you as you felt like a sack of potatoes while he carried you. You didn't bother protesting, knowing he would definitely backchat you back. At least you didn't have to walk.
"Now how about we make Halloween a little more spooky?" He smirked, putting you down on your feet as he stood you against the wall. He leant into kiss you as he pinned your body with his, but you couldn't help but giggle. "I'm sorry, I can't take you seriously when you have that moustache on and that costume," you laughed, the sounds echoing around the now empty streets.
"Please just let me kiss you? Then we can go home, and I can take the moustache off and you won't find me funny anymore," he pleaded. You didn't say anything, in fear of laughing at him again. You leant in to give him what he wanted so that you could get rid of that goddamn moustache, but then you heard something.
"You OK?" Lando asked when your eyes averted to the other side of the street.
"Yeah, yeah," you nodded, sure you were just hearing things. It had sounded like footsteps, but nobody was there. Nobody was anywhere around you. You leant in again, but then there it was again. "Did you hear that?" Lando asked, instantly becoming sheepish.
"That's what I heard earlier," you said, and his face turned even more panicked. He took your hand and started to quickly walk down the street to your apartment. "Lando, it's nothing," you dismissed, eyes darting around the dark street.
"We don't know that!" he said, walking quicker to the point he was nearly running. "It's Halloween, that's when the spirits come out," he rambled, and you couldn't help but laugh. "It's true!" he protested.
"Fine, fine," you giggled behind him. Lando had never been superstitious, but you found it funny to see him so frazzled. Even if there were spirits out to get you, they were doing you a favour. You were on your way home, and you were going to get that god-awful moustache off of Lando, so you were the one winning, despite how spooked Lando was. It was spooky season, afterall.
A/N - I got this finished for today, but that doesn't mean it's any good. The Charles Special is the first thing on my to do list next time I get free time, and I am working through requests as often as I can. Sorry for all the lateness on everything, I will make it my mission to make the Christmas ones actually come out on Christmas. Same with Lando's birthday post, but that's less likely. Love you lots! 💖
|masterlist|
#f1#formula 1#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 x reader#f1 x y/n#fluff#formula 1 x you#formula 1 imagines#f1 imagines#formula 1 x y/n#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#ln4#ln4 x y/n#ln4 x reader#ln4 x you#ln4 imagines#ln4 fluff
445 notes
·
View notes
Note
obsessed with jude being your brother’s best friend and you guys secretly hooking up behind his back 🤭 and even though your both scared of how he’ll react when he finds out, the thrill of getting caught just makes the whole thing more exciting
him and your brother would go way back, and throughout their entire friendship he had never felt the need to announce that you were off limits. he assumed jude was aware of this, and he was. he knew messing with his honorary brother’s sister would make violating all sorts of boundaries, and he never planned on doing it. but when you saw each other that night at the party, the two of you looking so impeccable and feeling so madly drunk, it was obvious that all plans had gone on the window. since that night, the two of you had been looking for any free moment to be together.
your brother thought nothing of it when you walked downstairs mid-fifa game to come get a drink from the kitchen. he paid no attention to what you were wearing, which was one of jude’s jerseys over your shorts. what he also didn’t know, was that as you headed back upstairs, you gave jude that look that only hinted one thing to him. with a sweet smile, you headed back up to your room knowing he’d be meeting you in a matter of moments.
“gimme a sec, i have to go to the bathroom,” he announced, as he dropped the controller and walked briskly upstairs, skipping every second step just to get there quicker. almost the moment he arrived into the hallway, you were yanking him into your room and pulling him in by his shirt. “wow, you’re needy,” he muttered into the kiss. “you’re slow, i’ve been waiting for like two minutes,” you whined as you worked to remove his sweatpants hastily, rubbing your hands on him through your underwear.
he wasn’t as delicate in undressing you, choosing to yank your shorts down aggressively, before pushing you down on the bed. “you know this is really, really wrong,” you whined as he pulled down his boxers, letting his dick spring out. “really wrong,” he agreed, removing your underwear and tossing them aside.
“we shouldn’t do this,” you told him before letting out as a gasp as he slipped into you with ease, considering how wet you were. “but i’m glad we are,” he told you nonchalantly, lifting your legs onto his shoulders. he gave no time to allow you to adjust to his size, instead deciding that this quickie has to be exceptionally fast.
“oh, you’re so good at this,” you cried, as he rubbed your clip roughly. “fuck, how are you always so tight?” he grunted, throwing his head back in ecstasy. you knew you were both being a bit loud, increasing the risk of getting caught. but somehow that only turned you on more, and you knew it did the same for jude. no less than five minutes later, you felt your own climax approaching. from the twitching of his cock, you knew he felt the same.
“i’m so close,” you told him, fondling your own breasts as he fucked you harder into the mattress. “me too, i need to pull out,” he warned you. “no, i have to cum,” you argued, refusing to let him deprive you of what you’ve been craving since he prematurely pulled out yesterday when he was taking you from behind on the couch yesterday evening. “y/n, i-”
“jude, either hold in or do what you have to do, either way, you cannot pull out right now,” you whined, feeling him hit deeper and deeper inside of you with every thrust. the sensation of you squeezing around him was beyond unbearable. he tried holding it in for as long as he could but he knew it was no use. “fuck, i’m gonna come inside you,” he grunted out. “oh, please fill me up, i’m gonna cum too!” you sighed, feeling his load spurt every last drop that he had to give.
after catching your breath, and allowing him to throw on his clothes, he prepared to head downstairs. “you’re on the pill, right? i can go to the pharmacy if you need me t-”
“yes, i am the pill. no need for the pharmacy. in fact, if you finish up your fifa game a little early, we can try this again maybe. my brother’s got a shift later tonight. you won’t need to cover my mouth this time,” you told him, sending him a suggestive wink.
313 notes
·
View notes
Text
kinktober: hands
words: 900
warnings: 18+ only, smut, female receiving handjob
you didn’t expect to regret it so much when you asked rafe to help you prepare dinner. you thought it would be cute, working together in the kitchen, laughing and talking as you cook.
but you’re immensely distracted, watching his skillful hands move around what's usually your space, watching him use the nice to slice the vegetables, moving quickly before dropping them all into the bowl. you want to moan just from keeping your eyes on his fingers, and you know you’re embarrassingly wet under your skirt right now.
rafe doesn’t seem to notice at first, until you accidentally let an empty pan hit the ground because you’re too busy watching him dry his hands off after cleaning them.
“baby, what has gotten into you?” rafe laughs, picking up on how distracted and clumsy you’re being, so unlike how you normally are in the kitchen. “do you not like having me in here?”
“no!” you answer so quickly you feel a little embarrassed, shaking your head and clarifying, “no, i really like having you with me it’s just um… you’re a little distracting.”
“i can leave…” rafe says, taking a step towards the doorway.
“no, no.” you shake your head again. “distracting in… in a good way.”
“oh?” a smirk comes to rafes face, making your cheeks flare as you blush. “tell me then, princess, what specifically is distracting you?”
“your… your hands.” you admit, eyes dropping down his arms to watch them flex under your gaze.
“my hands?” rafe raises them, fake innocence on his face. “but honey, i’m just cooking, preparing our meal.”
“you’re being so unfair right now.” you say with a pout, glad you haven’t put any food on the burner yet so you could have this conversation.
“aw, honey.” rafe sighs, coming up and putting a hand on your face, cupping your jaw. “what can i do to make you feel better?”
you know the answer, and you know rafe knows the answer, but he’s not going to move until you say so. “finger me.”
rafe smiles, bringing your mouth to his as he pulls you into a searing kiss, letting him press your body against the counter, thankful for the amount of counter space in the large kitchen as rafe lifts you up onto the granite, keeping your hips right at the edge.
rafe pulls away from the kiss to look down at you as he flips the edge of your skirt up, pushing the fabric to reveal your panties. “so wet.” he tisks, reaching down and using his slender pointer finger to rub over the wet patch in your underwear. “and all of this if for my hands?”
“mhm.” you nod, letting out a moan when his finger drags up your pussy to rub over your clit.
“i guess i better use them to make you feel good, hm, honey? how does that sound?” rafe asks, pressing his fingers harshly over your clit, rubbing at them through the fabric to make it hard for you to answer, but you manage to gasp out a plea.
“yes, yes, please.”
rafe smiles and tugs at your underwear. you lift your hips so he can pull them off, tossing them somewhere onto the floor.
he pauses to give you a kiss before using one hand to spread your legs, the other rubbing circles around your entrance. you lean down to watch the way rafes hands move against your body, letting out a shout when one of his fingers suddenly plunges inside of you.
“shh, i thought this was what you wanted?” rafe asks. you respond with a whine, circling your hips to signal that you want more.
rafe chuckles and begins to thrust the finger in and out, but it’s still not enough, and soon you’re whining for more. rafe grants your wishes, pushing a second finger into you along with the first.
“this what you needed?” rafe asks, and you nod quickly, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure even though you really want to watch him continue.
rafe twists his hand, angling his fingers upward in a familiar motion, pressing against the spot that he knows is your favorite. you let out a load moan, hand coming to hold onto his wrist, not trying at all to stop him, but needing some sort of physical connection to your boyfriend.
“please, please.” you beg, and rafe knows exactly what you want when he uses his free hand to rub two fingers against your clit. “god, yes!” you cry out.
rafe smiles, pressing kisses to your cheek and jaw as you writhe on the counter in pleasure. he continues the steady pump of his fingers, knowing you’re not going to last much longer as your body starts to shake.
“go ahead, princess.” rafe says, fingers flicking and rubbing at your clit. “come for me. cum all over my hands.”
you let out one loud final moan as you follow his instructions, cumming hard, wetness rushing out of you and getting rafes hands all wet. he smiles as his fingers slow on your clit as you work through your orgasm, only pulling his hands away when you whine from being oversensitive.
he brings his two fingers that were inside of you to his mouth, lips wrapping around the digits and cleaning them of your juices. rafe offers you his other hand, and you quickly take the fingers into your mouth, sucking and bobbing your head on them as you taste yourself on his skin.
“now that you’ve gotten off, want to finish dinner?” rafe asks, gesturing towards the food waiting to be cooked.
“but rafe, what about you?” you ask, not failing to notice how hard he is in his pants.
“after.” rafe says, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “lets fill your tummy with food first.”
#reupload!#kinktober#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe x reader#rafe smut#rafe imagine#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x reader
535 notes
·
View notes
Text
F*** Diplomacy
Summary: On another relief mission, you find yourself in a sticky situation. Luckily there's a certain Commander to give you a hand.
Pairing: Commander Wolffe x reader
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, sorta sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex, grinding, clothed sex, growling, biting, brief blood, dirty talk, language, Wolffe being Wolffe, confession of feelings.
A/N: I wrote this in the bathroom during an IBS flare up so please forgive if it makes no sense. I am out of it like crazy but must share the smut with y'all because I have no self control.
MASTERLIST
You could laugh. You wouldn’t dare, though. Your sense of self-preservation is far too high to do something like that.
It was no secret your commander hates relief missions.
It's only natural your battalion was chosen to head another relief mission. You think Wolffe actually growled when the Generals ended the call.
You know how much Wolffe hates relief missions. At least this time his favorite droid won't be going. There was no need for a protocol droid this time. You were delivering supplies and setting up shelters after a Separatist attack. The Republic needs the continued support of this particular planet due to its location near two critical hyperspace lanes, so you were going to help keep the Republic in good graces in the eyes of the inhabitants.
You would have chosen anyone but Wolffe for this mission.
The gruff commander wasn't exactly the most diplomatic, and you suppose that's why he'd grabbed you by the pack and hauled you onto the gunship with him and the rest of the Wolf Pack as you'd been loading up.
It's also no secret you're the Wolf Pack's favorite medic. You had been graced with the sigil on your uniform not long after your reassignment to the 104th. You had been among the many medics shipped off to refill the ranks after the loss of most of the battalion.
You'd been the one to hold Wolffe's head in your lap, staunching the bleeding after his unfortunate incident with the wrong end of a lightsaber.
You'd been adopted into the Pack not long after, named their honorary medic despite your status as a civilian contractor.
You tried not to blush as Wolffe all but lifted you into the gunship with one hand. You'd be lying if you said you weren't harboring a small crush on your commander. It was hard not to crush on any of them, but the gruff commander held a special place in your heart. Maybe it was the way he looked at you as you comforted him after he lost his eye, or maybe it was the way he kept you close whenever you were going to potentially dangerous areas. You know he still feels the loss of his original battalion to this day.
The gunship rattles as it takes off, your hand lifting to hold one of the handles to keep yourself steady. You don't get off the cruiser often, but you're always excited when you do. You've always wanted to travel, to visit places all over the galaxy. Maybe that's what led you to join the GAR.
You certainly don't regret it, even if it is hard sometimes.
You can feel Wolffe's arm brushing your side as you sway with the movements of the gunship. You're sure your cheeks are red by now and you're glad your back is to the rest of the Pack. You'd never hear the end of it.
Wolffe exits the ship first when it lands, offering you a hand to help you down. You take it, even though you could make it easily yourself.
You jump right into helping, working with the other medics to get the tent set up and ready to start treating any wounded villagers. You'd love to be able to watch Wolffe's attempts at diplomacy, but you are here to do a job. Ogling your commander is not part of that.
***
You're kept busy throughout the day. Most of the injuries you see are minor. Many bandages and bacta patches later, you finally take a break. One of the villagers offers you a cup of warm liquid and you accept, not having had much of a break to eat or drink anything. The liquid is sweet and slightly tangy, coating your mouth and throat as you drink it, but it’s not unpleasant.
You finish the liquid before making your way through the village.
You find Wolffe gathered around the fire with the village leaders. It's colder on the planet than you would have expected with the sun out. You slip in between Wolffe and Sinker, taking in the warmth of the fire.
Wolffe glances down at you as you settle in beside him, before he turns his gaze back to the village leaders.
You sit and listen to them talk, your mind starting to wander a bit. You can feel the warmth of the bodies beside you, almost more than the fire in front of you. Something begins to tingle under your skin, making your hair stand on end.
One of the village leaders is staring at you, her face focused. She's been staring at you for a while, no emotion or expression in her gaze. The attention is making you a bit uncomfortable, and you resist the urge to hide behind Wolffe.
You begin to warm, a cramping feeling starting in your stomach. You press a hand to your abdomen right below your belly button. Maybe you're more hungry than you thought.
The ache in your stomach continues, progressively getting worse. You couldn't possibly be sick. There were no unknown diseases on this planet you could have been exposed to. You had drank whatever it was that woman had given you. Maybe that was causing your distress.
"Excuse me." You say quietly as you step away, slipping through buildings until you're on the edge of the village.
You brace a hand against the side of one of the buildings as another cramp spasms in your stomach. The air no longer feels cold as your body warms. Maybe you are sick.
You take a few steps into the trees, not wanting to be sick where someone might see you. You take deep breaths, screwing your eyes closed. The last thing you need is to be sick during a diplomatic mission.
Your ears pick up a sound in the distance, your brows furrowing. Curiosity gets the best of you and you follow the sound, walking through the trees.
You stop on the edge of a small clearing, your eyes widening. The woman that had given you the drink is pressed up against a tree, completely bare. There's a man behind her, snapping his hips into hers. Both of their eyes are closed, faces twisted in pleasure.
Your face burns as you back away, breathing heavily. Kriff, you think. You had read something about this planet's mating seasons. The attack had happened right in the middle of one.
Kriff.
Your core throbs, your brain replaying the image of the man and woman over and over. The faces begin to shift, morphing into you and Wolffe. His hands gripping your hips, growling as he fucks into you.
Oh kriff.
You need to get on a gunship and back to the cruiser immediately. The drug could kill you if you're not careful.
Your name is called, your eyes squeezing shut as you curse. Just who you don't want to see. You turn to him, probably looking as wild as you feel. Wide eyed, sweat dripping, legs trembling. Thank the maker he can't read your mind as he struts closer to you.
You know he's big. You just know it.
"Everything alright?" Wolffe asks, stopping a few feet in front of you.
"I need to get to the med center on the cruiser." You say, voice shaking almost as much as your legs.
He frowns, looking you over. "Are you sick?"
"I'm going to be." You murmur, swaying on your feet.
You audibly whimper when Wolffe puts his hand on your shoulder, steadying you. His hand is so warm, the weight of it enough to send you spiraling into visions of him on top of you, those hands all over your body. You screw your eyes shut, not able to look at him anymore.
"What's going on?" You can practically hear the growl in his voice. Slick floods your panties, soaking them right through.
"It's mating season." You say, not brave enough to open your eyes. "They gave me an aphrodisiac."
"What?" Wolffe asks in disbelief.
"This planet has mating seasons. They use aphrodisiacs to help. I drank one." You explain. "I didn't know what it was when she gave it to me."
His grip on your shoulder tightens, another whimper leaving your throat. You want him to squeeze your hips, your thighs, your ass. You want him to hold you so tightly he leaves bruises. You want him to sink his teeth into your throat and claim you as his-
You don't realize he's been talking.
"I need help." You whimper. "I could die if I don't get something." The last word leaves you in a whine. You want a cock, you want Wolffe's cock inside you.
"What can I do?" He asks.
"I-I'm not in my right mind." You frown, eyes still closed. "I-I can't. I can't take advantage of you like that."
He steps closer. You can feel the warmth of him against your body. He's so close, his breath fanning your heated skin. "What if I want to."
You finally let your eyes open, your gaze meeting his. His brow is furrowed, gaze intense as he stares down at you.
"Kriff, I've been waiting for you to ask me for a long time, mesh'la." He all but growls, the hand on your shoulder sliding down your arm. It leaves goosebumps in its wake, the fabric of his glove rough against your sensitive skin. "Do you know why I keep you so close to me?" He tilts his head, bending down closer to you.
You lift up on your toes, shaking your head. "No, sir."
He does growl this time, the sound vibrating in his throat as he smirks. "It's because I keep hoping for the right moment to kiss you."
"All you had to do was ask." You murmur, closing the distance between you.
Your back hits a tree as your lips meet, his body pressing tight against yours. His hand lifts to your face, tugging on your chin until you open your mouth. He slips his tongue inside, flicking it against yours. You moan into his mouth, the heat under your skin practically begging you to devour him.
His hands slide down your body to your hips as he sinks his teeth into your lower lip. You taste blood, but you don't care as he presses his codpiece against your pelvis. You moan at the friction, grinding yourself against the hard plastoid.
"Kriff, just like that, mesh'la." He groans. "Gonna cum just like that?"
You continue to grind against him, nodding. "Yes. Fuck, Wolffe!"
He smirks, letting you work yourself up desperately against him. "Good girl."
He lets you continue to grind against him, his hand slipping behind you to grab a handful of your ass. You whine, his touch almost painful but you don't care.
"Gonna...gonna cum." You pant, desperately grinding against his codpiece.
"Cum for me." He growls, pushing harder against you.
Your head as you cum with a cry, hips jerking against his codpiece. You can feel the bulge under it, a promise of what's coming next.
The heat under your skin abates for just a moment, your mind clearing enough for you to catch your breath. You taste blood as you lick your lips, staring up at Wolffe.
"I need more." You gasp out, heart thumping wildly in your chest. "It won't be enough."
Wolffe bites the tip of his glove, tugging one off. He tucks it into his belt before his hand cups the spot between your legs. You're hot and damp under your uniform, slick dripping down your thighs. You need more, you need touch.
You press your hips against his hand, desperate for more. He tugs your belt off dropping it in the grass. His hand slips under your waistband, rough fingers gliding through your slick folds.
An absolutely primal noise leaves you as he finally touches you, more slick gushing out to coat his fingers.
He chuckles, fingers ghosting over your clit. "Such a needy little thing."
"Please." You whimper. "Please. Need you so bad."
"What do you need, baby. Tell me."
"Your cock." You whine, grinding against his hand desperately. "I need your cock inside me."
He pulls his hand from your pants, making you sob. "Ask politely. I am your commander, remember?"
You gulp, getting wetter as he stares down at you with that intense gaze. "Please, sir. I need your cock inside me."
He grins, stroking your cheek with his slick fingers. "That's my good girl."
You practically preen under him, legs shaking in anticipation.
"Take it off." He growls, leaning in closer to your face.
You reach forward, pulling off his codpiece. You can feel the heat blooming under your skin again, your brain filling with fantasies of what's about to happen. You drop his codpiece in the grass, your hand rubbing the bulge in his blacks. He's so big, hard and pulsing against the fabric.
You slip your hand in, closing your fingers around his cock. Your mouth waters and you desperately want to drop to your knees and suck the mean streak right out of him. You know you can't waste much time, though. You need to fix this problem and get back before the others start looking for you.
You pull him free of his blacks, marveling at the size of him in your palm. You jerk him a couple times, letting your eyes lift back to his face. His gaze isn't soft or gentle by any means. It's...admiration, you think? Something not usually in his gaze when looking at others.
"Take your pants off." He rasps, pushing your hand from his cock. He takes it in his own hand, jerking it as you work on tugging your pants down.
You get one leg out before he pounces, gripping your thigh tightly to tug that leg around his waist. You lean back against the tree, holding his gaze as he drags his cock through your folds.
You mewl needily, trying to push your hips closer to him. He finally takes pity on you, slipping his cock inside your pussy. You moan at the stretch, your body opening for him. You know it's the aphrodisiac doing most of the work, making your body well prepared for him without needing any extra stimulation or preparation.
The feeling of his cock stretching you open forces the worry of any lingering side effects out of your mind. He pins you against the tree, your arms wrapping around his neck.
He pauses once he's inside you, letting out a groan. He lips brush your neck as he feels you pulse around him, body desperate for any sort of relief. You cling to his shoulders, his armor digging into your skin but you don't care. The pain only adds to the sensation, more wetness seeping out around his cock.
"Making a mess of us and I haven't even started yet." He smirks. "You naughty little thing."
You whimper at his words, trying to grind your hips against him for any sort of relief. "Please, sir." You whine. "Please fuck me."
He nips at your neck, humming quietly. "Since you asked so nicely."
He draws his cock from your walls until just the tip is inside before slamming his hips forward, forcing his cock back inside. You gasp at the sensation, clinging to him as he repeats the motion, jolting your body with every thrust into you.
The bark of the tree drags against your skin but you don't care. You'll worry about the discomfort later. All you care about is Wolffe and his cock inside you.
"Harder." You gasp, threading your fingers in his hair. "Fuck me harder, please."
A groan rumbles in his chest as he draws his hips back before picking up the pace, fucking into you hard. You cling to him as he takes you roughly, hips slamming against yours. You'll have bruises but you don't care.
"So kriffing good." He groans, panting into your neck. "So tight and hot. Such good pussy, baby. All for me. All mine."
"Yours." You gasp, hardly able to form words from the pleasure rushing through your body. "Only yours."
"Gonna cum for me?" He asks, slipping a hand between your bodies to tease your clit. "Gonna cum around my cock?"
You cry out his name as he fucks you through your orgasm, walls spasming around him as pleasure burns through your veins, nearly whiting out your vision.
His hips stutter, a growl rumbling through his chest as he cums, hips slamming into yours as he fills your pussy.
You're gasping for breath, still clinging to him as you come down from your high.
"Fuck, babe." He groans, pulling back just slightly. The front of his armor and his blacks are soaked.
"Oh kriff." You breathe. You can still feel the heat lingering under your skin.
Wolffe pulls himself free of you, tucking himself back unto his blacks. "Made a big mess of us, didn't you?"
You nod, legs shaking as you try to stand on them. He chuckles, helping you back into your pants, putting your belt back on before his codpiece.
"Come on, mesh'la." He says, scooping you into his arms. "Let's get you back to the ship."
"But what about the mission?" You ask, resting your head on his shoulder.
"Fuck diplomacy." He says, carrying you back to the gunships.
Taglist:
@kaminocasey @rosechi @mxkyrie @bobaprint @star-trekker-0013 @padawancat97 @bamfahsoka @rain-on-kamino @thrawnspetgoose @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @wolffegirlsunite @dukeoftheblackstar @starrylothcat @blueink-bluesoul @freesia-writes @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @dystopicjumpsuit @littlemissmanga @madameminor @eris-k @clio3kantarella @moonlightwarriorqueen @sleepingsun501 @originalcollectionartistry @maddiedrmr @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @523rdrebel @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @multi-fan-dom-madness @sinfulsalutations @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sunshinesdaydream @mooncommlink
#star wars#star wars fic#the clone wars#the clone wars fic#commander wolffe x reader#wolffe x reader#x reader#clone thirsting#the dark side fic
697 notes
·
View notes
Text
sorry ; daryl dixon.
track three of BROKEN MACHINE.
pairing ; daryl dixon x doctor!reader (gender neutral pronouns)
synopsis ; you were on your knees, and daryl was too. he wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.
words ; 7.9k
themes ; heavy angst, mild action, doctor au
warnings / includes ; death and violence, negan at his worst, vulgar language, guns/weapons, descriptions of injury/blood, mentions of maggie's pregnancy, negan goes on long ass monologues, poor rick is going Through it, the walking dead s6-7 spoilers (fic starts right at the season six finale), mild sexual dialogue from negan
main masterlist.
Maggie hummed with discontent when you pressed a cold, damp cloth to her forehead. There was a pallid color to her skin, and her temperature was beginning to rise, despite her violent shivers beneath the blanket. The inconsistent, rocking motions of the RV weren’t doing her any favors, either.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you to Hilltop real soon,” you said, feeling mildly guilty that you couldn’t help her more, despite being a doctor yourself. Alexandria was completely out of medical supplies and this was urgent—if Maggie didn’t get help soon… you’d never be able to forgive yourself if something bad were to happen to her or the baby. “Hang on for me, okay?”
The brunette slanted her lips in a tired smile, eyelids heavy.
Rick knelt down beside you, speaking in a low, comforting tone. “We’re gonna get there. Once we get the medicine from Hilltop, Y/N will fix you right up.”
A small sigh fell from her pale, trembling lips. A thin film of tears warbled over her eyes. She was terrified.
“Oh, Maggie,” you murmured, gently pulling away the short strands of hair sticking to her face.
“How do you know?” muttered your friend, gaze trained on the ex-cop.
“Everything we’ve done… we've done it together. We got here together and we’re still here. Things have happened, but it’s always worked out for us, ‘cause it’s always been all of us. That’s how I know. As long as it’s all of us helpin’ you, we can do it.”
A hot tear meandered down Maggie’s cheek. You nodded gratefully at Rick—he’d always had a way with words that you’d never really gotten a grasp of.
The next hour passed by slowly. You switched between cooling her head, and helping her drink some water, sometimes just holding her hand and telling her that everything was going to be fine. To take her mind off the pain, she’d asked you to tell her about how you and Daryl met, all those years ago long before the dead began to walk.
“I’m glad Daryl’s not here right now, because he always tells the story differently than I do. Well, how I remember it, he and his dick brother used to come to a small convenience store near their trailer park. That’s where I worked. I was around… nineteen at the time? Almost twenty. I was just working a couple jobs on the side to pay off my growing student debt. Daryl was twenty-three, almost twenty-four. Merle tried to cozy up to me—and I didn’t have any of that. I told him to fuck right off. And later that night, just as I was to close up, Daryl came by and apologized on his brother’s behalf. He was real sweet, so I—”
“What the bitch?” barked Abraham from the driver’s seat, effectively cutting your story short and rolling the RV to a grueling halt.
“What?” asked Rick, standing up to look out the window. You followed suit, eyes widening upon the sight.
More than half a dozen Saviors blocking the road with three of their cars—and all of them holding large guns. A lump formed in your throat, and you cast your worried gaze to Rick.
“We goin’ through?” asked Abraham, jaw set.
Rick gnashed his jaw together in thought. “No,” he said. “We’ll talk to them. C’mon. Y/N, you stay here, watch over Maggie.”
Teeth worrying into your bottom lip, you nodded, stepping to the side to let the rest of them file out of the RV, their own loaded guns at the ready.
From inside, you couldn’t hear what the Saviors were saying, but from the smug expression of the one in the center with a hideous pornstache, you knew it couldn’t be anything pleasant for your group.
Three minutes later, they came back in, all looking a bit disgruntled. Rick, most of all.
“What’s going on?” you asked Carl, placing a hand on his forearm.
The young man that you were so fond of grimaced, shaking his head and lowering his voice to a whisper so that Maggie couldn’t overhear. “They won’t let us through. Want half our stuff.”
Your breath hitched. At this rate, you didn’t know how long Maggie could last without the proper care and medicine. And Alexandria was running low on supplies as it is—taking away half of everything would put the community in a pretty dire situation.
“Alright, thanks kid,” you told him, trying your absolute best not to cry from frustration, your nose burning with the effort.
The truck began to pull further away from the Saviors, until they were only but little dots against the horizon.
“Logrun Road’s a straight shot,” said Eugene, repeatedly tapping his finger against the map spread out across the RV’s pull-out table.
Next to you, Sasha shook her head. “We want visibility.”
You pursed your lips, craning your neck to scan the small, faded texts of the map. “Can we go down Shelton?”
Eugene hummed in agreement, drawling out in his thick Southern accent, “Golf course, country clubs, sloping terrain—no bum rush from the bogeymen. We’d see ‘em from a good piece. It is a longer trip by a third but we’d get the scenic safety of clear-cut dingles and glens.”
Both you and Sasha stared at him blankly.
“You’re being serious, right?” asked Sasha.
“As coronary thrombosis,” replied the man across from you, stony-faced. Besides, Eugene was never one to joke around.
Sasha rounded her gaze to you expectantly, waiting for you to explain in normal terms. “He’s serious,” you said. “It’s a longer route, but it’ll be well-sheltered and hopefully keep us hidden from the Saviors. I’ll try to keep Maggie steady until then.”
The two nodded at you, and you pushed away from the table, heading further back into the RV where Maggie and Rick were. She was pale and clammy, but still had enough energy to talk to you, so you took that as a good sign.
Not even ten minutes later, while you were taking measurements of her blood pressure and body temperature, the vehicle came to another rumbling halt.
“Bitch nuts,” cursed Abraham, loudly for both you and Rick to hear.
The Saviors were blocking the road. Again.
You could feel panic seize about your chest, constricting your lungs. The situation wasn’t looking good for Maggie, not one bit—but you couldn’t give up hope. Not now, when she needed you the most. You blew out a shaky breath, absentmindedly wishing Daryl was here with you to give you some comfort of mind.
“We making our stand?” asked Sasha, staring out of the window, where more than a dozen saviors were lined up.
Carl, ever the fiery one, spat out, “Yeah. We end this.”
The blue of his father’s eyes flashed dangerously. “No. Not now. It’s too dangerous for Maggie. They’ve been waiting—they’re ready. We ain’t. With one of us behind the wheel, and Y/N with Maggie, that’d be five on sixteen. We’re gonna play it our way. How we want it.”
Reluctant, Carl nodded.
Slowly, the RV started backing away. Three successive, warning gunshots were fired into the air. You could feel a sick, twisted rage curl up within your stomach.
If Maggie died on your watch—her blood would be on the hands of the Saviors.
You fumbled for another map pinned up on the cork board, eyes roaming over the roads, desperate for another available route. Could they possibly have you surrounded? No—the woods were vast, and the roads were winding—there were so many paths left to take to Hilltop. The Saviors simply wouldn’t have the numbers to stop you.
Wouldn’t they?
The RV came to another stop. This time, there were no Saviors blocking the road, but instead, a line of chained-up walkers. Not wanting to risk damaging the RV by driving through them, the rest of the group filed out to check if the coast was clear. You told Maggie you’d be right back, before hopping out of the RV, lingering by the doorway to narrow your gaze at the restrained walkers.
“That’s Michonne’s,” breathed out Carl, his single eye widening. A lock of her hair was stapled against the center walker’s forehead.
Horror, as black as tar itself, seeped into your chest when you glanced over to the next snarling form, just to see two of Daryl’s arrows embedded into its decaying stomach. Daryl always retrieved his arrows. Which meant… something had happened to him.
“That’s Daryl’s,” you said, loud enough for Rick to hear. “Oh, no, Rick… they did this on purpose. They knew we were coming this way—!”
Just as Rick was about to cleave his axe into the walker’s skull, ricocheting gunfire crackled into the ground, making the dried leaves flutter up with the sudden force, plumes of dust and smoke flying with each bullet.
“Get back to the RV! Go!” yelled Rick. You scrambled up the steps and ran to a concerned Maggie, trembling as you carefully hovered over her, in case any bullets pierced through the walls and accidentally hit her. Carl and Sasha began shooting blindly into the woods, having not a clue where all the shots were coming from. Rick surged forward and thrust his axe down onto one of the walker’s rotting arms, effectively leaving a gap open for the RV to drive through.
The rest of the group rushed inside, and Abraham practically threw himself into the driver’s seat to get the RV moving.
The shots died away after a few minutes. With shallow, inconsistent breaths, you slid off of Maggie, slumping down beside her. She croaked out a question, but it fell upon deaf ears, ringing with static and white noise. A warm tear fell from your burning eyes, and you quickly brushed it away with the back of your palm.
Something happened to Daryl. And it was killing you that you couldn’t help him. That you didn’t even know where he was.
You looked out the window through a watery film of tears, watching the yellow-green fields pass by in a blur. A quick glance at the lowering sun told you that the group was going to lose daylight soon enough, as well.
A strange, creaking noise was coming from below the RV.
“What’s that sound?” said Sasha, worried.
“Undercarriage could’ve caught a bullet,” replied Eugene. “Could be transmission. Could be nothing.”
Agitated, Rick growled out, “They were firing at our feet. They blocked the road, but they weren’t trying to stop us.”
“They want us in this direction,” you murmured, making his wild gaze swivel to you. You gestured to the map. “Rick, they know we’re coming. They know we wanna go North.”
“Meadows would take us East a piece,” said Eugene, “but we can get back on track on Mayhew.”
It would take too long, you thought. Maggie doesn’t have the strength to carry on anymore.
Shaking her head, Sasha said, “We’re down to a third of a tank—we could top off at the next stop, but it’s risky. We can’t have any refills after that.”
A low moan fell from Maggie’s pale lips as a wave of pain washed over her, moving in and out of a hazy unconsciousness. You were quick to check her temperature, blanching at the fact that she was nearly scalding to the touch. You quickly placed the damp cloth to her skin again, trying your best to keep her temperature down.
“Rick, she’s burning up,” you told him, voice thick with worry.
It was then that the RV came to another stop.
This time, there were more saviors—around three dozen, maybe even four.
“Go back,” said Rick, eyes wide and stress evidently painted across his strained features.
Abraham squared his jaw. “We have nowhere to go back to.”
With a shaky breath, you stroked Maggie’s head, your heart shattering into millions of pieces. “I’m sorry, Maggie,” you said, a sob bubbling in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry—I wish I could do something, I’m sorry.”
Disoriented and not having heard a word of your apologetic babbling, Maggie croaked out, “Are we there yet?”
More tears slipped down your cheeks. Rick was by your side, placing one hand on your shoulder and the other on Maggie’s arm. You stifled your sobs with your palm, and Rick replied in your stead.
“Yeah, Maggie. We’re—we’re getting there.”
The woman’s eyelids fluttered lethargically. “Were there… I heard shots.”
Rick’s expression softened. “Yeah, the Saviors—they’re gone now. We’re gonna get you there.”
A ghost of a smile tilted the corner of Maggie’s lips up. “I know.”
“You’ll be okay,” you told her, sniffling. “The baby’s going to be okay. This isn’t the end.”
“There’s more,” agreed Rick. “There’s gonna be more, I promise.”
A beat of silence.
“I believe in you, Rick,” she hoarsely said. Maggie’s gaze slowly moved from Rick to you. “In both of you.”
Maggie was asleep again. You made sure to give her plenty of water and what was left of the antibiotics you had saved—but that was the very last bit of supply you had. There was little else you could do for her other than getting her to Hilltop for the proper medicine and treatment she needed.
“So what’s the play?” asked Abraham. “They’ve cut us off every turn we made.”
“She needs medicine,” said Rick, desperation lacing each word. “She’ll die without it.”
“We only have two plausible routes North from here. They’ve cornered us,” Sasha whispered, gaze trained on the map.
Hopelessness laid uneasy on all of your shoulders.
“They’re probably waiting for us right now,” said Aaron.
Eugene gritted his teeth. “So, they’re ahead of us. Heck, probably even behind us. But they’re not waiting on us, per se—they’re waitin’ on this rust bucket. They don’t know the moment-to-moment occupancy of said rust bucket. And the sun sets soon.”
“We need to leave now if we want Maggie to make it to Hilltop,” you said, voice trembling with a myriad of guilt, anger, and frustration. “We carry Maggie, and we go on foot. Through the woods. They can’t block us there.”
Eugene took the RV in hopes of tricking the Saviors. Everybody else in the group set off into the woods, taking turns carrying Maggie on the makeshift stretcher, bundled under two layers of blankets. The sun had long set, and the whispering winds were cold this time of year.
“Just let me walk it,” she rasped, voice scratchy and throat dry.
“No,” you were quick to reply. “You’re in no condition to walk right now, Maggie. It’s only a few more miles. Just rest up a bit more, okay?”
Though she didn’t look happy, Maggie didn’t protest any further, letting her tired eyes slip shut once more.
After a couple more minutes, Aaron stepped in to carry one end of the stretcher for you, telling you that you also needed to rest your arms for a second. With a grateful nod, you reluctantly let go, falling into stride with Carl.
“Are you okay?” the young man asked, his hand brushing yours, his nonverbal way of saying that he was here for you if you needed him. “I’m sure Daryl and Michonne are fine. They’re fighters. Maggie’s going to be fine, too.”
You sent him a fond, but tired smile. “Yeah, I hope so, kiddo,” you told him, cuffing his shoulder affectionately. The thought of Daryl out there, probably worried sick for you as well, made your stomach twist into knots. “I really hope so.”
It was at that moment, a shrill whistle sounded out from the darkness of the forest. The group halted in their tracks. One by one, more whistles were added to the ear-splitting melody. It sounded like there were dozens, if not a hundred voices surrounding you.
“Go!” yelled Rick. “Go!”
The rest of you broke out in a sprint, and you grabbed Carl’s hand, winding around tree trunks and hopping over overgrown roots, ignoring the stinging scrapes of twisting branches against your face.
The whistling only continued, growing louder, louder, louder—
Until you came face to face with the source itself.
Car lights suddenly flashed open, momentarily blinding you. You drew Carl closer to you, instinctively protecting him, but it was no use. They had your group surrounded. Saviors, hundreds of them, gathered around you with leering expressions. All of them were clutching guns.
Raw fear curled around your lungs when you saw Eugene on his knees not too far from you, tears dripping down his face.
Rick looked destroyed. Devastated.
You were shaking so hard that your knees began to buckle beneath you.
Finally, the whistling began to dwindle away.
From the crowd, stepped out a familiar face—the man with a hideous pornstache that stopped the RV on the initial route.
“Good,” he called out. He swept his arms out in a faux inviting gesture. “You made it. Welcome to where you’re going—because you ain’t goin’ anywhere ‘til we’re done with you. We’ll take your weapons.”
When he pointed a gun straight at Maggie, you immediately did as he said, pulling out the pistol wedged in your belt. There was a knife inside your boot, but you weren’t too keen on giving that up yet. You tossed your pistol on the ground just as Abraham threw down his rifle. The rest of the group followed suit.
Trembling, Rick spat out, “We can talk about this—”
“We’re done talking,” interrupted Pornstache. “Okay. Get her down, and let’s get you all on your knees. Lots to cover.”
“She can’t,” you snarled, stepping in front of Maggie protectively. “She’s sick, she can’t—”
“Oh, she’ll be far worse than just sick if you don’t get her on her knees,” the man easily rebutted, eyes roaming over your protective form.
Lips trembling, you turned around, and with Abraham on her other side, you helped Maggie limp off the stretcher and gently set her down on her knees. Your eyes glistened and warbled with unshed tears. Maggie could only shake her head, as if telling you that it wasn’t your fault.
Terrified, Rick glanced around at the rest of the group. He’d failed you. All of you.
“Gonna need you on your knees, sweetheart,” said Pornstache, slowly dragging the end of his gun up your cheek with a salacious grin.
With a withering glare, you sank down beside Maggie, Rick on your left side, breathing haggard and lips quaking. Sasha and Abraham followed suit. Carl was the last, fists clenched by his sides.
“Dwight!” whistled Pornstache. “Chop chop! Bring out the others!”
A blonde man with half of his face horribly marred by what looked to be a severe burn injury, stepped forward, yanking open the back of a truck.
And, to your horror, he dragged out your boyfriend, covered in blood—blood that you could only pray wasn’t his, even though you knew deep down that that was only wishful thinking. Following Daryl was Michonne, Rosita, and Glenn, equally distraught.
Daryl caught your eye for a brief second, pure terror within his irises. He looked over you to make sure that you were alright, and you did the same with him, a tear slipping down your cheek.
I love you, you mouthed to him. He dipped his head once in understanding, before forcing his gaze away, not wanting to give the Saviors anymore reason to torture either of you.
“Maggie…?” Glenn painfully rasped once he caught sight of his wife in such a state. He tried to make his way to her, but the Saviors grabbed his arms and forced him down, guns digging harshly into his back.
“Alright!” exclaimed Pornstache. “We got a full boat! Let’s meet the man, eh?”
He knocked twice on the door to the RV you were in not even an hour ago.
The door slowly swung open, squeaking on its hinges.
And out strode a tall man clad in a leather jacket, a bat covered in barbed wire hanging off his shoulder. He took his sweet time making his way towards the group, feet languidly dragging along the gravelly dirt, and a smirk accentuating his smug expression.
“Pissing our pants yet?” he drawled, voice tapering into a light chuckle as he stepped out into the light, smiling down at your group on your knees. “Boy, do I have a feeling we’re gettin’ close. Mm, yeah—it’s gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Now which one of you pricks is the leader?”
Pornstache pointed at Rick. “It’s this one here.”
The man with the bat grinned wider, before stepping right in front of Rick, who craned his neck to glare up at him. “Hi there. You’re Rick, right? I’m Negan. And I do not appreciate you killin’ my men. Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people… you killed more of my people. Not cool, man. Not cool. You have… no fuckin’ idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you’re gonna be up to speed shortly. Mmh, yeah. You are so gonna regret crossin’ me in a few minutes. Yes, you are.” A dangerous, wolfish grin flashed across Negan’s face. “You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what—you don’t mess with the new world order. And the new world order is really very simple. So, even if you’re stupid, which you may very well be, you can understand it. You ready? Here goes—pay attention.”
He lowered his bat off his shoulder and slotted the barbed end right below Rick’s chin. You held in your breath, your entire body wracking with tremors. Though you knew you needed to stop, you couldn’t help but chance glances at Daryl every so often, your concern for him rapidly growing. Some of that was his blood, it had to be—his eyes were sunken with exhaust and his chest, the very chest you would fall asleep on every night, was rising and falling unevenly, making you believe he was hurt, but you just couldn’t see what was hurting him.
“Give me your shit… or I will kill you. See? Simple as that.” Negan pulled the bat away from Rick, and began walking around the group as he spoke. “Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That’s your job. Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow. But swallow it, you most certainly will! You ruled the roost. You built something, Rick. You thought you were safe, I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged—more pegged if you don’t do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. If that’s too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it’ll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be. So, if someone knocks on your door… you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us? And we will knock it down. You understand?”
Rick swallowed heavily. Narrowing his keen eyes, Negan cupped his ear and leaned down closer to the kneeling man.
“What? No answer? You don’t really think that you were going to get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don’t want to kill you people. I just wanna make that clear from the get go. I want you to work for me—and you can’t do that if you’re dead, now, can you? I’m not growin’ a garden. But you killed my people—a whole damn lot of ‘em! More than I’m comfortable with, honestly. And for that… for that you’re gonna pay.”
Your hands curled into fists on your knees. You knew what was coming. And you’d be damned if you were going to let it happen.
“So, now… I’m gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you.” Negan inhaled sharply, as if he enjoyed prolonging the torture. He bent down once more, showing off the barbed bat. “This right here—this is Lucille. And she is awesome. All this… all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor!”
Negan stopped in front of Abraham, who straightened and glared defiantly at the smirking man. In thought, Negan subconsciously rubbed his bearded jaw with one hand at the sight of Abraham’s own mustache. “Huh. I gotta shave this shit.”
On he strolled, before halting in front of Carl. “You had one of our guns. Hm. You got a lot of our guns.” Carl only scowled at the man. “Shit, kid. Lighten up. At least cry a little.”
Chuckling, Negan moved on.
You could feel one of your eyes twitch when you saw his shoes stop right in front of you. His bat was beneath your chin in an instant, forcing you to look up. The sharp metal on the bat painfully scratched against your jaw, and fresh tears pricked the corners of your eyes.
“My, my, you’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? What’s your name, darlin’?”
Hatred simmered within your chest, but you forced your expression to remain indifferent.
You quietly told him your name, wincing when his bat dug deeper into your neck and he ordered you to say it louder. You repeated yourself, voice cracking. A single tear meandered down your cheek and slid down your chin, dripping onto Lucille.
Negan hummed, nodding in satisfaction. “Now that’s what I want to see, folks! A little emotion around here—Y/N’s got the gist of it!”
“Kill me,” you gritted out, making the rest of the group’s eyes widen. You could feel Rick’s stare burning holes straight through you, but you refused to meet his gaze, staring straight up at Negan. “You can kill me. Just don’t hurt them. Let them go. Maggie, on my right, she’s real sick and she needs medicine—if she doesn’t get the proper treatment soon, she’ll… she’ll…”
The man in front of you barked out an amused laugh. “She’ll what?”
“She’ll die,” you snarled. “So kill me. Get it over with—and let them go.”
And for a split second, you let your eyes return to Daryl, one last time. He wouldn’t look at you—he couldn’t—terrified that Negan would bring that bat down on your head if he noticed.
But it was all futile. He noticed anyway.
He followed your gaze over to Daryl, lowering his bat to gesture between the two of you.
“Ah… you two are a thing, ain’t ya? Damn. And here I thought you were available for takin’, sugar.” Negan tossed his head back and chuckled with mild disappointment. “God, look at you bein’ all heroic, offering yourself up for the chopping block! No, no, darlin’, this ain’t a game of who gets to be a martyr and save their friends. You don’t decide what’s happening here. I do. You think I don’t know you’re the doctor of the group? My people have been reporting to me—they know you’ve been the one taking care of Little Miss Sickly over there. No… you’re far too valuable for me to kill. We need more people like you, darlin’. Plus, I wouldn’t want to bash in your pretty little face, now, would I?”
With a hum, Negan stepped away from you, fixing his gaze upon Maggie.
“Jesus. You look shitty. I should just put you out of your misery right now—!”
“NO!” screamed Glenn, scrambling onto his feet and lunging at Negan. Before he could even begin to make contact, Dwight grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, threateningly shoving Daryl’s crossbow into his face.
Maggie cried out—both from a fresh wave of pain seeping through her bones, and from the sight of her husband being dragged back to his spot like a ragdoll.
Huffing out a sigh, Negan grunted out, “Nope. Nope, nope, get him back in line.”
Glenn screamed, choking back a sob. “No… don’t. Don’t!”
Negan could only smile. “Alright, alright, listen. Don’t any of you do that again—I will shut that shit down, no exceptions! First one’s free—it’s an emotional moment. I get it. Mmh. Sucks, don’t it? The moment you realize you don’t know shit.”
Rick trembled violently beside you. Tilting his head, Negan glanced between him and Carl, realization dawning upon him when he noticed the physical similarities between the two.
“This is your kid, right? Ohoho, that is definitely your kid!”
“JUST STOP THIS!” yelled Rick, so sudden that it made you flinch.
Equivalent in volume, Negan bellowed back, “HEY! Do not make me kill your little future serial killer! Don’t make it easy on me! I gotta pick somebody—everybody’s at the table waitin’ for me to order, hm?”
The man whistled out a shrill tune, one that sent a shiver dance down your spine.
“I simply cannot decide. But I got an idea.” With that, he pointed the bat at Rick. “Eenie.”
He moved to you, before narrowing his eyes, and skipped over to Maggie. “Meenie.”
Abraham. “Minie.”
Michonne. “Mo.”
Glenn. “Catch.”
Daryl. “A tiger.”
Rosita. “By.”
Eugene. “His toe.”
Sasha. “If.”
Aaron. “He hollers.”
Carl. “Let him go.”
And so on he went.
My mother told me to pick the very best one. And you… are… it.
Your heart dropped when the end of his bat stopped in front of Abraham.
No. No… no… no…
“Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy’s other eye out and feed it to his father, and then we’ll start! You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry. Hell, you’re all gonna be doin’ that!”
And with that, he swung the bat back and brought it clean down on Abraham’s head.
Screams erupted from around you. You could feel your vision blur over with your tears, and you closed your eyes shut, not wanting to see such a gruesome sight, curling in on yourself as you listened to the repeated, sickening squelch of Negan’s bat repeatedly hitting your dear friend. Negan gloated and laughed and jeered. You cried and sobbed and flinched with every strike.
His blood—Abraham’s blood—splattered on your face. You could feel it.
Warm, moist, and thick. Dripping down your cheek.
“You guys… look at my dirty girl!” proclaimed Negan, jutting out the bloody bat for all to witness. The monster of a man tilted his head at Rosita, whose eyes were horrified and bloodshot, dripping with fat tears. “Sweetheart… lay your eyes on this!”
When Rosita began to cry harder, Negan hummed. “Oh, damn. Were you… were you guys together? That sucks. If you were, you should know—there was a reason for all this. Red—and damn if that isn’t a good name for him—he just took one, or six, or seven for the team! So take… a damn… look.”
Rosita refused to move her gaze from Abraham’s mutilated corpse.
And, much to your horror, Daryl growled out as he surged forward on his feet, landing a clean punch against Negan’s jaw. You screamed out his name when three Saviors grabbed him and beat him back onto the ground, pinning him tightly against the gravel. A sob wracked through your frame and you could feel your stomach twist into itself. Daryl was still struggling against them, clutching his side as he panted out.
“No!” yelled Negan, clearly furious. “Oh, no. That—is a big no-no. The whole thing—not one fucking bit of that shit flies here!”
Terror clutched at your palpitating heart when Negan shoved Lucille right up into Daryl’s face, smearing Abraham’s blood all over him.
Dwight strode up and pointed Daryl’s own crossbow against the back of your boyfriend’s head. A sob fell from your lips. You couldn’t watch this—you just couldn’t.
“Daryl,” you cried out, hiccupping through your words. “Negan… no. No, please, don’t! I’ll do anything, please! Not him. Please, not him!”
Amused at your pleading, Negan casted a sidelong glance to you, before grabbing at Daryl’s hair and pulling him upright. “See what you did there, Buckaroo? You got your little partner all upset! Look, they’re crying their eyes out, worried for you.” Negan got back up on his feet. “Get him back in line,” he barked, though his eyes were trained on you.
And in two quick strides, he was back in front of you, gripping your face tightly between his gloved hand. “Look at you, darlin’, all covered in blood. Would it be weird if I say it makes my dick hard as fuck?” You scowled, trying your best to pull your face away from his uncomfortably rough grip. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart—your boyfriend here didn’t listen to me earlier. I said the first one was free, didn’t I? And what does that mean? Second one’s got a price, hm? I said I’d shut that shit down—no exceptions. I don’t know what kind of lyin’ assholes y’all have been dealing with… but I’m a man of my word. First impressions are important! I need you all to know me. Know that I’m not joking around with this shit. Now, if you weren’t a doctor and you weren’t so fuckin’ hot—I would’ve bashed your head to pieces without battin’ an eye! But, lookie here, I’m faced with another dilemma. I need to kill another one of you to get my point across.”
A wail bubbled up in your throat and you began to claw at Negan’s fingers now painfully squeezing your jaw. “No… please, please… don’t, please—!”
“And I want you, darlin’, to pick which one of your little friends I kill.”
“No!” you spat, breathing shallow and panicked. “Me—just kill me, Negan—you don’t have to hurt anyone else, please, please, let them go, you—”
Getting irritated with you, Negan shook your face until you stopped blubbering. “You’re not listenin’ to me. Pick. Someone. Not you, and not your little boyfriend. I want him to live with the fact that one of his friends died because of him. Pick someone. Anyone, sweetheart. You’ll be doin’ em a favor, honestly. They get to save the rest of you from a miserable death! Now, doesn’t that sound appealing?”
A beat of silence. Negan stared you down, and you glared right back.
“Eat my shit,” you snarled out.
Narrowing his eyes, Negan finally relinquished his hold on you. You gasped for breath, chest heaving, stabilizing yourself with your hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you’re feisty! Might have to keep you around after this—holy fuckin’ shit. Mmh, alright… fine, then. Since you won’t pick—I’ll just have to kill your precious patient’s boyfriend, hm?”
Before any of you could react, Negan spun on his heel and arced his bat through the air, right onto Glenn’s head. Again, and again, and again.
A piercing scream echoed across the forest. Maggie’s scream.
Your mouth dropped open as a silent cry scratched down the sides of your throat.
Glenn was still alive, somehow, after all those bashes. Blood caked his entire skull and part of his head was caved in—to your nauseating horror, one of his eyes had come out of its socket.
“Buddy, you still there?” exclaimed Negan in astonishment, bending down to inspect his handiwork. “I just don’t know… seems to me like you’re tryin’ to say something! But you just took a hell of a hit! I just cracked your skull so hard, your eyeball popped right out! And it is gross as shit!”
After all that, Glenn managed to slur out, “Maggie… I’ll find you.”
Sobs rang throughout the clearing. The rest of the group cried tears for Glenn—without him, all of you would’ve been dead three times over.
“Awh, hell. I can see this is hard on you guys,” said Negan. “I’m sorry. I truly am. But I did say… no exceptions!”
With that, he brought down his bat again. Over, and over, and over.
Maggie cried so hard her voice started to give out.
Daryl, your beloved Daryl, flinched with every stroke of the bat, his eyes red and puffy with tears. You could see it already—the guilt behind his gaze. He thought it was his fault Glenn was killed.
You shut your eyes again.
“Lucille is thirsty! She’s a vampire bat!” proudly declared Negan, as he swung one final hit on Glenn’s long-dead body. “What? Was the joke that bad? Tough crowd, huh?”
“I’m gonna kill you,” whispered Rick once Negan was done. Rick had blood splattered all over his face, as well. Abraham’s blood. Glenn’s blood.
Negan squatted down beside him, tilting his head. His bat was dangerously close to you. “What? I didn’t quite catch that, Rick. You’re gonna have to speak up.”
Squaring his jaw, Rick drew in a sharp inhale. “Not today… not tomorrow… but I’m gonna kill you.”
Negan sucked at his teeth. “Jesus,” he softly said. “Simon. What did he have? A knife?”
Pornstache raised his brows. “He had a hatchet. An axe.”
Snorting, Negan shook his head. “Simon’s my right-hand man. Having one of those is important. I mean, what do you have left without ‘em? A whole lot of work. You have one? Maybe one of these fine people still breathing? Oh… or did I…”
The man waved the bloodied bat in front of Rick’s face, taunting him.
“Sure, yeah. Give me his axe.” Pornstache handed Negan the small weapon and Negan smugly slid it into his belt. Suddenly, Negan grabbed the back of Rick’s jacket and yanked him up, practically dragging him by the scruff towards the RV. Your breath hitched, wanting to stop him, but all the guns trained on the backs of your friends made you freeze. All you could do was lower your head and stave away your raucous sobs.
“I’ll be right back, folks! Maybe Rick will be with me! And if not… well, we can just turn these people inside out, won’t we? I mean… the ones that are left!”
They were gone for hours.
During those hours, part of you wanted to go to Maggie, comfort her, check if both she and the baby were alright. No doubt she was in a tremendous amount of both emotional and physical pain. The other part of you wanted to go to Daryl, curl up in the safety of his arms and cry into his chest.
But you couldn’t do either. Not with the Saviors pointing the barrels of their rifles to the back of your skulls.
The sun was already beginning to rise, tinting the sky a sweet, soft shade of blue. A stark juxtaposition to the dark red blood steadily drying on the rocky ground.
When Rick got back, Negan ruthlessly threw him down in front of the group. He looked exhausted. More than that—he looked dead inside. The light behind his eyes was gone.
“Do you know what that little trip was about?” asked Negan.
Rick looked around wildly, as if making sure that everyone else was alright.
“Speak when you’re spoken to,” Negan hissed.
Begrudgingly, Rick bowed his head. “Okay… okay.”
Negan wolfishly grinned, though there was a dark glimmer to his irises that you misliked. “That trip was about the way that you looked at me. I wanted to change that. I wanted you to understand. But you’re still lookin’ at me the same damn way. Like I shit in your scrambled eggs, and that’s not gonna work!” Once again, Negan squatted down beside Rick, that smug expression still plastered across the man’s coarse features. “So… do I give you another chance?”
After a moment’s pause, Rick hacked out, “Yeah. Yes.”
Satisfied, Negan clapped Rick on the back, before getting back up onto his feet. “Alright! Here it is, the grand-prize game. What you do next will decide whether your crap day becomes everyone’s last crap day… or just another crap day. Get some more guns to the back of their heads. Level with their noses, so if you have to fire… it’ll be a real fuckin’ mess.”
You could feel cold metal graze the very top of your temple.
“Kid, come here,” said Negan, making your heart plummet to your stomach. Rick’s expression shifted to one of pure dread.
Carl didn’t move.
“Kid… now.”
With cautious movements, Carl stood up in front of the taller man.
“You a southpaw?” asked Negan while he unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of its loops.
“Am I a what?”
“A lefty,” clarified Negan.
Carl scowled. “No.”
“Good,” retorted Negan, before grabbing Carl’s left arm and tying the belt around his bicep. “That hurt?”
Gritting his teeth, Carl bit out a negative.
“It should. It’s supposed to.” Negan smirked, knocking Carl’s cowboy hat off his head. “Alright, get down on the ground next to daddy, kid. Spread them wings!”
Slowly, Carl lowered himself down beside Rick, his cheek pressed flat against the dusty gravel.
“Simon, you got a pen?”
Pornstache nodded, brandishing a marker from his pocket and tossing it over to Negan. The man uncapped the black pen with his teeth, flashing you a wink and spitting out the cap somewhere to the side. He kneeled down by Carl to draw a straight line just below the junction of his elbow.
“Sorry, kid,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “This is gonna be as cold as a warlock’s dick, as if he were hanging his ballsack above you and dragging it right across your forearm! Gives you a little leverage, don’t it?”
Stammering, Rick muttered out, “Please… please don’t. Please don’t.”
Negan tilted his head, lightly chuckling. “Me? Oh, I ain’t doin’ shit. Rick… I want you to take your axe and cut your son’s left arm off—right on that line! Now, I know you gotta process that for a second. That makes sense. Still, though—I’m gonna need you to do it, or all these people are gonna die. Then your kid dies. Then the people back home die. Then you… eventually. I’d keep you breathing for a few years just so you could stew on it!”
“You… you don’t have to do this,” pleaded Michonne. It was the first time she’d spoken since she got out of the truck. Seeing Carl splayed out in front of her, practically her son, made something inside her snap. “We understand. We get it, we—”
“You might understand! I’m not so sure Rick here does. I’m gonna need a clean cut right there on that line. Now, I know this is a screwed-up thing to ask, but it’s gonna have to be like a salami slice. You remember those, right? Nothin’ messy. I want a clean, forty-five degree cut. Give us somethin’ to fold over. You got Y/N right there to fix him up nice and good. The kid’ll be just fine. Probably.”
Rick was just about losing his mind, rocking back and forth, murmuring incoherently beneath his breath. Sweat dripped down his bloodied face, his hair, mixing with the salty tears leaking from his crazed eyes.
“Rick. This needs to happen now. Chop, chop. Before I crush the little fella’s skull myself.”
Swallowing down his sobs, Rick choked, “It can—it can… it can be me. It can be me. Wh… you… you could do it to me. I c-can go with—with you.”
Negan smiled at his desperation. “No. This is the only way. Pick up the axe, Rick. Not making a decision is a big decision, let me tell you that. You really wanna see all these people die? Because you will—if you don’t PICK UP THE FUCKING AXE!”
Rick began sobbing uncontrollably.
“Oh, my God,” said Negan, pulling at his face wearily. “You gonna make me count? Okay, Rick—you win. I’ll start counting. Three!”
“PLEASE!” screamed Rick. “IT CAN BE ME. PLEASE!”
“Two!” Negan kneeled down and slapped a sobbing Rick across the face, before grabbing his cheeks, not unlike he did with you hours before. “This is it, Rick. Make a decision. One!”
With a gut wrenching scream, Rick’s trembling fingers curled around the handle of his axe.
“Dad…” whispered Carl. A tear slipped down your cheek as the events unfolded in front of you. “Just do it.”
Rick cocked his arm back, seconds away from bringing it down to cleave Carl’s hand off.
But Negan grabbed Rick’s wrist at the very last second, stopping him.
The man smirked, pleased with himself. “You answer to me. You provide for me. You belong to me. Right?”
Frantically, Rick nodded his head.
“SPEAK WHEN YOU’RE SPOKEN TO! You answer to me. You provide for me!”
“I’ll provide for you!” cried Rick.
“You belong to me! Right?” hollered Negan.
Hiccuping a sob, Rick bobbed his head. “Right.”
“Now that… that is the look I wanted to see.” Negan grabbed Rick’s axe from him and stepped away. “We did it. All of us, together. Even the dead guys on the ground! Hell, they get the spirit award, for sure! Today was a productive damn day! Now, I hope for all your sake… that you get it now. That you understand how things work. Things have changed. Whatever you had going for you before… that is over now.”
Negan clapped his hands together, sighing out in relief.
And strangely, you were slightly relieved, as well. Maybe he was done. He wasn’t going to kill any more of you. This was all over for now.
Right?
“Dwight,” said Negan. “Load him up.”
To your shock, Negan pointed Lucille straight at Daryl.
“See, he’s got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know,” Negan told Rick. “I like him. He’s mine now. You still wanna try something? Not today, not tomorrow? I will cut pieces off of… what’s his name?”
“Daryl,” said Pornstache.
“Wow. That actually sounds just about right. I will cut pieces off of Daryl and put them on your doorstep! Or, better yet, I will bring him to you and have you do it for me.”
“No…” you croaked out, when Dwight grabbed your boyfriend and dragged him back to the truck as if he were a wild animal, crossbow pointed at his chest. Maggie sobbed from beside you. “No, Daryl… please, no, don’t—please don’t take him from me!” you cried. “Please, I need him… Daryl!”
Negan smiled down at you. “Mmh. Alrighty, then. I’ll take you, too. Come on.”
A gasp lodged in your throat when he suddenly grabbed your arm and yanked you upwards.
“No, wait, I’m the only doctor they have, they need—Maggie needs m—!”
“I don’t give a rat’s flying blue ass,” growled Negan, shoving you in the direction of the truck, where Daryl watched you with wide, scared eyes. You craned your neck around to look at Rick and Maggie and the rest of the group—your family—one last time, unsure of when, if ever, you’d see them again. “You’re mine now. Got a whole lot of shit you can do for me, that’s for sure, darlin’. Load ‘em up!”
One of the Saviors pushed you into the truck just as Negan yelled out, “Welcome to a brand new beginning, you sorry shits! I’ll leave you a truck. Keep it—use it to cart all the crap you’re gonna find me. We’ll be back for our first offering in one week. Until then… ta-fuckin’-ta.”
You collapsed straight into Daryl once you were inside, thundering sobs spilling from your lungs. He wrapped his burly arms around you, smelling of dirt and blood and motor oil. No words needed to be said. No words could be said.
The both of you had lost so much today.
And now… you’d lost your freedom, as well.
Daryl began crying into your shoulder, and you could only hold him all the tighter.
#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#the walking dead fanfiction#twd fanfiction#daryl dixon angst#daryl dixon oneshot#twd angst#daryl dixon imagines#daryl dixon drabbles#negan smith x reader#negan x reader#rick grimes x reader#daryl dixon fluff#daryl dixon ff#daryl dixon fanfic
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
If you’re interested in writing it, I would love to read a part two of “the one with Chan and the promotion”! It’s so sweet and cute and I go back to it when I feel sad or sick and just want someone to take care of me lol.
aw, i’m so glad you liked it! here’s part two ✨
the one with chan and the promotion pt. ii
you needed a ride home after getting your wisdom teeth removed. chan just so happened to be free.
pairing: bang chan x gn!reader
genre: fluff, hurt/comfort
au: fuck buddies to ?
type: drabble
rating: 18+ — minors do not have my consent to interact with me or my work.
wc: 1.3k
cw: reader’s pov this time!; no smut but it’s referenced due to the nature of their relationship; reader had outpatient dental surgery (not depicted); reference to blood/swelling.
a/n: this is a continuation of this drabble, which @moni-logues requested last year. in order for things to make sense, please read pt. i first! as of 4/21/24, part iii has been requested and will be coming eventually.
navigation. skz permanent taglist. multi permanent taglist. request rules.
Upon waking up, the first thing you do is take inventory.
The list of things you don’t have is the longer of the two: four of the teeth you initially left home with, a blanket on top of you, your bearings, or any substantial memory of the how and when you got back to your apartment.
What you do have is a pair of slippers on your feet where your shoes used to be and a hand in yours, warming your palm. Bleary-eyed, you stare down at the five fingers interlocked with yours while your brain scrambles to load. It doesn’t. You swear you hear the Windows XP error noise sounding off in the back of it when your eyes flick up and find Chan’s closed, fluttering ever so slightly as he sleeps.
You don’t mean to voice your surprise out loud, especially not above a whisper, but it slips past lips still buzzing as sensation returns. “Christ!”
Chan doesn’t startle, which doesn’t necessarily surprise you. His roommate, who you’ve heard tell of but never met, is apparently prone to sudden shouting, apropos of nothing. He does stir, though, just slightly.
“No,” he mumbles without opening his eyes. Though he doesn’t witness the quizzical look you give him, he must suspect your confusion, nonetheless. Stifling a satisfied, albeit sleepy chuckle, he jokes, “My English name is pronounced Chris.”
It’s then that his eyes crack open, taking you in immediately and softly, pupils dilating. He’s never looked at you like that before. You don’t know what to do with it.
Flustered, you divert your gaze to your hands the way you always do, only to find that one of his is still holding one of yours. You don’t know what to do with that, either. To cover the fact that you don’t know what to say, you clear your throat, hoping the words will materialize after a bit of stalling. They don’t.
Chan, noticing your preoccupation, interjects and sits upright next to you on top of your still-tucked-in comforter. “Oh.”
He retracts his hand. A sheepish smile spreads in tandem with a flush of red across his cheeks and neck, so heated with embarrassment you can almost feel it from several centimeters away.
“Had a hell of a time getting you through the door and getting your shoes untied,” he starts, laughing awkwardly.
Oh, indeed.
You’d asked Chan to drive you; called him specifically for that singular task because your other, closer friends — the ones who haven’t seen you naked — don’t. On top of their collective lack of licensure, you know them all too well to trust any one of them with wrangling a highly medicated person on public transit. You’d be a liability in and of yourself; your chaperone couldn’t be a disaster, too.
Going into this, you’d believed that Chan had his shit together well enough to get you from Point A to Point B in one piece. You were right. He did, and even though he could have, he didn’t stop there. Not only did Chan get you inside, but he also swapped your shoes for slippers to avoid dragging dirt into your apartment.
He rubs the back of his neck, continuing, “You — uh — well, you wouldn’t let go after I corralled you in here.” The hand fussing with the hair at his nape gestures vaguely around your bedroom, which he’s seeing in sunlight for the first time ever, not unlike the way he’s witnessing you.
Once again, you search for words and come up with none.
There was no expectation of gratitude motivating his powerfully quiet act of kindness. Clearly, he didn’t expect to still be here while you napped off the lingering fog from the anesthesia. But he is here.
“I must have quite the grip when I’m high,” you manage to offer.
A way to ask without truly asking: Why are you still here?
Chan snorts, then he shakes his head while he answers, “Nah, you moved like you were made of jelly. I just didn’t want you to cry again.”
Somewhere, a record scratches. Your eyes go wide, expression otherwise withheld to keep your shock and mortification to yourself.
Again?
Vulnerability isn’t a thing you do. It took all you had to ask for his help in the first place. You’d rather drop dead on the ground than cry in front of anyone, let alone the person you keep at arm’s length and still sleep with on a recurring basis. Absolutely not. There’s no fucking way.
“What?” You croak. Almost as embarrassing as the crying, your dried-out throat and the hoarseness of your voice leave your face burning. You clear your throat again. It doesn’t make a difference. “Why did I cry? Pain?”
Fuck, you hope so. You pray for some yet unknown, minor surgical complication that would justify this uncharacteristic crack in your armor. For some excuse you can lean on.
“Worms,” Chan chirps with a shrug, as if that explanation truly explains anything.
You balk. “I would never cry over seeing a worm. It didn’t even rain this week; there wouldn’t be any on the sidewalk.”
He clamps his lips together for a moment, like he’s steeling himself, trying not to laugh in your face. You appreciate the gesture, kind of. Rather, you would — if he had a better poker face. The one looking back at you instead looks fully endeared, which makes you more embarrassed than his laughter ever could.
“I ran into the pharmacy to grab your pain meds, and when I came back to the car, you were sobbing. I was freaking out, thinking you were hurt or something, but no.” His grin comes at full force. “You were scared that worms may not have best friends.”
Oh, my god.
“Oh, my god,” you groan, this time out-loud. Instinctively, you drop your burning cheeks into your hands, hissing in pain the second they settle. You jerk backwards, yelping, “Oh, my god.”
Proving his attentiveness in real time, Chan shifts closer quickly, like a starting gun has been fired. His hands encircle your wrist gently, prompting you to look at him. Once he has your attention, his eyes scan your face in search of visible injury. A triage of sorts. Worry evident, he checks in: “You good?”
Yes, and no.
Yes, your gums are especially sore now that you’ve put excess pressure on them; but no, there isn’t a mouthful of blood hiding behind your tightly pursed lips.
Yes, you feel safe and cared for with him here; but no, you’re not fucking used to it, and it’s making your blurry brain spin.
How are you supposed to answer that question? You don’t even know which one he’s really asking. Before you say a word, you take inventory again.
What you have is Chan in your bedroom while the sun is still up, fully clothed and above the sheets. He’s here because when he tried to leave, he gave into your small act of subconscious resistance, too afraid of upsetting you. He stayed. He’d witnessed you cry about worms, and he stayed — perfectly still at your side long enough to fall asleep.
What you have is medication to deal with the pain you just exacerbated because Chan went out of his way to pick it up from the pharmacy.
What you have is heart palpitations, a different type of nerves blooming when you realize that dispelling his worry now will result in him taking his reactive touch away.
What you don’t have is the strength of will to lie to someone who looks at you the way Chan currently is, like he may not be able to breathe correctly unless and until he knows you’re okay.
“Yeah,” you eventually sigh. “I am. I’m good.”
In fact, you’re even better when he and his hands choose — once again — to stay.
while likes are appreciated, comments/tags/reblogs with your thoughts are really what make my brain go brrrtt.
skz permanent taglist: @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sourkimchi @stayceebs97
multi permanent taglist: @jihopesjoint @bahng-chrizz, @notevenheretbh1
#bang chan#stray kids#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#stray kids fluff#bang chan imagines#stray kids imagines#bang chan scenarios#stray kids scenarios#bang chan drabble#stray kids drabble#chan#skz#jade writes#jade’s requests#re: the one with chan and the promotion#kvanity
156 notes
·
View notes
Text
Funny Moments In the HoL
Just little things that MC would totally share with their friends in the Human Realm.
- You all decided to play Hide & Seek (with a few rules about locations). The winner was Leviathan. He hid in a cooking pot and the only reason anyone found him is after everyone else was found, Beel got hungry and turned the pot on. Poor Levi’s tail had a burn for days.
- Mammon stole your D.D.D. once. He returned it with more selfies than Asmo takes of himself loaded in there. You saved the naughty ones for later.
- Beel accidentally ate a burger squeaky toy you got for Cerberus. The squeaker and all. He got the hiccups later that day and everyone laughed at the squeaking going off.
- Solomon spent the night with you and Asmo. Asmo kissed his head at one point and left a kiss mark in his hair with his lipstick. It took DAYS to wash out. You then borrowed Asmo’s lipstick and put the mark right back on your favorite sorcerer.
- You got a cute rat plush for yourself. Barbatos saw it and your room was unusable for a few days.
- The entire household caught a cold and everyone was miserable. So you all just watched a bunch of movies all cuddled together. Belphie promised Mammon that the movie ‘Cabin In The Woods’ wasn’t a horror movie. It was a romantic one, showing him the reviews for a movie called ‘The Lake House’. Poor Mammon hid under your blanket almost the whole movie.
- You introduced Asmo to Elton John. Asmo loved his fashion and you’ve seen some of the most ridiculous outfits known to man, angels, and demons alike. You saved the pictures.
- You lost a bet to Levi and had to wear a Ruri-chan cosplay to RAD. This backfired because Levi couldn’t focus all day and took way too many pictures.
- You proposed a talent show to Diavolo. You regretted it almost immediately. The Little D’s, while great dancers, are HORRIBLE singers! They looked adorable though.
- You have discovered that Satan headbutts you when he wants attention. He accidentally did it with his horns once. Thank Diavolo they only slightly tore your clothes. But your arm was sore for weeks. Luke and Lucifer chastized him over the bruise.
- Lucifer bought a second motorized wheelchair. It’s not needed. No. He bought it so that you guys could all have wheelchair races.
- You sang the song ‘My R’ and the house was MASS PANIC! Everyone was so worried about you and you had to explain that no, you’re not depressed, you just like the song. No. Liking the song doesn’t mean I’m depressed. Really guys. I promise I’m OK. It took a LOT of convincing, but they eventually realized you were actually OK. They still made you go talk to Simeon just as a precaution. Simeon was just... very confused, but was glad you were OK.
- You mentioned to Asmo that pole dancing is a form of working out. Asmo INSTANTLY bought two dance poles. They lasted less than a day because the moment you tried to use it with Asmodeus, the house lost their shit. Lucifer had to get rid of them for your (hips) well being.
- Belphie one time fell asleep in the bathroom. You walked in and found him standing near the sink, head under the faucet as it ran. You took a picture and then helped him.
- Luke went sniffing around your room and found a vibrator. You told him it was a personal massager and he asked if he could use it to massage his back. You told him no and to not poke around your room like that again. You explained this to Simeon who turned beet red... and then asked to see the vibrator himself... Just so that he can make to avoid Luke seeing such things again. Obviously.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me one master to rule them all#obey me om#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me levi#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me asmo#obey me beelzebub#obey me beel#obey me belphegor#obey me belphie#obey me solomon#obey me simeon#obey me luke#obey me barbatos#obey me diavolo
765 notes
·
View notes
Note
I gasped really loudly when I saw your post, can I request a thing with our baby girl, Master Chief? Like something cute with him reuniting with his s/o, or just something with him getting all the love?
i'm so glad we are on the same page about master chief being baby girl <3
--
goodnight n go
(you should listen to the slow version of goodnight n go by ariana)
master chief, John 117 x gen!reader
wc: 1473
warnings: none, just excruciating fluff
~*~*~*~
You were used to the wait.
You were used to the constant pining and apprehension that would seep through you every time you watched John walk into those battle ships, never knowing if the glimmer of his armor would be the last thing you would see of him.
Every time he left, you would just hope that he would return, and that you would be in his arms sooner rather than later. You could say that it has gotten slightly easier over the years, since John seemed to be made of luck. He always came back in one piece. Maybe a couple of scratches here or there, but he always came back to you.
Typically, when John was on his missions, you would keep yourself busy by overworking yourself in order to keep your rambling thoughts at bay. At first, your supervisors were wary about how much you were working yourself. But over time, they either gave up trying to convince you to go home, or realized how much it helped you to stay busy, to stay moving. You had to, otherwise you would go crazy just thinking about all of the danger John puts himself in every day. It didn’t matter if he was gone a few days, a week, or even a month. The time he spent away from you always felt like an eternity.
You were now standing in the loading dock, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, hands clasped behind your back, looking out at the runway.
Homecoming days were always your favorite, and you always arrived at the dock much earlier than needed in order to greet the Blue team just as they arrived back on Reach. You’re pretty sure the other Spartans poke fun at John for it, but you couldn’t care less.
You’ve probably been waiting for a little over forty-five minutes when you finally see that familiar pelican flying towards you. You know it’s him and his team because of the bright red Firebird painted on the nose of the ship.
The ship starts to land and gusts of wind make your hair ruffle, ruining all of the time and effort you put into it to look presentable. You quickly forget about your hair state when the door of the pelican slides open and those familiar Mjolnir shoes peak out, and begin descending the ramp.
John is always the last to exit, so as the other Spartan start to pass you, you briefly acknowledge them with a slight nod, but your eyes never leave the ship. They’re only looking for him.
Finally, finally you see the gold tint of his helmet’s visor and the infamous green glint of his armor.
Your feet have a mind of their own when they start moving towards him, breaking into a light job. Your face breaks into a breathtaking smile and when you finally reach John, you basically crash into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. You hear him slightly laugh through the comms from his helmet, and he returns your hug, lifting you off the ground with ease as he holds you tight.
“Hey, bug.” He sets you down gently, and runs a gloved hand down your head, cupping your cheek. His thumb softly moving back and forth on your warm skin.
You bring your hand up to his, and grasp it as you smile up at him, “Hey, you.”
~*~*~*~
A few hours later you find yourself in front of John’s door, waiting for him to let you in. It’s been a few hours since he touched down on Reach. You gave him some time to un-suit from his armor, debrief HQ, among other things. He’s a busy man, and there’s always at least one official that needs to talk to him.
Luckily for you, the mission he was just on wasn’t super long, and also not as critical as his past missions. Therefore, the debriefs didn’t take up the whole day like they usually do, and he was back at his apartment at a reasonable time (for once).
Which leads you to now, standing at his door, once again rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet.
The door finally swings open, revealing a smiling John, and he ushers you inside. He places his hand on the small of your back as you walk into his living room, making small talk about your walk over to his place.
It’s evening now, and John has the low lights turned on in his living room, giving the impression that his home is glowing. The comforting atmosphere wraps around you like a blanket as you go to sit down on his couch.
“So, what do you want to do? I have dinner made for us, but afterwards is completely up to you.” You run your hand down his arm, touched that he thought to make dinner for you. He was surprisingly a great chef, something you weren’t expecting when you first started dating.
“That’s an after-dinner worry, let’s eat then figure it out.” John lightly laughs and agrees.
You spend most of dinner asking him about his mission and he tells you all that he can (seeing that most of his missions are classified). It’s one of your favorite pastimes. He’s been all over the galaxy, to so many different planets and places and you love to hear all about these adventures through his eyes. You sometimes wish he would take you with him to these far-off places, no matter how unrealistic that is.
You guys decide to keep it simple and watch a movie after dinner, so you wrap yourselves under two big blankets, and John tucks you under his arm, your head resting on his chest. You can feel the rhythm of his breathing as his chest moves up and down. His steady heartbeat thrums through his chest, once again reminding you that he’s real and not a figment of your imagination. The laundry detergent that lingers on his clothes makes a feeling of ease wash over you because it always reminds you that you’re safe and that he’s here with you and that he’s okay, alive.
Your hand rests on his upper abdomen, and you can feel the taught ridges of his abs underneath his black t-shirt. You absentmindedly trace circles on him with your fingers and you feel his hand do the same on your shoulder. Your leg is thrown over his lap, and there is no inch of you that is not pressed up against John. You are completely and utterly wrapped up in each other, not even a piece of paper could fit between you guys. His hand comes up to rub your hair, and you feel him kiss the crown of your head.
“I missed you a lot, you know.” His chest rumbles as he confesses this and your heart warms at the sentiment, a slight smile pulls at your lips.
You squeeze him, and feel his arm tighten around you. You move to sit up straighter so you can look at him and your hand cups his face, your thumb brushing over the slight stubble that’s grown since he’s been gone.
You confess, “Me too,” then lean in to kiss him.
He deepens the kiss as his hand gently cups the back of your head. You and John exist in this diminutive pocket of time where it’s just you two, and nothing else. You find yourself slipping into this space whenever you’re with him, and never wanting your time here to end. Never wanting to enter the reality in which he leaves again. You push those thoughts away for now though, and just continue to exist as you are with him.
You finally break away from each other, and you smile at him, taking in every detail of his face. Your thumb traces over the scar that starts above his left eye, and continues down the side of his temple. You leave a kiss there.
Next, your eyes flit over to the jagged scar in the hollow of his cheek. Your lips softly press down there, tracing the line of the wound he got many years ago. When you reach the end of it, your lips are at the corner of his, and you place one last kiss there.
You break away, and quietly say, “I’m glad you’re here.” He gives you a longing look, his eyes flitting to yours and his hand smooths down your hair as he replies, “Me too.”
~*~*~*
You and John spend the remainder of the night wrapped up in each other, getting lost in each other’s touches and confessions, finding simple pleasure in just being able to be close to one another.
You think to yourself, the wait is always worth it for moments like these.
#master chief x reader#john 117 x reader#master chief x you#john 117 x you#halo master chief x reader#halo master chief x you#master chief fanfiction#john 117 fanfiction#halo master chief fanfiction#halo master chief request#master chief request#john 117 request#halo master chief fluff#master chief fluff#john 117 fluff#halo fanfiction#halo fanfiction fluff#halo request#halo#master chief#halo master chief
213 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
willgrahamkinnie
^-^:3^_^O_o
ellie-to-blog
𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓮
theweirdoinurhouse
Your Local Cryptid Crow
asianleather9
Asian Leather Guys
kurtofficial
vie