#a teasing fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jewishrat420 · 4 months

Text

No one has ever flirted with Steve the way Eddie flirts with Steve.

And it's not like no one flirts with Steve. God, no, it's not like no one flirts with Steve. Steve can't walk into the grocery store without at least three sets of heads turning and focusing all their attention on him.

And he's not even trying to be cocky about it. That's just the reality he was gifted when he came out of his mother's womb looking like the world's freshest Adonis. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if they changed the colloquialism to "Steve."

Regardless. For as many people like to flirt with him, make themselves known, filtering in and out of his orbit like willing planets, no one knows quite how to get him going like Eddie. Maybe it's that they're not as confident as he is, maybe they're scared of the rejection Eddie was born facing and will die knowing.

Maybe they're scared of ruining their chances. Maybe Eddie isn't.

For whatever reason, Eddie doesn't seem like he's scared. Even though there was a long time before he knew Steve was bi, was just as into the flirting as Eddie was, even though there was a chance (not like it'd ever happen, but the unknown was there) that Steve could have beaten him up just for calling him "sweetheart," he did it anyway. He got right up into Steve's space, close enough that Steve could get high off the remnants of the joint he'd smoked earlier, and gave him a look that offered everything.

And, God, Steve wanted it. He wanted it all.

And so that began months of what Steve has so aptly referred to as torture. Apt, because he knows what it's like. He has the scars and the fear of ice cream and needles to prove it.

But this... this is a different kind of torture. Mental, emotional, spiritual, whatever you call it-- this is meant to tear him apart from the inside out, meant to make him want to rip his own bones out from his body and offer them to Eddie if it meant the other man making a fucking move.

And Steve would, is the thing. He would absolutely make the first move-- it's what he usually does, anyway, and he's got a pretty damn good success rate for it.

But, for whatever reason, this feels different. This back and forth they have, the constant teasing, the sliding in and out of each other's orbits, unable and unwilling to refute the most fundamental laws of gravity... it's something special, at least to Steve. Something sacred.

Which is why, when Eddie calls Steve "Harrington" for the first time in months, his first response is to pout.

They're about halfway through splitting a joint, the sweet smoke curling around wisps of hair and parted lips and filtering in and out of the holes in their sweaters. The air outside is getting colder, thinner, sharper, as the winter months dreg on. But inside the trailer, it's comfortable and warm. Safe.

Steve's being a bit of a hog, and he's man enough to admit that. But he had a shitty day at work and all he wants is to feel nothing other than the weightless relaxation of a good high buzzing through his bones. Sue him for taking a little more than his fair share of the good stuff, even if it is Eddie's.

"Steve," Eddie whines, reaching his hand out and curling his fingers in request. "Give it over."

"No," Steve responds, just on the edge of whiny. He brings the joint to his lips and takes a long, slow, deep drag, feeling the sweet heat of the smoke burning in his lungs, taking up the space where oxygen should be. He goes a little dizzy with it, feels his eyes lower. "Mine."

Steve can't see it, but he knows Eddie's rolling his eyes. Can sense the shift in the air, can sense every little fucking thing about Eddie at any given moment.

"C'mon, Harrington, you're being a brat."

And, normally, Steve would find another aspect of that sentence to freak out about. Would zero in on the word brat and relish in the flare of heat it sends shooting up his spine like firework sparks. Would squint his eyes at Eddie and tilt his head in the way he knows makes him look good, would give him his cutest little smirk and say, "Who, me?" and would preen in the response it gets.

This time, though, he's much too focused on the other name Eddie used for him. The one he hasn't heard come out of Eddie's mouth since before he realized that Steve was, as he put it, "actually a good dude."

He doesn't realize he's pouting until the sudden silence in the room starts to creep in, make a home in the buzzing in his ears. He didn't realize that he didn't say anything, and neither did Eddie, and now they're sitting in a mess of their own making. Of Eddie's own making, really.

His next words come out without effort, without intent.

"Don't call me that."

He chances a look over at Eddie, at the risk of appearing as vulnerable as he feels, and to his distress, he can't get a read on the man. His dark eyebrows furrow, brown eyes squinting slightly, and his lips part like he wants to speak. He licks them. Steve's eyes follow the motion unintentionally.

"Call you what?" Eddie says on an exhale. "A brat?"

Steve shakes his head. "Harrington. Don't like it when you call me that."

Eddie kind of softens, then, and Steve didn't realize he had stiffened until he isn't anymore. He sort of sinks into the couch, spreads his legs imperceptibly wider, and Steve wouldn't have noticed if it wasn't for the way his left knee brushes against Steve's just barely. Just enough for those heated sparks to send a couple pinpricks across his skin.

"No?" he says, looking over to meet Steve's gaze. His cheeks are flushed, whether from the weed or the heat of the room or the heat between them, and Steve's sure that his look the same. "What do you want me to call you, then?"

Steve's definitely blushing now. He looks away from Eddie, tucks his chin to his chest, lets the joint between his fingers burn away. Eddie takes it from him, gently, and brings it to his lips. Steve hears the paper crackling as he inhales.

His voice is quiet, almost meek, when he speaks. It's completely unlike Steve, completely unlike the persona he used to so proudly take on-- but then again, Eddie is completely unlike anyone that Steve has ever met. He's more real, more human, and in turn, Steve is too.

"...You know."

Eddie makes a little noise, then, something in the back of his throat that was born and died within the very same second it was released. Something soft, almost pained, like his body couldn't help the reaction it had to that sentence.

Steve watches the thin, long line of Eddie's arm reach forward and press the joint into the glass of the ashtray. He follows the motion until Eddie's hand settles into the rips over his knee, fingers intertwining with the thread. His pinkie is dangerously close to Steve's own sweatpant-covered skin, and he feels the contact as if Eddie were touching him.

Eddie's hand twitches like it wants to move, and Steve resists the urge to grab it, hold it within the warmth of his own palms.

"Do I?" Eddie says, his voice quieter than it was a moment ago. That thick silence fills the trailer once more, settling in between the soft buzzing of the lightbulb in the kitchen and the muffled humming of the crickets outside. Steve hears Eddie take a stuttering breath. "Tell me."

Steve sighs, feeling his chest burn as his heartbeat picks up. His throat pounds with the pulsing of it. He places his own hand on his right knee, pinkie finger edging closer and closer to the space where Eddie's meets his. Eddie's hand twitches again.

"Like it when you call me sweet things," he says on an exhale, as though getting it out all in one breath would make it easier. "Like how it makes me feel."

Eddie lets out another one of those noises, then, something more like a cut-off groan. His hand curls into the fabric of his jeans for no more than a second before he releases it, and Steve gets to watch as the blood blanches and then returns to his knuckles.

"Sweet things, huh?" he muses, voice only slightly strained. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say Eddie is nervous. "Like... Stevie?"

Steve hums. "Yeah. I like that."

Eddie's pinkie moves closer. Barely. Imperceptibly, if not for the way Steve is tuned into his every movement, like a dog to the sound of their owner's keys.

"Yeah?"

Steve hums again.

"What about... sweetheart?"

Steve closes his eyes. Lets out a shaky breath, inhales a smoother one.

"Yeah."

Steve feels something brush against his pinkie. Something warm.

"Honey?"

Steve nods, biting his lip. "Mhm."

Eddie lets out a quiet little laugh. "Even big boy?"

Steve returns it helplessly, feels the edges of a smile pulling at his lips. The air feels cold on his teeth, as though he's burning up from the inside out and anything outside of his own body is a cooling salve.

"Especially big boy."

Eddie laughs a little louder, and the jostling of his body brings his pinkie even closer to Steve's. Completely pressed against his own, now.

Steve swears he can feel his heartbeat through it. Or maybe it's his own.

"What about..." Eddie takes a breath. "Love?"

Steve's own breath hitches. He opens his eyes, looks at where their skin is touching in more than one place. He feels it, feels every point of contact where the cells that make Eddie are existing with the cells that make Steve. Wonders, maybe, if they stay here long enough, if they'll merge and mold over time. Become one.

"Yeah," Steve breathes. "I like that one a lot."

Eddie hums, and the room falls back into silence for a moment. Steve's skin burns where their fingers are touching. He moves his hand to the right, just barely, just enough to let Eddie know that he feels it. Just enough to ask Eddie if he does, too.

His response is overwhelming.

Eddie moves his hand to the left, solidifies all the points of contact between them, and Steve feels like he's exploding. Feels like a bubbling pit of lava that's set to burst, to overflow, like it can't hold back anymore. Like it's tried for so long that it's hurting, now, pressurized and boiling and hot, way too fucking hot.

And then, Eddie crosses his pinkie over Steve's, and Steve thinks he's dying.

He takes in a sharp breath like it's the last one he'll ever get, and he doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed about it. He knows Eddie is right there with him, knows he's not the only one feeling this irrefutable pull like gravity between them. Knows, hopes, it's only a matter of time before they collide.

Eddie hums again. He taps his pinkie once over the smallest of Steve's knuckles, almost like he's making a decision. He takes a long, slow breath before he speaks.

"You know which one's my favorite?"

Steve's throat clicks. "Which?"

"Look at me."

Steve turns his head to the right for no more than a second before Eddie's lips are on his.

It's hungry, it's indulgent, it's immediately addictive. It feels like breathing.

Eddie presses his whole body against Steve's, and he can feel the way his tendons flex where his hand is covering the back of Steve's. Where their pinkies meet, their fingers intertwine and cross over one another like the roots of a tree, their bodies the whole mycorrhizal network.

The next word is spoken against Steve's lips, and Steve can feel the way his mouth forms around it. Decides, from this moment on, that he never wants to hear it another way.

"Baby."

Steve's exhale is more of a moan, a dying sound that, like Eddie's before, lived for only a moment in his throat before pushing through the wall of his lips. Eddie takes it, holds it in his own mouth, swallows it down hungrily and slides his tongue against Steve's as though asking for more.

"That's--" Steve pants, getting his hands on Eddie's hips and pulling until he's seated in his lap. "Mine too."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, his lips still pressed against Steve's. Their words are muffled against each other, but they don't need to hear them to understand. They only need to feel the outline of them, the shape of the consonants and vowels against and around each other's tongues. They only need to press their bodies together and know, intimately, the meaning in each other's hearts.

"Yeah. Want you to call me that forever."

This time, Steve feels Eddie's laughter against his lips. His chest. Feels it bubble up in the space between his ribs, feels it flow into his mouth like a river, swallows it down like the first glass of water after a run. Feels his own creep up behind his teeth in return, gives it back to Eddie like an offering, who takes it greedily. Hungrily. Gratefully.

"Think that can be arranged, baby."

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie headcanon #absolutely no idea where this came from #but it's here #first kiss #mutual pining #flirting #steddie first kiss #teasing #steve harrington is down bad #eddie munson is down equally bad #idk how to tag things

4K notes · View notes

gutsby · 4 months

Text

Trigger Tease(r)

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Before his morning briefing, your mob boss husband decides to take a pit stop in the sauna with you.

Warnings: 18+. Oral (f!receiving). Gentle fingerfucking. Praise and degradation. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Bucky talking you through it. Bimbofication if you squint.

Notes: @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast - you inspired me 🪽 I just had to crank out a little teaser for the third installment of Wedded Bliss. I hope y’all like it 💓

Full version here

In between breakfast and the start of your husband’s early briefing, you found yourself situated in much the same way you’d been spending a lot of time these days: pinned up against the wall of a wood-paneled sauna, Bucky’s broad shoulders supporting both of your legs as he buried his face deep between your thighs. You sighed.

“Hold still,” Bucky grunted, voice muffled as he tried to keep your slick, squirming body in place above him.

You yelped and seized a fistful of his hair when he wedged his tongue even further inside you, nudging your clit with his nose almost too teasingly and deliberate.

“I can’t…help it,” you bit back, ignoring the brief glare you earned from your husband as soon as you said it, “Your tongue’s just so— s— James!”

This time, Bucky let out a full-throated groan when you yanked on those poor wet locks of his—‘Gonna make me bald by next Christmas if you keep doin’ that, honey’—and he pried his head from your legs just long enough to knock you flat on the sauna bench close by.

The western red cedar seared hot on your skin, already flushed from the exhaustion wrought by Bucky’s tongue; you hardly had the strength to hold yourself up when he pushed you onto your back and crawled over your body.

“How ‘bout my fingers, doll? Can you take a couple’a those for me?” Bucky crooned above you as he stroked your hair, bathed in pure sunlight pouring in from the windows. His voice was a touch more sympathetic now.

After all, this was your third orgasm of the morning. It really wasn’t fair for him to use that biological weapon of mass destruction he liked to call his tongue when he knew how sensitive your clit would get from just one ‘O’. Even his hands might be too much in your current state.

Bucky was busy peppering your skin with kisses, working his way from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, when you whimpered and tried to fight a smile.

“Finger,” you corrected him, “Just one finger, Barnes.”

You would’ve thought you’d just thrown your wedding ring in his face and told him to eat shit. Just one?

“How’s one finger s’posed to stretch you out for my cock, huh? Practically had you screamin’ when I stuck it in last night,” Bucky wasn’t one to hide his amusement, grinning even bigger when you swatted him on the arm.

“Who said anything about your cock?” You tried to keep cool as Bucky’s fingers trailed right back down to the place you felt yourself throbbing, aching for his touch, “You have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Meeting doesn’t start until I say so, my love,” Bucky reminded you just as his index ghosted over your folds.

In truth, he was willing to play this game any way, and for however long, you wanted it done, so long as he was the one bringing you pleasure. Be that his cock, his finger, or all fucking five on one hand, Bucky just wanted to get you off. It was better sustenance to him than the whole damn meal the two of you had eaten that morning.

Bucky kept it down to one digit and lightly circled your bundle of nerves when he sensed you were ready.

You gripped his forearm and shot a quick look between your legs, still in disbelief as to how he could make you feel this good so soon after you’d cum twice before. You felt his lips drift over to yours and steal a few kisses.

“Always doin’ so good for me,” Bucky praised, moving his finger in circles. When you whined against his mouth, he pressed it even harder, “Such a good girl for daddy.”

“James,” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

“Everything OK?”

“Uh-huh.”

More than OK, in fact. That delectable coil of sweet, euphoric release was already swelling gently in your tummy. Bucky moved his finger even faster.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmured low in your ear.

Bucky loved seeing you try to articulate your feelings—relatively fresh and new to your world, still—while he was giving you pleasure. Adored the way you winced and whined and arched your back into his touch as a whole blustering hailstorm of sensations crashed over you.

He sank his tongue in your mouth as he kissed you, as if trying to extract the words from between your lips. Your response, in consequence, came somewhat stifled.

“Mm— feels so, oh—” Your voice broke off in a moan when Bucky tightened his circles, “—so good, daddy.”

“Wanna show daddy how good and cum for me?”

Bucky knew by the way you were whimpering under his hand that the tendril in your stomach had almost tripled in size. It wouldn’t take much to tip you over the edge.

“My sweet girl,” he said, rubbing your cunt at the same time he was stroking the back of your head, gently, “Feels so nice down there, doesn’t it?”

You rolled your hips against the bench and nodded. Your breaths were short and ragged, panting helplessly into Bucky’s mouth when he adjusted his hand just a little: pressing the pad of his thumb to your clit, with his index moving down to your entrance. Pushing inside you.

“Another,” you choked, not thinking.

Bucky met your desperate gaze and nodded, knowing this was exactly what you needed to make it over the precipice.

Still, he wouldn’t be Bucky if he didn’t tease just a bit.

“I thought my wife wanted one finger,” he hummed, brow pinching inward.

“No, no.” You could’ve shrieked when he curled the digit, “Want more— Bucky, please, please, I need more.”

Again, your husband appeared to nod in understanding, but his fingers didn’t budge. He worked his thumb a little faster and watched you writhe on the seat beneath him.

“How many, honey? Don’t wanna hurt my baby.” His words were all kindness, it seemed, but his tone laced with shameless condescension—the kind that said, yes, I know you need this, and no, I won’t indulge you just yet. Bucky was the worst when he wanted to prove a point. You could’ve ripped at his clothes and torn them in two if you weren’t both stark naked and shrouded in steam.

You opted to pull at his hair instead.

Bucky winced, but the smirk never left.

“I said how many?” he pressed again.

“Three. Four.” Fuck if you knew.

Your husband raised both eyebrows and hummed, a single finger still plunging in and out of your cunt in quick succession. He teased the tip of another at your entrance and smiled even more when you whined.

“Needy little thing, isn’t she?”

“Bucky—”

“Just wants to fuck daddy’s hand to get herself off, hm?”

Bucky didn’t bother to mask his sweet, degrading tone any longer as he talked down and teased you to no end. It drove him half-insane to see you squirm around, rut your hips, let him say the filthiest fucking words he could conjure up, and just bob your head to whatever he said. His impeccant wife and her insatiable needs—Bucky couldn’t even begin to express how turned on the sheer dichotomy got him. He stared in your eyes, all glossy and soft, and felt his cock stand even more rigid on his belly.

He didn’t give a shit if he’d taunted you enough or not; he just shoved his middle and ring fingers alongside the first and clenched his jaw to start fucking you hard with all three.

Your whole face contorted with pleasure, tinged with the faintest shade of discomfort at the tail end of it. You’d forgotten how big his fingers felt all together.

“Bucky,” you whined, mindlessly clawing at the wrist that was moving back and forth, fast, between your legs, “B-Baby, slow— slow down a little.”

But Bucky was deep in the zone. He knew you wanted it too—sensed that you liked to play it safe when it came to your pleasure and grew a little timid at times it got to feel too much—and he needed to talk you through it.

Rather than turn his head and keep to himself as he got you up to your peak, Bucky pressed his face down to yours and nodded again—this time with a tender sincerity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Bucky kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his fingers wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking wife, so good at taking my fingers.”

“Gonna be nice and stretched out for my cock, hm?”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Bucky wanted you. Exactly how you needed to be, bucking your hips in time with the cadence of his fingers fucking inside you, and soon, those whimpers were turning to moans as that soft little helix inside you reached its breaking point.

Bucky brushed once or twice more against your sensitive spot, and suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his wrist you feared you might snap it in two, and then getting kissed again, over and over while Bucky drank in your every sound, and the few tears that sprung to your eyes as they always did, like sweet nectar.

You were still moaning, curling your tongue feebly against his own and leaning into him as far as you could, when your husband slipped three fingers up between your mouths and pushed them past your parted lips.

“Suck,” Bucky said, gritting his teeth as he watched you, “C’mere, honey, taste your cunt on my fingers.”

You took him in and sucked your arousal off his fingers just like he asked. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his hand, where your juices had no doubt collected too.

That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Bucky could’ve wanted.

He climbed on top of you and took the base of his cock, rock-hard and weeping tears of precum from the tip, almost drunk from the feeling himself. His mouth hung open as he dragged himself over the seam of your cunt.

“I need to fuck you.”

Taglist (STILL HAVE TO UPDATE THIS I'M DUMB AS SHIT): @vicmc624, @she-could-never, @mcira, @kentokaze, @identity2212, @unaxv, @buchi91, @ordelixx, @stinkerbelle007, @opibarnes, @wilsons-striped-ties, @desigirlxx, @pono-pura-vida, @geminiflanagansblog, @fandomsfeminismandme, @buggy14, @sky-full-0f-fl0wers, @buckysdoll1520, @armystay89, @minimarvelingmarvel, @kunakizen, @ghostiebby06, @blackhawkfanatic, @dameron-grant-spector, @sushiseoks, @deansapplepie, @mrsjoequinn, @lunaroserites, @first-edition, @kaybaby2494, @jaggedsi, @excusememrbarnes, @daisychainsoflove, @mostlymarvelgirl, @diannana, @shawnberry, @yujyujj, @urmomsalex, @mrs-bucky-barnes-73, @athenabarnes, @christinabae, @wintrsoldrluvr, @bethbunnyy, @i-heart-smut @dixsond

#THE TITLE WILL MAKE SENSE LATER I PROMISE #it’s ‘tease’ not ‘teaser’ in the full fic that was just my attempt at humor #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #mob bucky barnes #marvel smut #marvel x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #mob boss bucky #mob!bucky

2K notes · View notes

vypridae · 3 months

Text

silly thing i doodled of @sleepykittties fic 'Clerical Error' (link here) because i cannot get enough

don't ask how val found out what vox looked like in heaven (vox doesn't wanna talk about it)

1K notes · View notes

findafight · 10 months

Text

Severely neglected component of modernish rockstar Eddie fics is Robin deciding to become an internet hater for Eddie. Like she finds out Eddie is semi/famous and is like "oh, you know what'll be hilarious?" And makes a twitter account dedicated to dissing him. You cannot convince me she wouldn't. Eddie knows she runs the account (it's not even negative it's just to rag on him. Tweets like "Eddie Munson seems like the kind of guy who would tell his friend he'll get her dr pepper and then get some bullshit knockoff. What the hell is a peppo" and "Eddie Munson has probably gotten so distracted by his SO that he walked into a wall and then was still so distracted said SO thought he was concussed." Or "Jeff is actually the best member of CC Eddie probably walked on cafeteria tables in HS" And of course "everybody says I hate on Eddie too much but they don't know he woke his SOs bff up just to ask if there was any peppo left. Twice.") But he can't do anything about it. It's a bit of a meme, because the account never says anything actually mean about Eddie, or his music. Just. Bizarre hypotheticals. (They are not hypothetical)

People are like "how do you feel about EddieMunsonh8r at twitter dot com"

And he has to grit his teeth and say people can have their own opinions about him, ignoring the fact that Robin was literally sitting beside him poking him when she tweeted earlier that day about him wiggling his fingers and saying he'd like to have a little morsel (in reference to cheezies).

When asked why she does it she just says "to keep him humble. And also it's funny to see if people believe he would do this stuff."

Gareth proposes one of them make an account like that about Steve, semi famous stuntman who's doing some more acting now, and the next day Robin tweets "CC seems like the kid of guys who'd make a fake hater account about Steve and use actually silly billy things he does as content" (Jeff tattled)(Eddie groaned)(Steve and Robin cackled)

#robin Buckley #eddie munson #steve Harrington #steddie #stobin #honestly most steddie fics lack robin absolutely razzing on eddie #eddie being famous? she has apublic forum for teasing him.#tbh to me famous eddie is a vehicle for robin being funny (esp if qpr lavender marriage stobin)#rockstar eddie munson #platonic stobin #finda's rambles #finda writes stuff #not really but kinda #stranger things #actually. robin would do this either way if eddie was famous or not #she just more reach and influence if eddie is famous

3K notes · View notes

zepskies · 9 months

Note

Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like

Dean: Hey baby

Reader: She's busy

I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭

Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader Word Count: 850

Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.

Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.

They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.

Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.

Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?

A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.

Yeah, just getting a few things.

Dean rolled his eyes. Right.

For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?

Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.

Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.

Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lawrence, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.

He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.

But...you didn't answer when he called.

Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.

Hey, baby. You up?

He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...

She's busy.

Dean frowned. What the hell?

Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?

But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.

Stop messing around.

Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."

She'll call you back, dude.

Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.

What the fuck is this?

She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.

All right. WHO is this?

Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.

A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.

Then he responded.

Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.

Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.

"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.

"You make it too easy," you replied.

He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.

"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"

"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.

"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.

That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"

For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.

In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.

Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)

Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.

"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.

"When are you getting home?" you asked.

He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.

"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."

"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."

He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.

"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.

Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.

He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?

...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.

"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."

"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.

"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."

And she's about to get punished.

The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #texting Dean #and teasing Dean #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

2K notes · View notes

shadebloopnik · 2 months

Text

Unrequited/One-sided Radioapple but it isn't treated like an angsty end of the world thing.

Imagine they slowly get closer after all the banters, and eventually becoming close friends. Lucifer ends up catching feelings for him, and after a long while, decides to confess and ask Alastor if he felt the same.

Alastor admittedly does not feel the same.

He's getting uncomfortable, struggling to keep his composure because he's DONE this before. He KNOWS how this ends. He remembers Vox and all his insistent declarations of affection and desperate pleas for Alastor to reciprocate; the possessive entitlement. He remembers how all those sickly sweet words morphed into something venomous when he didn't give the lowlife what he wanted. He remembers the anger, the ridiculous notion that it was Alastor's fault why he was so mad, that Alastor led him on and that he obviously deserved something in payment for it all-

So yes, Alastor knows how this ends.

It doesn't mean he isn't disappointed though, because he actually LIKES Lucifer, far more than he ever did Vox. Perhaps not in the way the king might have wanted, but he did. He treasured their little talks, their drinking sessions, their shared love for their instruments, Lucifers singing, their little duets, the banter, the playful jabs, the sparring.

He'd even slowly grown accustomed to the other's touches, not feeling the same surge of disgust and discomfort whenever the shorter man would grab at his arm in excitement, forgetting his usual thoughtfulness of Alastor's touch aversion for the short moment of whatever distracted him. Alastor even enjoyed it at times, relaxing at the feel of soft feathers beneath his claws, or the sensation of gentle scratches against his ears.

Difficult as it was to admit, Alastor had grown to care for the angel, the same way he had for Rosie orv Mimzy.

But no matter how fond Alastor was of Lucifer, it didn't change the fact that he didn't feel the same way romantically, or even sexually. No way in the 7 rings of Hell was he going to lie to Lucifer about either, not going to even entertain the idea of pretending he reciprocated for Lucifer's sake. He respected his friend too much for that.

So a clear, direct rejection it is. It was a shame, but nothing could be done. He said his piece concisely, and waited, shoulders set, back straight, smile and eyes a careful blank canvas as he prepared for the inevitable.

Lucifer nodded, a normal soft smile still in place, "Thank you for your answer, it means a lot."

Which......what? Alastor expected an outburst, or at the very least sharp words.

What he did NOT expect was....acceptance? And not just that but, a happy one? Contentment?????

"You're....alright with that?", he had to ask, he had to. Lucifer was clearly just very good at masking his upset.

But the damn angel just smiled?? And it didn't even look fake, just as bright and soft as his normal smiles, albeit a little confused?? Lucifer smiled at him, his brows furrowing in a bit of confused disbelief, as though Alastor is being the weird one here.

"Uhh, yeah??? Why wouldn't I be??? Yeah I may have some feelings for you but its not like you're obligated to feel the same. Above anything else, we're friends first and foremost and i'm alright with that..."

Then he seemed to have reached his own little conclusion as his words trailed off, because suddenly Lucifer's eyes widened in realization of something, and his words picking up with a sense of panicked urgency.

Alastor would really like to know what Lucifer's supposed realization was about himself because he had absolutely no clue.

"I mean, we ARE still friends right?? I don't- I- I hope this doesn't like- change your opinion of me. You're not- oh gosh I'm not making you uncomfortable am I? I- I won't mention it! You can even forget this whole confession ever happened! We can just go on as before! I don't feel any different or would act any different! Honest! I mean, I don't regret confessing because you deserve to know and I'm not ashamed of my feelings, but I don't want you to be uncomfortable! It doesn't change the way i'll treat you! Or change any aspect of our relationship! I don't even think I like you more as a lover than as a friend! I really, really do love our friendship, it matters more to me than any thoughts of being in a romantic relationship with you! So please just forget it all-"

Alastor let the word vomit wash over him, every word leaving him more confused by the minute.

Because yes, there's the desperation he expected, but...it was more about, convincing Alastor to remain friends?? Reassuring Alastor that nothing has to change?? That their friendship is the most important thing here??

(If anyone asks, no Alastor's heart didn't swell. Only lesser beings would have had the urge to cry, and Alastor is anything but.)

Lucifer is unknowingly reassuring Alastor of every single one of his insecurities about the situation. Because Alastor DID want to remain friends, he cared too much about the man to let it go so easily. It was rare to find people who treasure friendships above romantic relationships.

"I don't tend to forget easily, nor will I forget this one in particular.", he spoke, finally finding his voice. At Lucifer's defeated, pained expression( is their friendship really that important to him?), he continued. "But....yes. I'd like that.. To remain...friends."

He didn't often say the word out loud, being comfortable enough with each other that it need not be reassured with the label. But with Lucifer brightening up like his namesake, relief and happiness palpable, Alastor felt no qualms at declaring their friendship out loud.

So life went on as usual. True to his word, Lucifer remained basically the same. The following weeks were a bit stilted for Alastor, as he put some rather painful distance between him and the angel; limiting their interactions, their usual touches.

Anytime now, Lucifer would break and show his true colors, Alastor would think, waiting for the boot to drop. Lucifer would end up angry, and dissatisfied, and that was that.

But it never happened. Lucifer never expressed discomfort when Alastor avoided him, seeming to be understanding of the others need for space. He was just as affectionate as before, though initially a bit held back, as though gauging Alastor's comfort.

Months would pass, and the king never faltered. Their friendship remained strong, if not growing ever closer than before. Alastor found himself even growing more comfortable with the man. Affectionate touches were becoming common, hugs and head pats and cuddles being a welcome thing, with the reassurance that the shorter king would never disrespect his boundaries.

Lucifer seemed genuinely happy about it, despite being clearly told that none of Alastor's actions hinted at anything romantic. In fact, he seemed ecstatic that Alastor was getting more affectionate towards him as a friend. The embarrassment the radio demon felt at having Lucifer basically tear up (no really, he was crying so hard, full on drama sobbing) with joy in front of him was intertwined with the sheer incredulous fondness he felt for the man at that moment.

They were sitting at a couch one night, more than a year passing since that confession. Lucifer was leaning back, resting against the cushions, while Alastor had his head on the smaller one's shoulder, nuzzling at the crook of his neck, legs tucked close to his body. Both had a book in hand, two nearly empty cups of tea on the table in front of them. Every so often, Lucifer would flex his fingers that rested on Alastor's head, running a digit against the other's ear, often prompting the demon to lean into the touch. White wings enveloped the two, blanketing them against the chill of the night.

As Alastor turned the page of his own book, relaxing into the touch of his dearest friend, he wondered how he ever got so lucky in hell.

#this may have gotten away from me lmao #this was supposed to be a rlly short prompt of 'Unrequited love but overbrimming friendship' but instead i typed out this word vomit-#i don't know if im labeling things right here??? this may not look platonic tk others but ig im sort of projecting here #bc i want friendships like this soo badd. i mean this is still platonic right??? this is normal friendship behavior like come onnn #I've been teased about being ace bc of this mindset but i always just go RIGHT this is how friendship works y'all blind😭😭😭#bloopnik writing #bloopnik rambles #radioapple #appleradio #platonic radioapple #platonic relationships #aroace alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #duckiedeer #unrequited feelings #BUT NOT UNREQUITED LOVE HELL YEA #one sided radiostatic #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel #THEY LOVE EACH OTHER SO MUCH AND ITS BEAUTIFUL #queerplatonic #i think #fic #fanfic #radiosilence

417 notes · View notes

whywhatswrongwithblue · 3 months

Text

DOCTOR WHO | 1.04

#*mine #dw rewatch: s1 #dwgifs #dwedit #timelordgifs #userveronika #userhayao #userood #usertom #usertennant #rose tyler #ninth doctor #flashing gif #ninerose #nine x rose #timepetals #rose teases him so much it’s criminally underrated in fic

428 notes · View notes

weaver-z · 10 months

Text

"Haha yeah one of the scenes we cut was a lesbian AzCrow interaction in the 1960's." Oh, so you expect me not to write feverishly about this premise? You expect me not to write a five-part murder mystery set in Las Vegas in 1967? Jail for Amazon Prime for 1000 years.

#good omens #ineffable wives #azcrow #aziraphale #anthony j crowley #teasing my new fic

1K notes · View notes

little-pondhead · 6 months

Text

Danny moved to Gotham.

Freakshow is touring in Gotham.

Freakshow knows Danny is in Gotham.

Danny knows Freakshow is still after him.

Danny's faith in heroes has been shattered.

Danny turns to the only person powerful enough to run Freakshow out of town, hopefully for good.

Danny turns to the Joker for help.

The Joker is looking for a new punching bag sidekick after Harley Quinn left him.

Danny is just the perfect person to be shaped by the Joker's hands.

Danny becomes the new Joker Junior.

#pondhead blurbs #dpxdc #how we feeling about this fellas #i think it's an ideal angst fic #but i don't wanna write it lol #the younger danny is the worse it gets #someone said that danny shouldn't be afraid of the joker because he's a clown and freakshow is a ringmaster. not a clown #if i find that post i'll tag the creator cause i can't remember rn #but i'm imagining danny who is heavily traumatized and scared and lonely #finding out that one of his worst enemies he hoped to never see again is hunting him and is so close danny has to check his eyes every day #just to make sure they haven't turned red #his anxiety is out of control and he's not about to go find a Bat or Bird to talk to #who would believe him anyways? he's a monster #but danny needs help cause he will not survive this on his own and he knows it #freakshow haunts his every waking dream #but freakshow isn't from gotham. he doesn't have the city's curses engraved into his blood. he never died and he's not truly teasing death #so danny chooses to plead for help from the only predator bigger than freakshow (in his eyes) who IS from gotham #danny goes to the Joker. prepared to offer everything but his free will and free mind. he can't give those up. it's all he has.#danny is a feral house cat asking a tiger to take care of a mountain lion for him by offering the tiger his own liver on a silver platter #joker is...delighted? maybe? no one is quite sure. but he takes what danny offers.#here is this little boy. almost the same age as the second robin when he died. pleading for the JOKER to be his savior. this will be fun

499 notes · View notes

mardyart · 1 year

Text

papas are teaching italian to ghouls

#happy priDEMONth to them all #terzo….. my little gay papa #something something sodo teasing the shit outta the new ghoul because i read a fic about them #they were Very Good friends in it #the band ghost #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #papa emeritus iv #copia #nameless ghouls #phantom #dewdrop #sodo #the band ghost fanart #ghost fanart

2K notes · View notes

elvensorceress · 2 months

Text

not quite tuesday tidbit teases

it's probably tuesday somewhere and this just popped in my head and I wanted to share. what do you think? do we want more?

tagging if any of you want to share something 😘 @hippolotamus @eddiebabygirldiaz @messyhairdiaz @rainbow-nerdss @tizniz @spotsandsocks @daffi-990 @monsterrae1 @diazsdimples @watchyourbuck @wh0re-behavi0r @911onabc @chaosandwolves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rogerzsteven @epicbuddieficrecs @bekkachaos @fiona-fififi @wikiangela @exhuastedpigeon @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @lover-of-mine @mikereads @jesuiscenseedormir @lemonzestywrites 💕

It’s just after midnight and Buck is going to bed.

He’s been saying this for a couple hours but YouTube had too many AItA videos and Instagram had those gorgeously edited food recipe posts and he doesn’t even want to talk about the doomscrolling of TikTok. But he had a day off and it was supposed to be with Tommy so they could take the weekend and go somewhere fun and romantic, but then Tommy had to work. Buck could’ve gone in with the rest of A shift. But it was nice to have some alone time for himself so he took time for himself.

His phone goes off with a call five seconds after he’s gotten into bed. It’s a number he doesn’t know. So he could ignore it. Or wait until they’ve left a message. But who would call at this hour for no reason? Or for scamming, telemarketing reasons?

So Buck answers.

“Buckley?” The man on the other end says. He sounds vaguely familiar but not enough that Buck came put a name or face with a voice.

“Uh, yeah? Who is this?”

“Mehta. Captain Mehta. Of the 133.”

“Oh, hey,” Buck says, automatically friendly and smiling. That makes sense now. “What’s up? Why the— why are you calling?” Why would he call in the middle of the night?

Why does anyone call in the middle of the night.

“Buckley,” he says and it sounds… it sounds… it sounds like…

They have him now. They’ll take care of him. Why don’t we get you cleaned up. He’s in good hands. They’ll rush him to surgery. You don’t have to worry. Let’s get you cleaned up.

Lets get you cleaned up.

Buck can’t breathe. His whole body is cold. Frozen.

He tries to get out of bed. He tries, but just slides to the floor beside it. He doesn’t make it any further.

“Buckley, there was a helicopter crash. Your team, our team we went to rescue the pilot. Your, uh, sorry, I don’t know what you call him, but your boyfriend? Life partner? He—”

Oh god. No. No, that’s not. That’s not happening. That is not what is happening right now. This can’t be a, Tommy is dead and I’m letting you know. It can’t be that. It’s not. They were going to—

They were supposed to have a romantic trip together. Wine tasting and some kind of museum Tommy thought Buck would love and maybe a visit to a hot springs up north and they were going to watch the sunset and the sunrise and—

And he can’t be dead. He can’t be.

“He’s alive,” Mehta says. “We’re at Cedars-Sinai. He’s alive, but. It doesn’t look good. He’s in the ICU now. He’s critical.”

Buck pushes himself up. Has to. He has to be there.

He barely remembers to thank Mehta or even end the call before he switches off his phone and runs out the door.

The drive is a blur. The drive is probably very illegal and he doesn’t know how he doesn’t crash, but he doesn’t have time to wait for an Uber or for anyone else. He runs as fast as possible to the ER lobby, and almost runs directly into Chimney.

Not almost. Buck crashes into him and almost knocks them both to the floor but that almost actually is an almost because Chim somehow steadies them both.

He’s pale. Shaken up. His eyes are red. He’s been crying.

“Chim,” Buck says as broken as he feels. “Chim, where— where is he? What happened? How did this happen? Please tell me he’s okay. He can’t be dying, right? That can’t be happening?”

Chim opens his mouth and grips Buck’s arms tighter, still trying to steady him. “Buck, we— we don’t know yet. It was bad, but he’s tough. You know that. He could be fine.”

Buck lets out a broken whimper and backs away from him. “No. He is fine. He’s fine and this isn’t happening. I just— Chim, I just found him. I can’t lose him already.”

There’s a flash of something on Chimney’s face but there’s movement around Buck, too. Other people. Bobby, he’s pretty sure. And Hen. They would be here. They would try to comfort him. But they don’t need to because it’s fine. Everything is fine and this isn’t happening.

It can’t be happening.

He can’t be dying.

There’s more movement and it’s all blurry, probably filtered through tears, but then everything stops. The world stops.

Tommy is right in front of him. Whole, alive, real, a little rumpled and there are bloody scratches and bandages on his face and around his arm. But he’s here. He’s fine.

Buck slams into him, throws his arms around him, and sobs as he clutches him.

“Baby,” Tommy says softly as he hugs Buck tightly, cradling him, comforting him, and Buck can breathe. He’s not frozen. Everything is okay. They were all wrong. Buck knew they were wrong. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tommy tells him and holds him tighter.

Buck pulls back just to look at him. “No, it’s okay. You’re okay.” He takes a deep breath and smiles because Tommy is fine. He’s right here and everything is good. Buck touches Tommy’s battered face and caresses him gently. He’s bruised and also pale, and very soggy. It’s been stormy tonight. Another reason why Buck wasn’t all that eager to go out in it. “They told me— fuck, they scared me. I thought— I thought I lost you. I was so scared. I don’t want to lose you. He told me—Mehta, Captain Mehta— he called and told me there was a helicopter crash and my boyfriend was in the ICU and he’s critical and it didn’t look good, and I can’t— god, I can’t. Tommy, I—”

Tommy’s face isn’t good. It’s pale. Bad. Not smiling. Not relieved. It falls and he can’t even hide the devastation on it. He looks like guilt and death, and his mouth moves but nothing comes out. “Evan,” he finally says, barely says. It’s too quiet, too broken. “Evan…”

No. No, Buck doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want to throw up right now. And he just might. His heart is rabbit speed lightning and his legs don’t exist anymore and there’s an awful blackhole of apocalyptic world-ending destruction swirling and growing in his stomach.

Someone takes his arm. Someone needs his attention. He’s moved from Tommy’s arms because there is no safety or comfort anymore. There’s no relief. There’s no happily ever after, nothing will ever be okay.

Buck knows why Mehta said what he said. He knows who isn’t here. He knows who would have come to him and immediately comforted him.

He knows.

He knows what this is now. It can’t be that. It can’t. Buck doesn’t know anything.

Hen tells him. She holds his arm and says calmly even if it’s broken. Everything is broken. They’re all broken. “Buck. It’s Eddie.”

No. No, it isn’t. It isn’t that either. Buck really can’t take that. It was bad enough, unimaginable enough the other way. It can’t be this.

He’s already done this. They did this before. More than once. Forty plus feet of cruel earth and a whirling burst of metal and blood all over him.

Eddie’s blood was all over him.

“The helicopter went down and got stuck on the cliffs. He went in so he could pull Tommy out, and we got Tommy out,” Hen tells him, every word a knife stabbing through both of them. All of them.

“He saved me,” Tommy says, quiet and full of regret. “He saved me and went down with it. They thought it was stable enough. It wasn’t. They got him out after. But…”

Buck collapses to his knees on the floor and holds his head in his own hands as if he can somehow hold himself together when there’s no holding himself together.

It’s Eddie.

It’s Eddie it’s Eddie it’s Eddie.

Buck shatters like flimsy glass and sobs in all the pieces that are ripped out of him. What about Chris? What about Abuela? What about Eddie’s parents and sisters and friends and everyone else who loves him?

What about Buck? They can’t be BuckandEddie without Eddie.

“I need to see him,” Buck suddenly says to the closest person who will listen. “I need to be with him. Please. Please.”

There’s arguing that happens. Bobby yells at someone. Hen, Chim, and Tommy stay around him like a protective guard. Until someone finally agrees. He’s not in surgery, they can’t take him to surgery yet. He’s not stable enough. But he’s on a ventilator, life support. They warn him and Buck doesn’t care. He knows how bad these things can be. He’s lived through several.

They give him five minutes.

They’ll have to drag him out with an armed guard if they think Buck will agree to only that. But at least it’s something.

It’s something.

Eddie is mostly covered. Blankets, wires, tubes, IV lines, bandages. He’s paler than all of them. Slightly blue-purple, cyanotic. They tell him a few things but Buck can’t hear them. He just wants to be with Eddie.

Buck sits beside him and rests a shaking hand over Eddie’s hand, under the blankets where it’s trying to be warm. Buck would give anything to keep him warm, and alive.

Eddie needs to stay alive. He needs to.

Buck rests his forehead on the side of the bed near their joined hands. He would say something if he had the capacity to form words and sentences. The only thing in his head right now is, don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.

And that’s probably all he can say. All that really matters.

Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, please, don’t ever leave me.

(read now on AO3)

#tease tidbit tuesday #jenwyn wip #buddie wip #mentions of #bucktommy #but this is me okay lol anything and everything is about buddie #911 #buddie #fic: if i should fall

362 notes · View notes

tripleyeeet · 10 months

Text

IF THOUGHTS COULD TEASE (3)

SUMMARY: At the tiefling party, Astarion uses his Illithid powers to offer you another memory.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,771

WARNINGS: Unresolved sexual tension, heavy petting, Illithid abuse at it's finest. Sort of contains spoilers for Act I?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi, welcome to day three of Haunted Hoedown! The prompt I chose was why do you keep following me? but I used it pretty loosely to be honest, so... whoops?

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The inner parts of the grove are bustling. Filled to the brim with celebratory bodies, everyone’s huddled up in their respective groups, talking amongst themselves over endless sloshes of ale that dizzy your brain.

As the bonfire burns, you and the rest of your group glance around with interest. On either side of the party, merchants stand alongside tables of trinkets, grinning and guiding heavy pockets to their nicest wares, while, in the centre, a group of bards play joyous songs, singing along with a group that glides around in circles, dancing in patterned steps that onlookers like you can't help but watch.

“Gods, it’s such a rarity.” Pulling your attention from the dancers, Astarion sips a bottle of wine, turning to face you with a grin. “The whole… heroism thing.”

Narrowing your eyes, you give him a curious look, watching the way his gaze shifts between you and the bards, his lips only extending their excitement. “I guess being helpful has its benefits.”

“Mm, like this free wine.” He nods —takes another long, careful sip, then smacks his lips. “Although, it’s certainly due for improvement. Tastes a bit of vinegar.”

Standing at your other side, Wyll peeks around your frame to look at the both of you; a sudden look of interest filling his features. “True, but who are we to look a gift horse in the mouth?”

After speaking, he offers Astarion a smug expression. One that the silver-haired elf reciprocates with an eye roll before he steps away, discarding any sort of verbal response in favour of moving further into the depths of the party. As he leaves you can’t help but snort, watching as Wyll chuckles and shakes his head, knowing exactly what he’s done.

“Behave, Wyll. You know he isn’t fond of kindness,” you say, taking a sip of your own bottle. Inside, an amber ale tickles your lips, making you sigh in slight relief as the cool liquid slips down your aching throat.

The battle fought earlier had been rough. An ambush within the goblin camp’s prison had proved tougher than you anticipated, earning yourself a nasty lash to the throat that Shadowheart subsequently healed, still earning yourself a fair bit of bruising.

Hours later, it still aches with every breath. Stinging with each sound that reverberates through your vocal cords as you pause to hear Wyll speak.

“He doesn’t seem to mind your’s though.”

While taking another sip, you raise your brow at his comment, watching the way he merely stares back, waiting for you to clue in. To realize that, despite attempting to hide your ever-growing niceties towards Astarion, it’s somehow become noticeable.

“I’m sorry?”

“Fangs,” he reiterates, pointing towards one of the merchant tables —towards Astarion who’s still chugging his wine as he eyes up some wares. “You’ve gotten close.”

“Have we?” You feel the aching of your throat uprise as you speak. Immediately feeling the pain send you into a fit of coughs, prompting Wyll to scoff.

“You’re not very good at hiding it. Not like he is, anyway.”

As frustrating as it is, you know he’s right. Your deceptions are average at best. In the heat of a tense moment you can lie and cheat no problem but when it comes to Astarion and the way you’ve slowly grown more fond of his presence, it’s difficult to cloak.

Humming in response, you take another sip of ale, hoping to wash away the pain before letting out a heavy breath. “I’m not hiding anything.”

“No?”

Offering the same smugness he gave Astarion just moments before, you quickly find yourself pushed to the edge, scrambling to find your footing within a conversation you never anticipated having.

Sure, perhaps over the last few days it had become increasingly obvious that you and Astarion had grown rather close. Opting to choose each other’s company over everyone else’s, you could see the assumption brewing behind curious eyes. During raids, it wasn’t odd to see the two of you working together —you posing as the distraction while he went in for the kill from behind. And while looting, it was common knowledge at this point that the two of you would wander away to look for traps.

But obviously, it was all a symptom of continued happenstance. A build-up of time spent together without even realizing it. You weren’t friends by any means. Yes, you were fond of him in a way but, if anything, it was as if you were coworkers at best, working together when need be but still bickering off the clock.

“I’m only nice to him because he’s nice to me.” It’s a childish answer. One that has Wyll grinning so wide it looks as if he might split in two, making you frown in response.

“I’m just saying,” he says, pausing to raise his hands in innocence, even though he’s anything but. “The two of you seem to be connecting more and more at the hip as of late.”

“What, like you and Gale?” Your tone is uncharacteristically defensive. At least for Wyll. If it were Astarion you were speaking to the elf would hardly bat an eye. More than likely he’d just wave it off —change the subject and forget, but unfortunately, Wyll isn’t like that.

“I didn’t realize you’d noticed,” he says sarcastically, watching the way you huff under your breath, taking one last sip before storming off, too tired to entertain the conversation further.

It’s one thing to be teased by Astarion —with him, it’s practically expected. What with the way his voice carries within a conversation. Regardless of the subject matter, there’s always an inkling of sass in his words. A gentle beratement that often fills you with rage each time you’re at the receiving end of it.

It’s the same feeling you get as you leave Wyll behind. Glaring forward while wandering the party, drinking your way through the outer rim, knowing it’s all futile. Now that Wyll’s seen the side of you that looks at Astarion as anything other than an annoyance, you’re doomed. Fated to hear a constant onslaught of questions and comments about your blooming camaraderie.

As you trade your now empty drink for another, you scan the party until your eyes land on Astarion again, watching him slide up to a particularly tall tiefling who smiles at his presence. The two of them chat for a while, both of them leaning in, appearing more interested the deeper the conversation gets.

It makes you smile seeing him almost happy. Considering that he’s almost always in a sour mood, it’s strange seeing such obvious enjoyment. To see his face light up amidst all the shit you’ve been through over the last few weeks.

The only other time you’d seen him that happy was after he fed. After he tore his teeth from your sensitive flesh; a newfound energy coursing through his veins. The euphoria laced within his features was nothing short of breathtaking, and now that you know him a bit better you’re aware that when he spoke of the moment being a gift, for once he wasn’t lying.

“You know it’s rude to stare, darling.”

You nearly leap at the sound of his voice. Feeling its tone nestle into the crook of your neck, shamefully a soft yelp hurtles from your lips, causing him to laugh just as you turn on your heel. “I’m sorry, can I help you?”

Immediately he shakes his head and brings his wine to his lips, giving it a lengthy taste before licking his lips. “Just came to see what you want. Seeing as you’ve been relentlessly following me around with that little gaze of yours.”

“Have not,” you scoff, a little too quickly. Your eagerness to lie painting your true intentions in the dirt beneath you.

“So your eyes haven’t been looking upon me and that gorgeous tiefling over there?”

As his brow quirks up you find yourself scrambling. Searching through your thoughts for some sort of excuse. Perhaps you could simply say that you’re tired. That the alcohol you’ve consumed has managed to perforate your brain —that you’ve lost all sense of vision as you awkwardly blink and force out a yawn. If the performance is good enough you’re sure you could pull it off…

“Sorry, I’m just a bit tired.”

Somehow still amused, Astarion watches as you replace your words with a drink of ale, gulping down a hefty portion that has him smirking through the edge of his lips. “You know I’m joking, right?”

“Hm?”

“About being rude,” he explains. “In fact I’m happy to welcome all sorts of gazes. The more the merrier, my dear.”

Your face screws into a confusing stare that has him narrowing his eyes, looking back with the kind of interest that has your tadpole slithering back and forth.

It’s been a few days since you last felt it move this much. The last being when you and Shadowheart were communicating during a particularly rowdy fight with some ogres. Back then, all it felt like were a few simple twitches back and forth. A moment of confirmation between two parties before the feeling was erased and you were fit to return to normal. Said moment didn’t take up space within your thoughts. All it was was there and gone in a flash, so for Astarion’s occupancy to feel so different suddenly interests you.

“Is there a reason you’re trying to get inside my head?”

You raise your brow while he shrugs his shoulders, both of you then standing in silence while the party rages on, wondering what will happen if you let him in. What you’ll see once you inevitably give in to curiosity and open the gates.

“There’s always a reason.”

“Care to tell me what that reason is?”

He ponders for a moment, dramatically glancing around the grove before honing his gaze onto the aforementioned tiefling who offers a wave. For a moment, both of them share a look, one that appears almost like a warning before Astarion refocuses on you.

“Isn’t the whole point of these things to show instead of tell?”

He has a point. An unfortunately, stupid and fair point that has you releasing an annoyed breath and nodding your head.

The power of the Illithid, while still greatly unknown to both of you, at base level is just another form of communication. A way to discreetly speak to one another in the form of offered memories.

“Sure, but having an actual conversation works too, you know.”

Astarion scoffs then, taking another sip that has him licking the points of his teeth before running it along the seams of his lips. Overall, the sight is… nice. The way the organ in his mouth glides across the tips of his canines, threatening to spill his own blood before circling out.

Even you have to admit it works in winning you over to some degree.

“Aren’t you enjoying such powers?” As he speaks, he takes a step closer, his base of frame bumping ever so gently into your shoulder as he leans down toward your ear. “Does it not interest you, seeing the world from someone else’s eyes?”

You crane your neck to look at him fully. To see the teasing expression take over and match the tone of his voice —how it ghosts the shell of your ear. Upon impact, it makes your breath catch inside your sore windpipe, threatening a cough you’re quick to suppress by swallowing another sip of ale.

“Because personally, I think it’s well worth the price of discarded conversation,” he continues. “Why bother wasting my time with words you might not understand when I can just push my thoughts into yours?”

At that point, you’re actually confused. Lost in translation just as he predicted. You’re not sure what he means by claiming your lack of understanding but you don’t admit it. Instead, you merely just take a step back, eyeing him with suspicion as you slowly let the creature behind your eye accept his message.

When you do he smiles against the rim of his wine bottle, staring you down with half-open eyes that project the feeling of hands. Soft palms cascading across bare skin.

A violent shiver runs up your spine almost immediately. The air within your lungs once again catches in your throat as your brows knit together, trying to place where the hands are going. At first, it feels like they’re starting at your hip. For a moment, there’s a rough press —a tightened grip that wraps around the bone, filling the space with a bit of pressure before it slides down your thigh, drawing new patterns. But then you feel it on your other thigh too, tiptoeing across the top before it finds purchase at the outer edge.

“What are y—“

Still unaware of the exact intention of the memory, Astarion interrupts your questioning with a simple gesture. An index finger raised to his lips, signalling a silence you reluctantly obey as you feel the hands hold both sides of your thighs, their thumbs ebbing to and fro.

Swallowing hard, you twitch against their movement, pushing your legs together while Astarion watches, his eyes fully immersed in your reactions. The way your face nervously twists once the arrival of hot air cascades between your thighs. How it wafts across your skin like heavy clouds moving through an electrical storm.

The longer it goes on, the more obvious it becomes that he’s amused. That your ongoing discomfort is nothing more than a form of entertainment. A method of his own personal, sadistic torture that has you threatening to sever the connection.

“Oh, don’t be such a puritan,” he says then, clicking his tongue as he moves a step closer to bridge the gap. “I’m just showing you what I plan on doing later tonight.”

“Tonight?”

Before he answers, there’s a kiss placed to your inner knee. A needy smack of lips and teeth that drag upward as you stand.

In response your mouth falls open without you realizing, a soft gasp coming out that makes Astarion snort.

“Yes. Are you hard of hearing or something? Distracted maybe?”

You grit your teeth, trying to withstand every sensation that overtakes you. The way the hands drift and the mouths feed —both of them working in tandem as they travel to the same spot you can feel aching within you.

“It’s alright if you are. I understand. Such feelings can be overwhelming when it’s been a while.”

Breathing through your nose, you watch as he smugly downs the final sips of his bottle. Throwing his head back, he exposes his neck in a way that makes you tighten your lips together, trying your best to remain calm as the hands that fill your mind continue their ascent, eliciting twitching flesh in their wake.

At that point, you know you should call it quits —close the doors and lock them up never to be opened again. But something is stopping you. Something pulsing at the back of your mind, filling you with interest.

It’s always been blatantly obvious that Astarion’s friendship has been nothing more than a ruse. A farce carried out only to keep you close. When he treats you with kindness there’s a hidden agreement that looms in the shadows. An unofficial contract that states his affections will be met with trust. With a loyalty that he’ll more than likely never return.

From the beginning, his intentions have always been ill and you know this. You see it wherever he is —whenever you speak. You can feel its falseness itching your skull each time he touches your skin or calls you pretty names.

It’s what he’s doing now with the Illithid. In the caverns of your mind, he’s showing you the benefits of his allegiance. The potential perks you’ll receive if you’re able to prove your worth, and to put it simply, it’s tempting. And not just for the sake of sex.

Suddenly, there’s a finger that strokes you gently as you stand before him, questioning his authority in the form of a raised brow that’s returned by him discarding the memory.

Once it’s gone you can feel your breath slowly begin to return. Every thought in your head is clearer, not necessarily crystal, but with fewer distractions you can finally see the hefty rise and fall of his chest.

“I hope you have fun with your tiefling,” you say then, letting yourself grin in such a petty way that you see his jaw shift ever so lightly before you turn on your heel and walk towards your tent. -

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjkchk (if you'd like to be added to the taglist fill out this form)

#if thoughts could tease #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

1K notes · View notes

moraxsthrone · 1 year

Text

kaeya alberich is an avid clit slapper, go argue with a wall.

sometimes when he's eating you out, he'll stop and pull away just to give your tiny erection a few quick, hard spanks with his fingers. he lives for the way you whimper as your fists tighten and pull at his cerulean hair. but he always more than makes up for it by gently kissing your clit before sucking it back into his warm, soft mouth again.

at this point, it's basically a habit of his to hold the base of his cock and tap its thick head against your clit before he pushes it inside you. he loves the way it makes you gasp his name. he just gives you a crooked smile and there's a twinkle in his eye as he watches you arch your back for him.

kaeya especially loves pulling out in the middle of fucking you, his swollen cockhead slick with your cream. he moans at the way you cry out for him and the wet smack smack smack when he slaps it against your hard little pearl before gliding his whole dick all the way back inside your clenching hole with a single thrust.

but his personal favorite has to be the times he does it while he cums. he loves to release inside you, but occasionally he'll pull out just so he can slap his ultra-sensitive purple cockhead against your clit while his seed spills out of it. between the good fucking he just gave you and his hot cum squirting against your clit, you're more than likely cumming with him too.

⋆｡°✧❅✧°｡⋆

kaeya m.list

1K notes · View notes

midryss · 3 days

Text

Little Beastie (The Ghoul x Fem Raider Reader NSFW)

Smut with plot PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU'RE A MINOR!

Warnings- Blood play, spanking, rough sex, hair pulling, fingering, p in v, creampie, knife play, addiction, choking, biting, overstimulation, light degrading, night terrors/nightmares

Word count- 10482 Yep it's a long one, you're welcome 😜

Summery-Coming off the chems and trying to turn your life around was a challenge considering you were brought up a raider, but you wanted more out of life. Wanting to escape all the rage and violence, an unlikely alliance with The Ghoul makes you question whether you're truly capable of leaving behind your psychotic tendencies, unless he can tame the beast.

Your lungs burned, muscles screamed, heart thumped hard through the adrenaline but you couldn't stop. Vicious snarls gained quickly on you as the Deathclaw chased you down.

It was just one bad affair after another with you lately. Escaping the clutches of your former raider clan by the skin of your teeth, before foolishly interrupting the dinner of one of the most feared beasts in the wasteland. All in all the past week has been pretty rough, but you were a survivor, determined and resilient.

You swerved and clambered frantically through crumbling buildings in an attempt to lose the beast on your tail. The wounds you had earned just days before from your so called "family" began to weep. There are few who can say they made it out of raider life, mostly because so few wanted to leave at all. It was all they knew after all. Being brought up following their barbaric ways most raider folk never thought twice about the savagery. Like a cult, they had you trapped. Loaded you with chems to keep you high, addicted to the feeling, to all the violence. But as the years went by, you began to refuse the chems and your thoughts became clearer. This isn't the life you wanted.

Of course your attempt at persuading the other raiders to drop the chems fell on deaf ears. You knew it was a matter of time before the "new you" would become another one of their victims. Just another nameless face piled on the bonfire. So in a final "fuck you" to your former clan you destroyed their supply. Making a very narrow escape with only the bare essentials in the process.

Those essentials didn't last long in the blistering heat of the desert. Nor did the ammo you foolishly used up on the Deathclaw you disturbed. Making matters worse you lost the crudely made pipe rifle a while back.

Skidding through the doors of what you can only assume was some sort of office before the bombs fell, you shot a quick glance behind you as the beast pounced.

"Shit!" You dove behind the pile of desks and file cabinets to avoid its clutches. Scanning around the room for something to defend yourself with, your eyes landed on a crate of alcohol at the bottom of a crumbling staircase. You ran for it, bottles clinked together as you used the momentum to pull the crate up to the second floor. Praying for a miracle, you tore rags of cloth from your dusty flannel shirt while scanning the room.

"Thank fuck" you breathed a sigh of relief snatching a little gold lighter off an office desk. Stealing a glimpse out the blown out window, you watched the Deathclaw forcing its way through the surprisingly sturdy walls below you.

"Die, bitch" you mumbled as you dropped your hastily made Molotov's. It let out a furious roar, prying itself back from the wall. Its jaws snapped at you perched at the window above it. You watched it writhe in the flames but to your surprise it wasn't you that killed it, but a powerful gunshot from behind it. You snapped your gaze up to the owner of the gun. A cowboy, clad in dusty worn leather. You tilted your head to the side curiously, squinting for a better look through the rising smoke. He marched over his latest kill through the dying flames and you saw his scarred skin, thick like leather. A Ghoul.

You let your body relax, not at all caring who your saviour was, just that you were alive to tell the tale. Slouching down in a nearby office chair, you rubbed your tired eyes in your palms and released a heavy sigh.

"The fuck do you think you're doin!?"

You didn't bother lifting your head.

What now?

The Ghoul stormed through the office, pure rage written across his marred face. Before you could react, he grabbed you harshly by your tattered shirt and thrust you against the wall.

Confusion was clear in your expression so he explained, frustration and anger laced his voice.

"Been tracking that bounty for days!" His grip on your shirt tightened as you struggled to free yourself "You and your pet just cost me the trail!

"The fuck was I supposed to know!?" You snapped, "I'm just tryna survive."

"Oh Yeah? See if you survive this, Sweetheart!" he brought the muzzle of his pistol to your jaw and you saw red. The psychotic raider in you erupted. Letting out a vicious snarl, you leapt on him like a rabid dog, teeth bared as you defended yourself like a cornered animal.

He didn't shoot. Releasing you from his grip, he brought his now free arm up to protect himself. You clamped your teeth down into the filthy leather of his coat. Initially you were aiming for his neck, not at all deterred by the textured flesh, it's still just skin at the end of the day.

The force of your attack sent him stumbling backwards, seizing the opportunity you hooked your foot around his ankle, forcing him to drop the pistol and catch himself as he collided with the concrete floor. You wasted no time in snatching up the gun and scuttling away leaving him coughing and spluttering. You didn't look back, thinking only of running once again.

You ran clumsily through buildings and across rooftops in an effort to deter The Ghoul from tracking you down. You stole from a bounty hunter after all, you knew he'd be after revenge and his pistol back. Finally you were able to scavenge some resources and re patch your wounds left by your raider buddies. You slowed your pace as you heard sounds of civilization ahead and reflected on the hell of a day you had.

You beat yourself up over that Deathclaw. It could have been so easily avoided had you not been in such a hurry. And that damned Ghoul. Would he really have killed you? Over a bounty!? Surely he could pick up the trail again, it was his job after all.

Through all your wonderings about the Ghoul, a pang of guilt struck you, knowing you had killed for less. Maybe he should have pulled the trigger. Many would say you deserved it for your previous wrongdoings, and you would have to agree.

Shaking your head, you did your best to push the self loathing away. The hardest struggle you faced being clean was the constant guilt, knowing all the shit you've put into the world, when you could have helped rebuild civilization, to create something instead of destroying it.

You focused on the sounds coming from behind a heavily barricaded gate in the middle of the dilapidated concrete jungle. It sounded like a city. You could cry at the thought of being part of a normal community, a small smile crept its way across your quivering lips as you approached the gate earning small nods of greeting from the guards.

With no caps, a stolen pistol and a face that looked like it was dragged through hell, you had no idea where to go from here. Feeling out of your depth in a bustling community of people just trying to survive, you were quickly becoming overwhelmed. Wandering aimlessly you tried to blend in while taking in your surroundings.

Until something caught your eye. A scuffle in the centre of town and a small crowd beginning to gather.

"Fuck off I had him first!" a gravelly voice threatened.

"Like hell you did!" Another replied, equally as angry.

Two men both widely built and decked out in leather armour were about to fight it out over a feeble little man cowering on the ground, his wrists were bound with rope and he’d clearly been beaten more than a few times.

"There's a hell of a bounty up for this piece of shit, I ain't giving up without a fight!"

You froze, wide eyed at the pathetic looking man on the ground.

The bounty

You grinned to yourself, sneaking through the crowd. With enough chaos you could slip the target away and return him to the Ghoul. Strike a deal with him, gain protection while you establish yourself in society, or at least till you get your own weapons and armour.

You slipped an empty bottle from a nearby barrel and launched it at one of the men through the crowd. That did it. Within moments a brawl broke out between the bounty hunters and the crowd. Slipping through the frantic bodies you pulled the target out of the chaos and didn't stop until you were both hidden in a darkened ally.

It didn't take long for the crowd to dissipate as the bounty hunters frantically searched for their prize.

"If you want to keep your balls, come with me!" you hissed as you dragged him by the collar to the patchwork metal walls surrounding the settlement. The boundaries were tall, with barbed wire wrapped around its peak. In a panic you both kicked and tore your way through the most rusted panel available, before scuttling through the tight space.

Hauling your captive from the dust you retraced your steps, running as fast as your weakened muscles could with the weight of the bounty target behind you. It didn't take long for The Ghoul to find you as you stood in the middle of the dusty road, gun to the trembling little man's temple. The Ghoul narrowed his eyes at you, he was pissed.

"Well, look what we have here," he said, surprisingly calm, despite the threatening look in his eye.

"Gonna offer you a deal, Ghoul!" You announced, a slight shake in your voice. You weren't used to bargaining, you hoped you were doing it right.

He tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face. When he didn't respond you continued.

"You get the target and your gun back on one condition"

"...which is?" He asked through gritted teeth, he was growing impatient.

"Take me with you for while"

The threat in his eyes was replaced with amusement as he started to laugh. You scowled, nudging the barrel of the pistol harder into the hostage's temple earning a whimper from him.

“Just until I get on my feet” you were stern but there was no denying you were practically begging for help.

"And what if I refuse, little lady? Better yet, what's stopping me from accepting this deal and just killing you, hm?"

You smirked "honour"

He laughed once more, louder this time, almost sarcastically.

"I'm returning what I took from you and I know you have some decency left in you." he stopped laughing and his harsh glare returned.

"Oh, you don't know shit about me, sweetheart"

"I know you could have shot me earlier, but you didn't" His eyes narrowed. Time was getting on and it was only a matter of time before the other bounty hunters would search outside the settlement.

"Look, other bounty hunters are on their way for this bastard right now. So you can either accept and I tag along, or decline so I can blow this fuckers brains out" You hissed the last bit in the captives ear, an almost evil gleam in your eye letting them both know you would do it and you wouldn't lose any sleep over it.

The Ghoul glanced behind you, searching for the other bounty hunters, frustration clear on his face.

"Not givin me much of a choice, Sweetheart. Fine, you got a deal"

You grinned, proudly. Relief washed over you as you tossed the target and the pistol to the floor at the Ghouls feet.

"Pleasure doin business, Cowboy!"

The Ghoul gagged his prize and tied him with his lasso for good measure before laying down ground rules.

"Now if you try to escape or run or do anythin that makes me think you're plotting, I'm gonna let my pretty little companion here take your eyes, understand" His tone was calm and he spoke with a malicious grin, making his threats that much scarier. The little man sniffled but nodded.

You had journeyed in silence for a while and it was starting to get dark. You were growing chilly as the sun began to fall and your torn shirt did little to protect you from the elements. Of course The Ghoul noticed, he knew you were tired, you were dehydrated, hungry and weak but he didn't stop. He wondered how long it would take for you to give in or just collapse, but you never did. Unknown to him you needed to keep moving. You had to keep your mind focused on something other than getting high. The pain helped, kept you distracted, made you feel something. After so many years on the chems, you forgot what it was like to be anything other than numb, fueled with rage and craving violence. The pain was hell but at least it was real.

Hours passed and finally the Ghoul decided to set up camp. The hostage wasn't in great shape either and The Ghoul needed him alive. You sat by his fire still in silence, getting lost in the flames as your eyes started to feel heavy. Your thoughts snapped to the last family you killed on a raid. Innocent blood spilled because of you and your psycho addiction. The shock shook you awake and you noticed him watching you curiously on the other side of the fire. You rubbed your eyes hard.

"I'll keep watch" You announced, the little man had already passed out and The Ghoul smirked.

"Don't trust me to stick around, Darlin?" You looked at him, it was better than telling him you were plagued by nightmares every time you sleep.

"Would you?" You asked, his smirk turned into a sideways grin.

"Clever girl" He lay back, covering his face with his hat. You were alone with only your thoughts and the crackle of the fire. Doing anything you could to stay awake and distract yourself you paced for a while, before drawing crude pictures in the dust with your knife until eventually your eyes could no longer stay open and you slipped into your nightmares once again.

You woke with a start, tears cut through the grime that painted your cheeks. Your heart raced as you looked around wild eyed, slowly coming back to reality. The sun barely broke over the horizon but The Ghoul was already awake. You caught his glance but you were unable to read him. You stood up suddenly, too embarrassed to look at him, for him to see you like this.

Fuck!

Your muscles were tense, every movement felt like you were tearing yourself apart. But the pain, the reminder that you're alive; that you’re free, was worth it. You hissed as you stretched, feeling his gaze still on you. You tried to ignore him, to compose yourself quickly before kicking the bounty target awake. He was flustered as you dragged him to his feet.

“We need food and water” You said, taking in the state of the hostage who was somehow starting to look worse than you. You heard the ghoul kicking the burned embers of the fire behind you, scattering evidence of the camp.

“So scavenge” He said, as if whatever you do is none of his business.

Raising an eyebrow you ask “think I trust you not to leave?” you cross your arms “Gonna need a guarantee, Cowboy”

He sighed, knowing the hostage would die before making it to the client at this rate. But he already lost too much time.

“Lotta work, you are, woman” He tossed the pistol to you “One mag, that’s all ya gettin. You waste it, it’s your problem.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, holstering the gun in your belt. “I’ll not stray far” you assured him. He didn’t really care but you figured you’d let him know his weapon wouldn’t be too far from his side.

The wasteland was just that, desolate, save for the odd farm house. Not even a pitiful rolemat made itself known. After hours of walking with the distant silhouette of the Ghoul still within sight, you had only picked up scraps. The stimpak was useful and you chewed greedily on some iguana bits which tasted foul but at least it was better than starving. What made you return was the increasing amounts of chems you had picked up. You figured the ghoul would have use for them and the further away from you they were the better.

You forced the deviled eggs down the bounty target's throat, letting him know he’d be dehydrated a while before gagging him once again. You were surprised to see the glee on The Ghouls face when you presented him with the jet and mysterious yellow vials you’d found in the wreckage of one of the farmhouses.

“Well, would ya look at that! Not so useless after all” he didn’t waste any time in gulping the liquid like it was holy water.

“Never seen a chem like that before” you exclaimed

“Lucky ya found it, little lady. Been looking mighty delicious for a while now” He grinned maliciously. The shock was clear on your face, accompanied by a surprising blush. You shook off the strange fluttering feeling his comment gave you.

“Don’t know how long we can go without water” You changed the subject

“Next town’ll have somethin” his mood had improved greatly since taking the medicine. The tension between you lifted slightly, making travelling together much more tolerable for the pair of you. You tried returning his gun but to your surprise he allowed you to keep it.

“Give it back when the job’s done. Might need it till then, an I ain’t protectin ya like some damsel”

Finally after hours of idle banter the next town held promise. You found a new shirt and a jacket with lots of pockets, perfect for scavenging. You filled your jacket with as much as you could carry: food, ammo, more chems and finally…

Water!

You wept at the sight. Purified water, finally! You gulped down your share before catching up with the Ghoul, a spring in your step. Your prisoner's eyes lit up as you approached, a canteen full of clear refreshing water. The Ghoul yanked him back as he lunged for you.

“Now that wasn’t very nice, was it?” you feigned offence before tossing the canteen at him.

The Ghoul raised a brow at you “That it?” you tilted your head at him in question “Thought you were the type to have fun before dishing out rewards” he explained

“Sounds like you want me to tease the poor fucker…Unless you’re the type who likes to watch” You slowly drawled, inching closer to The Ghoul.

“Oh, Darlin, I’m more of a doer than a watcher” he stepped towards you, confidently, almost asserting dominance over you. He was close. Closer than you would normally allow but something about him drew you in. He wasn’t like the raider men. He was harsh, cruel and selfish but there was still some shred of human decency in him just like you said and he was unexpectedly charming. You were curious about him, and you found yourself studying his face properly for the first time. His teasing smile fell as you caught his eyes, the way the sunlight hit them made them look like jewels, they were beautiful in that brief moment until he hardened his gaze.

“You askin to be made a meal of, Woman?” He broke you out of your trance, his tone impatient, defensive even, as if he knew you were searching him.

“N-no!” You finally shoved him away.

You forced the trio to move as long as possible until eventually your hostage collapsed. The Ghoul glared at you.

“If he dies, I’ll sell you to raiders! I’m sure they’d love to have their way with a sweet thing like you”

You scoffed “Try it, they wouldn’t know the right way if it shot them between the eyes” He stopped suddenly, tilting his head in question. You smiled innocently in response, knowing you’d said too much about your predicament and hoping to throw him off. He was clearly curious but he didn’t delve any further. The pair of you set up camp under cover of a department store, barricading the door and window with shelves and pulling old moth-eaten pillows and sleeping bags to the middle of the room. Thunder could be heard from a distance and the air began to feel thick, The Ghoul approached a small crack in the window.

“Betcha glad we stopped when we did, darlin” He shot you a “told you so” look and you narrowed your eyes at him as you lit the small candles around the room.

“Radstorm?” you asked, he nodded

Time passed in silence as you both got comfy in the sleeping bag pile. You normally enjoyed the blissful silence but this time it was almost awkward.

“So what’d he do to get a bounty on him?” You asked suddenly. The Ghoul turned his gaze from the chems he was organising to you.

“Mean to tell me you’ve been followin me round like a puppy for a bounty an’ ya don’t even know what he did?”

You thought for a moment “yup”

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief “You’re a strange little thing ain't ya?”

“I never said I wanted the bounty by the way. But since we’re on the topic, what do you say to splitting it?” He laughed at your confidence and the radstorm outside rattled the boards on the windows.

“Ya lost me the target to start with, cost me time, stole my gun, used my ammo, made the target collapse from exhaustion and you got the balls to ask for a cut? Lucky you’re still breathin, Sweetheart!” he was amused as he called you out on your mishaps and you returned his tone with a small smile.

“I also kept both you and your target alive, remember!”

He scoffed “Fact of the matter is, I don’t owe you shit, Princess. You travel with me under my terms. Don’t like it, then leave” he spat almost daring you to leave. You crossed your arms in a dramatic huff.

“Don’t get bratty now, you chose this” he began devouring the yellow liquid from one of his vials before taking a hit of jet. You watched hungrily, his eyes fluttered closed as he breathed out a satisfied sigh. You couldn’t deny you craved the high he was on. He caught the look in your eye and the slight shine on your lips from where you had unknowingly licked them.

“Dangerous to look at a man like that, sweetheart” he teased. You blinked hard, a light blush dusting your cheeks as you avoided his gaze.

“It’s not…I mean…I wasn’t…nevermind” you trailed off, finding the seams of the sleeping bag you were on suddenly very interesting.

The little red inhaler landed suddenly beside you. You looked at him wide eyed, shocked at his generosity.

“All you gotta do is ask, princess” you picked it up with slightly shaky fingers.

“Oh…Um, thanks…but I, uh don’t…anymore” you were almost embarrassed to say you were clean, it must seem like such a trivial thing to a ghoul.

“Oh…” He realised but said nothing more as you handed it back. He shoved it as well as the assortment of other chems back in his pack to help you avoid temptation. You were surprised at the respect he showed and you smiled at him in thanks. Thoughts about teasing him crossed your mind but you refrained, revelling in the moment of genuineness.

He scanned the room before his eyes landed on scattered bottles in the corner, he let out a long whistle.

He gestured towards the bottles asking if you drank, you thought for a moment before nodding. It had been a while since you drank but you figured you deserved some reward after the shit show that had unfolded recently.

You both shared a bottle of old whisky. It burned your throat and you coughed at its foul taste, but you gradually warmed up to it as the radstorm grew louder. You chatted for a while as you carved a little chunk of wood with your hunting knife. He lectured you on whisky as most old men do but it led you to wonder.

“How old are you?” the effect of the alcohol started to set in as you began to feel fuzzy and more carefree.

He glared at you for interrupting him “How’d you end up with raiders?” he snapped back as if to say I don't ask you questions so don't ask me. You sat up, frowning at him realising you weren’t as sneaky as you thought.

“They were my clan,” you admitted after a moment before falling back onto the soft sleeping bags.

After a short silence he mumbled “Over two hundred, don’t know exactly”

“Woah!” You snapped your head to look at him, “so…you were there when the bombs dropped?” you asked eagerly.

“So this clan of yours, everyone inbred? or just you?” he returned your gaze with narrowed eyes letting you know he wasn’t comfortable with the personal questions.

“Cheeky fucker!” you launched the bottle of whisky, it landed on the concrete behind him with a smash.

“Now, now, princess. Don’t make me punish you for being a brat” The way he spoke in that low gravelly tone mixed with your now tipsy state made your heart beat quicken with excitement. He noticed the way you flustered and he chuckled “How’d a raider end up as innocent as you? Squirming like a virgin” he teased. Your blush deepened. Although you weren’t technically a virgin, your only experience had left you woefully disappointed and you never bothered with sex again afterwards.

“Ain’t drunk enough to discuss this” you admitted stumbling over the passed out captive to the other bottles rolling around behind the tills.

“Come on, princess, indulge an old ghoul”

You bit your lip and grabbed the biggest bottle of vodka on the bench.

“Fine, what do you wanna know?” You asked, removing your jacket and making yourself comfy beside him.

“These raiders of yours…they make you feel good?”

You took a big swig from the bottle before passing it to him. Shaking your head you asked naively “Should he have?” He looked at you, his eyes widened slightly.

“Oh, oh darlin, you poor thing”

“Don’t patronise me, asshole!” You glared in embarrassment but also curious to learn more you continued “Just…answer the question”

He loved watching you get hot and bothered, loved teasing you and your lack of experience.

“Course he’s supposed to make you feel good!” He answered as if it were obvious.

You took another swig getting lost in your thoughts, wondering if you even knew what sex was anymore. What else had you missed out on?

“How long did it last?” he continued

“Not long, like a few minutes maybe. Prolly a good thing considering how bad it was” You found yourself laughing along with him. It was nice having someone to confide in, even if he was teasing you.

“Well, you’ll get no judgement from me, Princess. All you gotta do is ask” he said with a charming smile.

“Thanks, Cowboy…so, that lasso see much use?” you gestured to the rope tied round the snoring bounty target.

He raised a brow “might be a bit too advanced for you, dontcha think?”

“Not for that, dumbass! I meant in fights, bounty hunting, that sort of thing” He laughed.

“It has its uses” he caught your curious gaze, pulling your face by the chin with his fingers, firmly but not too aggressive. “And yes it can be used on misbehaving brats” you gulped as the fluttering feeling returned. The urge to lean in, the urge to feel his lips against yours grew. Maybe it was the alcohol clouding your judgement or maybe his words just made you that excited.

He grinned, knowing he could have you so easily if he wanted, but he was a patient man and he loved the game “Get some sleep, Princess, you’re exhausted” he removed his hand and leaned back against the sleeping bags as you crawled back to your spot opposite him. You didn’t want to sleep, worried about the horrors you’ll see but at the same time, he was right and you didn’t want to be a burden. Accepting the fact The Ghoul would have to face your whimpering and cries in the night you fell into another restless sleep.

You were back home, at your settlement with your clan. Fellow raiders were laughing by the fire, sparring, getting high or fucking. But a deep rich red began leaking through the walls, flooding the settlement fast. You ran for the doors while everyone around you paid no mind to the flood or you. You moved so slow, frustration caused tears to roll down your cheeks and the gates were forever out of your reach no matter how hard you tried to run. The liquid rose up higher until eventually you could taste it, it spilled into your throat, the familiar metallic taste.

Blood

You thrashed around wildly, panic took over and suddenly brightness blinded you.

You blinked through the sudden white light of dawn. The Ghoul was on top of you, pinning your wrists beside your head, his chest heaved like he’d just been fighting, blood splattered across his chest. You relaxed under him, not realising how tense your body was and you heard a clink of metal hit the ground as your grip on the knife eased.

You were both speechless, so many questions whirled through your mind and finally the metallic taste hit you.

Fuck that familiar taste of blood, of victory. You were ashamed at how much you loved it, how much you still craved violence. You thought it was the chems at first but this feeling, this primal urge to slaughter…maybe it was just you. A raider, a criminal.

He tilted his head at your slight smile. He was utterly confused by you, enthralled almost as you lay beneath him, dishevelled, breathing heavily, coated in sweat, his blood staining your plump lips.

“Fuck” he hissed as he leaned in, unable to resist the urge to taste himself he slowly dragged his tongue across your bottom lip. Your mind spun, still dazed from your night terror, not yet completely aware of what happened.

He pulled away, releasing his grip on your wrists “lotta fuckin work you are, princess”

You felt the weight of him lift as he made his way to the quivering target who had been watching in horror at the animalistic transformation you went through in your sleep. Lifting your body from the ground you winced at the stiffness in your limbs. You licked the spit he left behind from your lips and rubbed your eyes trying to gather your thoughts.

“What happened?” You asked as he began dragging the makeshift barricades from the door.

“You tell me, darlin. Been restless all night, cryin and thrashin round like a caged animal” He pulled the shelves down, a cloud of dust enveloped you as you stood to help him.

“But this” he gestured to the bleeding gash across his chest “this was a result of waking a damn beast” He grinned as you blushed from embarrassment. “Shoulda known better than to wake you” He jested as if it were nothing.

“I ain’t a beast…least I’m tryin not to be.” You followed him into the light of the morning sun, shielding your eyes.

“Making backwards progress there, sweetheart. Wasteland turns people to killers, not the other way round”

“Just tired of destroyin things, y’know. Tired of bein a raider…” you trailed off not really sure how to explain your feelings. Spending so many years swallowed by anger, you weren’t sure how to express yourself any other way.

“Not what it looked like to me” he scoffed “the way you licked my blood, smilin all the while mind you. Looked damn near feral to me.”

You were glad his eyes were focused elsewhere as you lowered your head, knowing you should feel ashamed but something in his tone made you almost proud, like he was complimenting you. You bit your lip as the jumbled images in your mind started to slot into place. The way you pounced on him, knife in hand when he woke you, the adrenaline rushing through you as you straddled him, slashing as if your life depended on it. The taste of his warm blood on the knife. The worst part is, had he not flipped you both over and pinned you to the ground, you would have licked the wound.

“Sorry, I cut you, cowboy”

He laughed “The fuck you apologisin for? Lemme tell ya, not much surprises me anymore, but you…” he turned to look at you “you keep me on my toes, beastie”

You frowned at his new nickname “Y’know beastie’s not your best one”

He shrugged “Suits you more than Princess”

You rolled your eyes, but wondered if you would ever tell him your name, whether it would even be worth it. You didn’t plan on travelling with The Ghoul for long so names were never a priority, and he felt the same. The sense of anonymity felt like protection, like if all else failed at least you were never tied to one another.

You continued your routine of scavenging, while The Ghoul marched ahead, only this time he gave you his pack.

“Fill it with all the chems and valuables you find” He ordered, you weren’t really sure what was considered valuable but you did your best, jumping from building to building picking up all sorts of bits and bobs. You felt energised, despite the nightmares, a few hours sleep and opening up a bit more to The Ghoul had helped lift a heavy weight off your shoulders.

He waited for you with the target by the tall wire gate of your final destination. He let out a long whistle upon seeing his full pack.

“Hooo, now that’s what I like to see!”

“Me or the pack?” you teased

“Both, sweetheart” you smiled, enjoying the new dynamic between you. He was no longer as harsh with you and you had relaxed a little more around him.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Now we take the payment”

You followed behind him as he strolled through the gates, tugging on the lasso that kept the bounty target close. The familiar sound of his spurs faded into the sound of the settlement. It seemed smaller than the previous one yet somehow busier, The Ghoul watched as your eyes widened and your jaw dropped.

“Wow!” you whispered in awe. Farmers had stalls set up in the middle of the dusty road, selling various produce, brahmin and travelling merchants wandered the street to trade, lights hung from building to building and purified water poured from pumps in the ground. He noticed you drifting away from him, getting caught up in the chaos so he clamped his hand on your shoulder and brought you back to his side.

“Careful, Beastie. Don’t want you getting overwhelmed” he whispered. The nature of your condition was unpredictable, recalling the same feeling you had the day you met The Ghoul, biting him in a defensive frenzy. The Ghoul took to calling it feral, neither of you really understood it yet, but the last thing either of you wanted was to be exiled. Particularly as this was one of few settlements that accepted ghouls.

“Maybe we need a safe word” You suggested, sticking close to his side but still looking around wildly, taking as much of the hustle and bustle in as you could.

“You fucked once and think you’re an expert, huh?” he teased

“Not everything is about sex, Ghoul!” you sighed.

You strolled through the town, finally reaching an old police station in a quieter part of town. He took the lead and you watched as he spoke with a man in the biggest suit of armour you’d ever seen. You hadn’t noticed your jaw drop till The Ghoul pressed his index finger to your chin and pushed it back up. You had never seen power armour up close, knowing better than to face an enemy with such strong defences. It was so much bigger than you expected, and intimidating too.

The man in the armour completely ignored you as he opened a safe on the wall behind him and presented The Ghoul with a bag of caps. In return The ghoul released the target from his Lasso and shoved him towards the man in the armour.

The Ghoul tipped his hat to him and gestured for you to follow.

“Think you deserve a reward, Darlin. Whaddya say?” Your eyes lit up.

“Can I get a gun? Oh! And some armour? And can we get some food, I’m starving!” you rambled in your excitement, wanting to see and experience everything and to your surprise, he let you.

“Hold your horses there, sweetheart, one step at a time.”

You followed him through town noticing the locals giving the pair of you a little more space than everyone else, some cast scowls and muttered cruel words under their breath as you passed by. The Ghoul didn’t seem phased by the obvious resentment people had for him. Feeling suddenly defensive you glared back at those who cast you intimidating looks.

“Easy there, Beastie” The Ghoul caught onto your silent threats and guided you towards a very questionable looking bar. The lights flickered above the door which was shoddily patched together after what you can only assume was many years of bar fights. The windows were smashed in and the walls were riddles with bullet holes.

“Just like home” you mumbled as you followed him to the bar, he laughed at your pessimism.

“Don’t be picky now, Princess” he warned as he gestured with his hand to the Mr Handy behind the bar for two drinks.

“You a regular or somethin?” you asked, scanning the building, pleasantly surprised to see the roof still on tact. There were few patrons, but none paid The Ghoul any mind. You on the other hand were new. Those who weren't passed out, watched you closely with your Cowboy companion. You shot them warning glares, as they eyed you up and down.

“Somethin like that” he followed your gaze “As much as I’d love to watch you go feral on them, I'd like a drink first” The cowboy passed you an unlabeled bottle, you assumed it was whisky, the burn in your throat was familiar.

“I knew you liked to watch, you freak” you joked as you slouched against the bar. His confidence in your ability to fight eased your mind and you found yourself starting to relax.

“Careful, Beastie” he grinned “they're no match for you but I'm a whole different monster” his tone darkened as he tested you.

“Oh really?“ you took the bait with a smirk “You sayin I can't handle you, Cowboy?“

He scoffed, “Darlin, I would break you, and you know it” he turned to see you biting your lip gently, squirming in the bar stool, avoiding his gaze. He chuckled, before tossing a handful of caps at the Mr Handy barkeep and paying for a couple of rooms for the night. You took another mouthful of the liquid fire and grimaced before taking your room key “Gonna get cleaned up” You slid your bottle closer to your companion, hinting for him to keep if safe for you before hopping off the barstool.

“Mind the peeping toms” he called as you made your way upstairs, you laughed in response hoping he was joking.

Your room was small and underwhelming. Only a bed, bath and small chest of drawers which were barely standing occupied the space, but at least it was clean and had running water. It was more than you had as a raider, there was even a little bar of soap. You rummaged through the drawers as you let the bath fill with water, hoping to find some towels or spare clothes but you found only bedsheets.

“It’ll do” you mumbled, shaking the dust from the sheet. You began undressing, tossing the discarded clothes into a bucket to clean as you soaked. The water was cold but you didn’t mind, the contrast against the sweltering wasteland heat was pleasant. You let out a long sigh as you submerged yourself in the tub, feeling content for the first time in a long while. Strange, in such a short time you and the ghoul had warmed to each other more than you had expected. You were reminded of his teasing at the store as you drank together.

All you gotta do is ask

You were embarrassed at how easily you opened up to him, and how curious you were. You had made it clear how clueless you were about sex, you scarcely even pleasured yourself, making you wonder how much you had missed out on. The foreign tingling feeling in your belly returned as you remembered waking from your nightmare, straddling him and the way his blood tasted on your knife. You shuddered as your hands drifted over your body under the water. Not really sure where to touch, you closed your eyes, imagining what The Ghoul might do. His textured flesh would feel every inch of you with confidence, every touch would have a purpose, a reason, he would start with your breasts, groping and pulling your nipples until you whined then he would work his way down…

A slight scratching noise made you pause, snapping your eyes open. You listened hard hearing the faint sounds of the town outside before it happened again.

Mind the peeping toms

You glared daggers at the wall where the scratching came from. The wallpaper was peeling and small cracks and bullet holes painted the length of it. Grabbing the bed sheet you wrapped it around your naked form and took your knife from the bed, listening as the scratching stopped. It was probably nothing, it could have been a cat or something in the walls but you didn't want to take the chance. Turning your back to the wall, you slowly began removing the sheet as seductively as possible until the scratching came back, vigorously.

“Fucking creep!” You shrieked, covering yourself with the sheet once again before plunging your knife into the wall. It was flimsier than you expected, just a thin layer of rotting wood which your knife sliced through with ease. You heard a surprised yelp and the creep scruffle away but you weren’t satisfied. The feral rage built up inside you again as you tore your way through the wall, the sheet barely providing coverage as the water from your body seeped through. He was startled, caught with his buckle un done, his jeans barely pulled up as he tried to dash for the door but you were faster, plunging your knife into his shoulder as you dragged him to the floor, releasing all your rage in a frenzy of knife slashes and unhinged verbal abuse. Everything became a blur and you didn’t even notice The Ghoul until you were being dragged, kicking and screaming away from the body.

“I warned ya, beastie” He had one arm tightly wrapped around your waist and the other gripping your knife hand as he lifted you back to your room. He shook the knife from your hand before tossing you onto the bed, pinning you to the mattress. He waited as you thrashed under him for you to tire yourself out. He smirked as the bed sheet now drenched in blood twisted around you, just barely covering your nipples as your arms were pinned above your head. You were panting heavily, growing weak from fighting against the Ghoul and your vision started to become clearer.

“There you are, Princess” he cooed as you came back to your senses. You began to relax under him, licking the blood from your lips, he groaned as he watched you, never releasing his grip from your wrists.

“Did you know” You started, through heavy breaths “You taste different to other men” he chuckled as you continued to surprise him.

“That so? How’d he taste compared to me, Beastie?”

“Disgusting!” You didn’t hesitate, showing revolution in your expression. His confident grin made your belly tingle again and he released your wrists from his grip, gliding his gloved fingers down your arms. You shivered at his touch

“You weren’t by any chance teasing that peeping tom, were you? After all I did warn you.”

You blushed and turned your face away from his fiery gaze, remembering the filthy thoughts you had of the Ghoul as you touched yourself, knowing a stranger was getting off on it.

“Didn’t think you were serious” you pouted, he brought his gloved fingers to your chin and forced your eyes to meet his. He dragged his thumb across your lips and you responded by bringing your tongue out to meet his thumb, licking the tip of the leather, letting him know how needy you were. It tasted like him, like gunpowder and metal but you craved more, just a few more drops of his blood. Your breathing quickened once more and your eyes had a wild look in them as you resisted the urge to bite

“I told ya, sweetheart. All you gotta do is ask”

He wanted you to beg, to submit to him and you would if it meant tasting him again.

“Can I taste you again?” You asked in a hushed whisper, but he was already removing his gloves.

“On one condition” he brought his now glove free hands to your bare thighs gently pulling your legs apart to fit himself between them. You gasped at his warm touch, his skin just like you imagined, leathery and firm.

“I wanna taste you too, Darlin” You nodded your head in response to his request, desperate for more. You watched as he reached for your knife on the floor and brought it to the palm of his hand with a devious smirk plastered on his face.

“Open wide, my little Beastie”

You obeyed, sticking your tongue out as he sliced the blade down the palm of his hand. Drops of warm crimson liquid landed on your face and tongue. He hovered his hand over your lips for a moment before moving it down your throat to your breasts where your hardened nipples poked through the thin fabric. His blood seeped into the fabric and he watched your chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. He curled his fingers over the thin fabric before searching your eyes for consent. The way you looked at him, pleading with dilated pupils was more than enough for him. The cool air pricked your skin and you squirmed in embarrassment, unable to look at yourself. You couldn't bring yourself to see what he saw, all the scars and bruises, your ribs and collar bones visible from malnourishment and years of addiction. You watched his eyes darken as he groaned at the sight of you.

“Fuck, Darlin, look at you…perfect” you were surprised he praised you so much considering how damaged you felt. He admired your body from above for a moment longer before smearing his blood across your lips and down your throat, leaving his prints all down your chest. His movements were rougher than you expected and you arched your back into his hand as he kneaded your breasts just as you thought he would. You licked the blood from your lips and let out a small moan as he pinched your nipples. It felt so much better when he did it.

Feeling a little braver and wanting him to share in your pleasure you picked the knife up from beside you and glided the blade across your collarbones, inviting him for a taste.

“And to think you were the one calling me a freak. Look at you know, filthy little thing” his tone became almost a growl as he took the knife from you, gently pressing the blade against the soft flesh of your breasts before carefully slicing. You inhaled sharply and flinched away from him but he was quick, only leaving a small cut and the cold sharpness of the blade was quickly replaced by the warm wetness of his tongue. You gasped and panted beneath him, throwing your head back against the mattress as he teased your nipples with his fingers and tongue. Grasping his shoulders you pulled him closer, signalling your want for more. He chuckled against your skin

“So needy”

You moaned in frustration.

“Look at me, Princess” You hesitated but did as he asked, your mouth opened and eyes grew wide at the beautiful sight before you. He was panting, hat tilted slightly casting a perfect shadow across his face. His eyes were overflowing with lust and your blood painted his lips and chin beautifully. He smirked

“Tell me what you want”

“...Y-you” you barely recognised your own voice as it whispered desperately for him.

“C’mon Princess tell me” he drawled as he brought his face up to your neck, nibbling and licking, awaiting your response.

“P-Please, fuck me” you moaned.

“Good girl” he growled before biting your neck, his hat tumbled from his head and onto the floor as his actions became rougher, more impatient. You cried out in pleasure as your body shivered, your grip on his shoulders tightened and you arched your back, desperate to feel more of him.

He attacked your neck with his teeth as his hands grazed your thighs, you spread your legs wider to give him access and he smirked against your blood smeared skin.

Growing tired of his teasing you thrust your hips up to meet his, feeling his hardened cock restricted in his pants. He groaned, thrusting himself against your wet folds again before dragging his fingers down your thigh. He pulled away from your neck to watch your face twist in pleasure as his fingers slid the length of your folds before inserting a finger. You released a long moan as you felt him slowly slide his rough finger in and out.

“fuck, you're so wet, Sweetheart. I turn you on that much?”

All shame abandoned you as you thrust your hips into his hand, all you thought of was him, wanting to feel him, to let him use you.

“y-yes, please…more” you whined, moving your grip from his shoulders to the fabric of his shirt.

“Aww well since you asked so sweetly, Princess” he slid a second finger inside you, stretching you as his movements grew quicker and more forceful.

“fuck!” Your moans bounced off the walls and the tingling feeling in your belly grew. Your body tensed and the grip on his shirt tightened as pleasure soured through your body. You had just barely gotten used to being stretched by his second finger when he suddenly added a third. Your eyes widened and you let out a pleasured gasp at the sudden intrusion. He was growing impatient and his fingers were not as gentle as they once were. Your soaked pussy clenched around his fingers as the pleasure built into something almost overwhelming but to your dismay he pulled out.

“n-no, please… S’too good” you whined desperately, grabbing his arm to guide his hand back to your aching cunt. His touch was intoxicating, everything he did was better than you imagined, you had never felt anything like it and you needed more.

“Oh, Darlin” he loved the effect he had on you, making you drunk on pleasure, knowing he was the only one who made you feel so good. “You cum only when I allow it” his eyes narrowed and his tone was dark, he was so much more intimidating than before but it excited you. He smeared the blood from his palm up your neck and you leaned your head back to allow him access, squeezing gently at the sides of your throat a slight smile graced your lips as you heard his free hand unbuckled his belt. Your arms fell from his shirt as you brought one hand to play with your tits and the other to mimic his movements on your pussy.

“Like it rough, little slut?” he growled as he watched you play with yourself, his grip around your neck tightened as he freed his cock from his pants, stroking the length of it. You couldn't find the words to respond, your thoughts only focused on the heightened pleasure shooting through you.

You wanted so badly to cum, to finally feel release but he wouldn't let you. He roughly grabbed the hand that was stroking your pussy and pinned it above your head.

“Not yet, Princess” he cooed as he brought the hand around your throat to the back of your head. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding your head up to meet his fingers, sticky with your wetness. He traced his thumb across your lips and you brought your tongue out to meet it, moaning at the taste of yourself on his leathery flesh. You hoped his focus was entirely on your face as you crept your fingers back to the wetness of your folds, but he knew. He glared harshly at you for disobeying him. Snatching his thumb from your mouth he pulled you onto your knees hard by the hair.

“I warned you, Darlin, you cum when I allow it” You hissed at the sudden pain in your scalp.

“hands behind your back” you obeyed. “good girl, tongue out” he gave you short orders and after obeying each one he made sure to praise you.

He guided your head down to his cock, saliva dripped from your open mouth, sliding from your tongue onto his cock. He was bigger than the raider but not frighteningly big, and despite the mottled texture of his skin you could still see thick veins. You took the hint and slowly ran your tongue around the tip. He kept you steady by your hair but allowed you to go at your own pace, not wanting to push you too far. After tracing small circles with your tongue you took him gradually into your mouth, gently bobbing your head feeling the base of him with your tongue. He tasted familiar, like his blood there was a distinct metallic taste to his textured flesh and you loved it. You could feel your pussy dripping from anticipation, your fingers intertwined behind your back just like he asked. “atta girl” he groaned as he began to rock his hips back and forth. Feeling a little too confident you tried to take him into your throat but you struggled, frightening yourself as you gagged, he pulled himself from your mouth with a chuckle.

“Too eager, Sweetheart” you looked up at him, tears pricking the corner of your eyes as you pouted.

“You can make it up to me by spreading those perfect legs” you didn't need telling twice. Lying on your back you raised your arms above your head showing him your obedience, waiting for your reward. He slapped his cock against your clit a few times before rubbing it up your soaked cunt, earning an excited moan from you as you thrust your hips up, grinding against him.

“Please…” you begged. It was shameful how much you craved him but you didn't care, your thoughts were focused only on him filling you up, on finally chasing your release.

“such a filthy little slut” he growled as he slid himself inside with almost no resistance. You threw your head back against the mattress once more. An animalistic moan escaped you as he finally filled you up with his fat cock. You were tight but not too tight, gripping him perfectly as he slowly pulled back then slid himself deep inside again, savouring every inch of your pussy squeezing him.

“Fuck! ” he hissed as he picked up the pace. Pleasure rippled through your body, and your jaw hung loose letting out shameless animalistic sounds. You allowed his fingers to invade your mouth, twirling your tongue around them messily, saliva dripping down your chin as you moaned in ecstasy. He kept your gaze locked with his as he pounded into your pussy mercilessly. The grooves of his cock rubbed against your walls and you spread your legs wider inviting him deeper.

“Think you can handle more, Princess?“ he groaned,almost begging to be rougher with you. He slid his fingers from your lips allowing you to moan a breathy “yes” in response. Almost immediately he sat upright on his knees grabbing you tightly by the hips and pulling your body up to meet him with a hard slap. The new angle filled you perfectly as you arched your back to accommodate his length inside you. Your eyes rolled back as waves of pleasure crashed through your body, you grabbed fistfulls of the bedsheet beneath you as your orgasm crept closer with every hard thrust.

“P-please, let me cum” you begged

“Go on, Princess, cum for me” that was all you needed to send you over the edge, you screamed as you drenched him, squirting over the fabric of his shirt. Your body trembled as you pussy tightened around him, squeezing his cock as he continued to thrust into you.

“atta girl“ he praised riding you out of your high before pulling out, you whimpered feeling empty without him but it didn't last long. He dragged you by the ankles to the edge of the bed and flipped you on your front bringing your hips up so you were standing over the rusty bed frame. You were still reeling from your first orgasm, your legs wobbled and you weren't prepared for him sliding forcefully back inside your swollen cunt from behind. You let out a surprised gasp at the new position. He somehow felt bigger, reaching a new depth of your soft cunt which sent sparks of pleasure through you. You arched your back to accommodate his length, throwing your head back, your jaw hung open releasing lewd sounds you didn't even know you could make. His grip around your hips was tight, fingernails dug into your flesh, the pain was perfect, matching the burning pleasure in your gut.

Your legs barely held you up as he fucked you over the bed, overstimulated and almost unable to keep up you moaned incoherently, trying to tell him how good it felt. Your fists clenched the bloodied bed sheets beneath you as you thrust your hips back to meet his. Suddenly he brought his bloodied hand up from your hips and cracked it across your ass cheek with a hard slap. You let out a surprised moan at the sudden pain but found yourself asking for more.

“fuck, you really do like it rough, don't ya?“

“A-ah! Y-yes!“ you whined, bringing your fingers up to stroke your clit. You felt filthy, touching yourself as a Ghoul fucked you but the thought of your controversial behaviour only heightened the pleasure.

“Such a good little slut, you like it when I use you?”

“yessir!” you whined as he thrust hard into you, making sure to fill you up with all of his cock. His hand smacked your ass again, the stinging feeling of the spanking mixed with his dick pounding relentlessly made your body tense up as you felt yourself approaching the edge once more. Unable to keep yourself upright anymore you shoved your face into the bloodied sheets, taking in the metallic taste as your jaw clenched around the fabric. You let out muffled moans as your legs shook violently. He grabbed you by the waist with both hands once again, pulling your ass back to meet his strokes so hard you bounced on his cock over and over until your legs gave out and your cunt clenched around him. He didn't let up, pounding you into the mattress as your body twitched and your muscles gave out. You were exhausted, your pussy was sore, your cum dripped down your legs, drenching his pants and you loved it.

“Knew I’d break ya, Darlin” he laughed, sliding out of your cunt to manoeuvre you. You couldn't respond, your mind was cloudy. You let out a small whimper as he threw your legs back on the bed pulling them together, he straddled your bright red ass cheeks and slid inside you one again. You lay gasping and moaning as he rode you, pleasure spiked all over your body. You felt him everywhere, his hands groping every inch of you, his touch felt electrifying.

“Just a bit longer, Princess, you feel so fuckin good!” he praised and you smiled weakly at his words. Hoping to please him more you brought your arms behind your back. Reaching for your ass cheeks you groped the soft flesh, pulling them apart for him to see himself fucking your pink cunt.

“good fuckin girl” he growled as your cunt squeezed his throbbing cock. He was close, his thrusts became messy and his breathing became heavy.

“F-fuck,” you moaned as the new rhythm sent spasms through your body, another orgasm approached. “please…” you begged, but you couldn't get the words out. You gripped the soft flesh of your ass cheeks harder, stretching your pussy wider, feeling the grooves of his cock abuse you.

“Cum inside” you cried as the last tidal wave of pleasure flooded through you. Your pussy clenched around him as he fucked himself to completion in your wet hole.

“fuck!” he growled, leaning over and biting your shoulder as he pumped his seed deep inside you. You moaned at the blissful pain you felt as your pussy milked his cock. He slowly pulled back leaving just the tip in before pushing his length back inside, forcing his cum deep within your sore cunt until he was satisfied.

He finally released you from his grip, sliding from your abused cunt and tucking himself back in his pants. You hissed at the stinging sensation from his radiated cum and lay completely immobilised on the mattress. Fluids dripped from your folds and down your thighs, blood sweat and saliva covered your body.

“gonna need some radaway” you broke the silence with a weak voice. He collected his hat from the floor with a chuckle before looking over your broken form with pride.

“Maybe a stimpak too,” he suggested. You smiled.

“Mind if I travel with you a while longer, Cowboy?”

He sat on the end of the bed with a chuckle “Stay as long as you want, Beastie.”

189 notes · View notes

virginsexgod69 · 2 months

Note

REQUEST ‼️‼️‼️

I’ve always wanted to read one where the reader is one of Hershel’s daughters (set in season 2). When Daryl and the group show up the reader won’t stop teasing Daryl and eventually he can’t take it anymore. Please make my dreams come true 😭😭🤘. (p.s virgin reader would be +50 points ;)

❝ V-Card ❞

pairing (S2) Daryl Dixon x virgin!fem!Reader

cw loss of virginity, unprotected p in v, lowkey inexperienced daryl, but also not really?, teasing, some pining, daryl kinda being a boob man, reader being a little pervy at times

note i am so sorry i kept you waiting 32 days for this request @mygrandmaschinacabinet, i really hope you like this and thank you for your patience and kind comment on my other post!

p.s. just bc reader is hershel's daughter does not imply anything ab her appearence

~5.k words

Living on a farm that was fairly far from society, it was a given that you wouldn't see good looking guys too often. But being a good looking girl, the guys you didn't want were always the ones after you, and you'd always have to turn them down. When she gets older, she's gonna have to fight off boys with a stick, was something your grandma would often tease your father, Hershel, about. You laughed it off, not paying any mind to it, but boy did she end up being right. You spent a good portion of your high school years rejecting your suitors, none of which were good enough for you, and none of which you really wanted. But when you finally laid eyes on the most beautiful man you've ever seen, he happened to be one who seemed to pay you no attention.

Odd circumstances brought the beautiful man, whom you quickly learned was named Daryl Dixon, to your farm. Otis shot a kid, Hershel took him in to care for, and his dad's group eventually made a home on your father's land. You couldn’t help but ogle at him from your bedroom window whenever you got the chance. The way his biceps flexed whenever he worked with his arms had your virgin pussy aching to be filled by him. He was a man who you’d let do things to you that you’d let no other man before even think he had a chance of doing.

“Not this again,” Maggie complained upon entering your room. You were perched at your window -like you have been since the group first arrived- watching Daryl skin some squirrels. No one could look as good as he did while doing such a grisly task.

“Can you blame me? Jus’ look at him,” you replied dreamily.

“No thanks.”

“Whatever. You have your eye candy, I have mine.”

“Eye candy? What’re you talkin’ about?” She asked defensively.

“Glenn. I’ve seen the way you look at him, like he’s a piece of meat,” you teased.

“Whatever! Do you need anythin’? I’m goin’ out on a run.”

“With Glenn?”

She let out an annoyed huff and exited the room, not awaiting your response. But you didn’t need anything anyway. You went back to watching Daryl. The sweltering Georgia heat caused sweat to drench his sleeveless shirt and drip from his short, dark hair. He looked like he walked out of one of your many wet dreams. Just then, an idea popped into your head. You hurried down to the kitchen and filled a glass with water, cooling it with the scoops of ice you added. Surely this kind deed would put you on his radar.

“Hey, Daryl,” you cheerily greeted as you approached the rugged man. He sat on a stump, now gutting the squirrels he already skinned. He grunted in response, not looking up from his work. Your smile dropped, not that it mattered, considering he wasn’t even looking at you.

“Brought you some water. It’s pretty hot out here and I wouldn’t want ya gettin’ dehydrated,” you said as you held out the cold glass, now dripping with condensation. “Thanks.” He grabbed the glass, his fingers slightly brushing yours, sending a tingling through your spine. He threw his head back, downing the water. A small stream of water dripped down his chin, then his neck, sliding down his shirt no longer in your vision. You squeezed your thighs together. Every little thing he did drove you crazy. You felt like a victorian man who’d just seen a peek of a woman’s ankle whenever you were around Daryl.

“You uh… Ya need somethin’?” He asked when he noticed you haven’t left yet. You froze. You didn’t need anything, but you didn’t want to leave either.

“Jus’ came to check on ya, I guess,” you muttered.

“ ‘M fine?” He tossed the squirrel’s guts into a bucket.

“Well, alright. My work here is done!” You cringed as the words left your mouth. You grabbed the emptied glass and walked back into the house, chastising yourself the entire way. You wanted nothing more than to have him look at you the way other guys do, but he barely give you the time of day.

The glimmer of sunbeams on your face woke you up the next morning. You glanced at the analog clock on your nightstand that read 11:36. You hopped out of bed and eagerly hurried to your window, hoping Daryl would be back from hunting or looking for that little girl or whatever else it was he did when he wasn’t in his usual spot. He was sat on that stump again, but this time he was cleaning his crossbow with that red rag he kept on him. You couldn’t take it anymore, you had to do something. He couldn’t keep getting away with being so hot and so uninterested in you.

You readied yourself in the bathroom, making sure every hair was in place and every tooth was brushed. You debated putting on makeup. You had some leftover from before, but never had a reason to use it, not until now. You layered on some mascara until your lashes looked twice as long and twice as full and coated your lips with some tinted gloss. You stared into your closet debating on what you thought Daryl’d like better. Your tightest, shortest shorts and a nearly see-through tank top.

“What’re doin’ all dolled up like that?” Your younger sister, Beth asked upon entering the kitchen.

“Makin’ lunch for D-,” you stopped yourself, not wanting another sister catching onto your thing for Daryl, “for the group out there.”

“Daddy doesn’t want us wastin’ all our stuff on them,” she protested. You rolled your eyes at her. She could be such a goody-two-shoes sometimes. “What he don’ know won’ hurt him.” You cut a piece of the sandwich you made and handed it to Beth.

“Eat this and keep quiet.”

You assembled the sandwich and a glass of lemonade on a tray and carried it over to his lone camp. He didn’t look at you until you were standing before him holding the tray of food. His eyes slowly made their way up to yours, lingering on your bare legs and exposed cleavage on their way up. You couldn’t help the small smirk that tugged the corners of your mouth at this small victory. He quickly averted his gaze and set his crossbow down.

“Wha’s all this?” He asked, nodding his head toward the tray in your arms.

“Made ya lunch. Figured you’d be hungry after all that huntin’ and searchin’ you been doin’,” you answered as you set down the tray.

“Uh, thanks?” He seemed confused, but grateful nonetheless. “Of course,” you replied with a bright smile before sauntering off, swaying your hips more than usual. Unbeknownst to you, he watched you until the door closed behind you.

In the days that passed, you upped the ante on your teasing. Daryl noticed. At noon almost everyday, you’d bring him lunch in risqué little outfits. Not quite skimpy, but just enough to tease him. And tease him they did. He already was too nervous to look at you, afraid he might scare you off with his gruff nature and lack of experience with women. He’d choose, instead, to catch glimpses of you when you weren’t watching. Like when you’d leave after bringing him something, or when you’d be around doing farm-work or interacting with the other members of his group. But when you started wearing those revealing outfits, it became harder for him to keep from looking at you. But when he made eye contact with you, he became so nervous and shy that he had to look away. You were the sun. He could feel your warmth, even when he couldn’t see you. You were so bright and beautiful that he felt pulled to look at you, but whenever he did, it couldn’t be for long because he’d forcibly look away, your bright smile burning his sensitive retinas.

Speaking of the sun, there you were. “Daryl!” You called as you ran to him. The actual sun glowed behind you, making you look even more like an angel. He was atop one of your horses ready to leave the farm to look for Sophia. He was shocked to see you since you usually weren’t up until noon. He’d know since that’s around the time he sees you watching him through your window.

“Yeah?” He grunted.

“Ya goin’ out to look for that little girl?” Once you were out of the sunlight, he could actually get a good look at you. Something in him stirred when he saw you in the little dress you had on. It was a cream color with ruffles at the bottom and it gave him a good view of your breasts from his position on the horse. He quickly tore his eyes away and looked at the view ahead of him, which was nowhere near as beautiful as you.

“I figure you’ll be gone for a bit, so I brought you a little bite to eat,” you said holding up a few muffins you made the other night wrapped in cheesecloth.

“T-thanks,” he stuttered. Despite how frequent it was, he was always taken aback by the kindness you show him. He’s never been treated the way you treat him before and it caught him off guard.

“Be back by dinner, okay?” It wasn’t a command, more of a hopeful question, but made his heart flutter.

“I’ll try.” He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t keep. You stood there fiddling with your dress about to say something but deciding against it each time.

“Wha’ is it?”

“B-be safe out there!” You blurted before scampering off. He found it odd how you could be so bold with your teasing, yet shy when it came to actually talking to him.

Your words echoed in his head as he searched for any sign of Carol’s lost daughter. Your request of be back by dinner, okay? motivated him to get back to the farm, despite his injuries from the horse tossing him down a cliff making it difficult for him to move. But what really stuck with him was your horrified scream when you saw Andrea shoot him. That scream haunted his dreams while he was unconscious. The terror of it being the last thing he’d hear from you was his real nightmare. So when he heard your soft “Hey,” he felt relief wash over him, despite the pain everywhere else. He blinked his dry eyes open only for the first thing for him to see being your tits. You had on a loose t-shirt with no bra underneath. He didn’t know if this was a part of your teasing or a pure mistake, but either way, his cock stirred at the sight. You leaned down further to look into his eyes.

“How ya feelin’?” You ask, placing the back of your hand to his forehead. He tried to croak out a response, but his throat was too dry. You quickly grabbed the glass of water at his bedside and helped him drink it.

“Better?”

“ ‘M fine,” he said. You gave him a look that said you didn’t believe him, but were humoring him anyway. “You were injured pretty badly, Daryl,” you said as you gently stroked his hair. He caught himself before he could fully melt into your touch. In fact, he moved away from it.

“I know, ‘m fine,” he snapped before trying to roll over, away from you. He didn’t like you seeing him like this. So weak and frail, having to depend on those around him. He didn’t see the hurt expression that took over your pretty face. But, to his luck, you didn’t let him push you away. Instead, you toed off your shoes and got into the bed beside him, facing him. He hoped to the high heavens that you couldn’t see the redness that blossomed on his face when you flashed your bright smile at him.

“I’ll keep ya company,” you promised.

“Don’ need no company, said ‘m fine.” He didn’t know why he was so adamant about pushing you away. The minute he realized you were in here, he brightened up. He didn’t want his sunshine to leave, but he couldn’t help the storm that was brewing inside him.

“Well, if you really want me to leave, I’ll go.” You were almost out of the bed before his clammy hand grabbed your wrist.

“Nah, you can stay,” he said, prompting the return of that bright smile.

When you woke up, the sun was setting and Daryl’s arm was around your waist, holding you close. Your heart swelled, this was all you ever wanted, to be in Daryl’s arms. Okay, well you wanted more than just his arm around you, but small victories! You gently moved his arm off you so you could get up and get some dinner from him and yourself.

“What were you doin’ in there?” Your father asked as soon as you stepped out of the room. He stood outside, about to come in, holding a tray of food for the bowman.

“Nothin’, Daddy, I was jus’ checkin up on our patient!” It was the truth, but it felt like a lie.

“Since earlier this afternoon?” He pressed.

“Lost track of time,” you explained.

“Now, honey, I know you’re just lookin’ out for him, but-“

“I know, I know, you don’t really trust them, but I’m just lovin’ thy neighbor, so to speak.” You bargained.

That response seemed to satisfy him for now. He handed you the tray of food to give you Daryl.

“Daryl, dinner,” you called softly upon reentering the room. He groaned, but woke up anyway. He tried to sit up, but winced in pain. You set the tray down and quickly ran to his side to help him out. You adjusted his pillows and helped him to a sitting position.

“Wha’s fer dinner?” He asked, glancing at the bowl of soup on the tray beside him on the bed. You hummed in thought before dipping your finger into the bowl and sucking it clean, making sure your lips were pouty as you did so, hoping to tease Daryl.

“Tomato.” He hummed noncommittally before reaching for the spoon. You swatted his hand away. “Nuh uh, you’re still healing, let me feed you.”

“I can feed myself,” he protested. You furrowed your brows and pouted at him. He sighed and rolled his eyes, but opened his mouth slightly, waiting for a bite. You smiled, scooping up some soup and spooning it into his mouth, making sure to lean forward as to give him a front row seat to the view down your shirt. You saw him avoid looking the first few times, but soon he was unable to resist taking a peek, and soon his peeking became staring (however, he pretended not to be whenever you looked back up at him).

“Enjoy the soup?” You asked once the bowl was mostly empty.

“S’alright,” he said as he nibbled on a cracker. You grabbed the bowl and drank the rest of the soup directly from it.

“Goddammit!” You cursed when a glob of soup fell onto your white t-shirt. But maybe it was a blessing in disguise, a chance to drive Daryl crazy. You grabbed a random t-shirt from one of the drawers and set it down before taking off the one you had, tossing it aside. You put the new one on as if you didn't just give him a strip show. His face was beet red and he hurried to adjust the blankets on his lap.

"Daryl, you okay? You look a little hot?"

"S'just w-warm in here."

"Let me jus' check your temperature." Instead of pressing the back of your hand to his forehead like before, you placed a gentle kiss to it.

"Feels a little warm." You stayed close to his face. If he moved, even a centimeter, his lips would touch yours, which is what you were hoping for. You glanced down at his lips, then up at his blue eyes, waiting for him to lean in. Despite all this teasing, you kinda wished he'd make a move, too. When he didn't, you pulled away, kissing him on the cheek instead.

"Get well soon, okay?" you said before taking the tray and leaving.

Daryl had been mentally punching himself since that night. He was an idiot for not kissing you when he had the chance. You were right there and so obviously waiting for him to do something, anything. But he couldn't. It'd been so long since he'd done anything with a woman, and even then, he didn't think he was any good. He was almost embarrassed about how inexperienced he was at his age. And someone as beautiful as you obviously would have some experience, so why waste time on him. He didn't want to be the cloud that dulled your shine.

He was now well enough to be released from Hershel’s care, but not well enough to resume about his usual ways. He’d normally disobey orders to take it easy, but when you made him promise to rest, he couldn’t break it. Subconsciously, he glanced over to your window. It wasn’t something he did often, considering you were usually the one watching him, but you were weighing heavily on his mind. He saw you up in your room, assuming you’d just woken up since it was almost noon. You were at your window, rummaging through your dresser -he knew where it was when he caught a glimpse of your room when he was inside the house. You held up a few shirts, probably deciding on which to wear, before pulling your pajama shirt off over your head. This was now the second, no, third time he’s gotten a perfect view of your tits. God they would feel so good in his hands, better yet, they’d look so good bouncing in unison with his thrusts as he fucked you into your mattress. Your teasing and mischievous ways only fueled his fantasies, causing his pants to tighten uncomfortably. The little wave you gave him from your window pulled him out of his own head. You, still topless, blew him a kiss before stepping out of frame.

His heart rate increased expeditiously as he nearly came in his pants. He couldn’t handle your teasing anymore, it was driving him crazy. He wanted you, not just the fantasies in his head and the company of his hand. He wanted to feel your walls squeeze his cock, hear your little moans as he pleasured you until your mind went numb, become one with you as you came in unison. He hurried into his tent and zipped it all the way up before collapsing onto his sleeping bag and hurrying to undo his pants. He liberated his aching cock from its confines and spat on his hand. He rubbed himself up and down, from base to tip, imagining it was your pretty mouth swallowing him whole. He ignored the sound of distant footsteps approaching his tent and instead chased his climax, which was coming embarrassingly fast.

“Daryl?” Your distant voice called, but all he heard in his mind was you moaning his name as your nails scratched down his back.

“You in here?” You asked. Daryl came in his hand, taking extra care to stifle the moan that threatened to spill from his mouth. Reality set in when he saw your shadow standing outside his tent. He quickly wiped his hand off on the closest piece of fabric and shoved himself back in his pants.

“Need somethin’? He asked. He willed you not to notice his flushed, sweaty face.

“Watcha doin’ in there?” You asked, trying to peek into his tent. He moved to block your vision. He didn’t need you finding any trace of his earlier activity. Although, the little dress you had on had him ready to continue said activities.

“Nothin’.”

“Anyway, I came to check on you, make sure you’re takin’ it easy.”

“I am, was jus’ takin’ a nap,” he lied.

“Then why are you so red? And sweaty? Are you comin’ down with somethin’?!” You were starting to sound worried, making Daryl feel guilty. You reached up to feel his forehead and check for a fever, but he stepped back, avoiding your touch. If he felt your skin on his, in any capacity, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back anymore.

“Daryl, don’t be so stubborn!” You stepped closer only for him to step back again.

“Ain’ got no fever, girl! S’just hot out here!” He insisted.

“Don’ know that for sure. If it is one, it could mean one of your wounds is infected.”

“S’not a fever, ‘m sweaty from workin’ out.” You looked at him with an eyebrow skeptically raised and a hand on your hip. So much for takin’ a nap, you thought. Your eyes traveled down his body before meeting his again, this time with look more mischievous than usual in your eyes.

“Your fly’s down.” He quickly zipped it up, cursing himself for the dumb mistake.

“Anythin’ to do with your ‘work out’?”

“Dunno what yer gettin’ at.” His heart was beating faster in his chest, this time because of anxiety. You were onto him and he was about to get caught, humiliated under your scrutinizing gaze.

“Flushed, sweaty face.” You took a step closer and he took one back. “Dilated pupils.” Another step forward and another one back. “Unzipped fly.” He stepped back, not looking where he was going and stumbled onto the grassy ground. You sat down next to him. “Took forever to open your tent.” Your face split into a grin like the Cheshire Cat. “I’d say you were in there masturbatin’.” He stumbled over his words, looking for what to say in denial of your observation accusation. You pressed your pointer finger to his lips.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You leaned over him and slid your hand down his chest. “I touch myself, too.” His sparkling blue eyes went wide. “Usually thinkin’ ‘bout you when I do it.” You could feel his breathing change as you slid your hand further down his toned stomach. “Were you thinkin’ ‘bout me?” His face was beet read and breathing shallow. You had him and he was more than ready, willing, and able to give in. He nodded his head, confirming your suspicions.

“Well, next time I’m on your mind,” you leaned down, lips ghosting his parted ones, “don’t just settle for your hand.” His lips finally met yours in a heated kiss. The built up tension from his days of pining and yours of teasing finally being released in that kiss. You tangled your fingers in his hair, deepening the kiss, slipping your tongue inside and drinking in all his pleasured groans.

“Wanna go back to my room?” You asked after pulling away.

“Nah, too far. Let’s go inside my tent.” You happily agreed and hurried inside, zipping it up behind Daryl. His mouth was back on yours in an instant, passionately exploring it with his tongue. He kissed his way down to your neck, roughly sucking marks.

“Oh, Daryl!” You shouted when he reached a certain spot on your neck, just beneath your ear. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him impossibly close. Nervously, Daryl’s hand experimented with touching your body, his hands firmly gripping your hips. They were comfortable there and not daring enough to try anything else. He wanted to impress you, but at the same time he didn’t want you to notice that he had no clue what he was doing or what to do next, using the pirated porn and one night stands of his past as reference. Your hands grabbed his and placed them on your tits.

“Touch me, Daryl!” You whined. His hands groped and kneaded at the soft mounds of flesh hidden behind the thin fabric of your dress. He pulled down the front of your dress, freeing your tits then recapturing one by putting it in his mouth. His large hand toyed with the right while his mouth suckled the other. Your little wanton whimpers egged him on, giving him the confidence to try more. Your squirmed beneath him, squeezing your thighs together. His cock was also painfully hard, once again, and yearning to feel your warm walls around him. He pulled away and undid his pants before pulling out his cock, stroking it a few times. He looked up at you, but you looked less excited. Your eyes wouldn’t meet his and your arms were crossed over your chest, hiding yourself from him.

“Wha’s the matter, Sunshine?” He asked, the nickname rolling of his tongue naturally. He was more than excited to sleep with you, but his worry regarding your sudden change outweighed that.

“N-nothin’. Jus’ put it in,” you said hoarsely.

“Nah, we ain’ doin’ nothin’ unless ya tell me wha’s wrong.” It sounded harsh, but it came from a place of genuine concern.

You sat up, readjusting your dress as you did so. “I-it’s jus’,” you nervously fiddled with the hem of your dress, something Daryl noticed you did a lot around him. “C-can we go slow? I haven’t done any of this stuff before,” you admitted.

“You a virgin?” He asked, astonished. You glumly nodded your head as if you were accepting defeat. In a twisted way, that relieved him a bit. Maybe since you’ve never had sex, you wouldn’t notice his own lack of experience. He put himself in his boxers before patting the spot in front of him. You crawled over to him and sat between his legs, your back against his chest. His lips found that spot on your neck again and began sucking there as his hand slid underneath your panties. He rubbed your clit in tight circles, causing your thighs to clamp shut over his hand.

“Jus’ relax,” he coaxed. You relaxed the best you could, but the pleasure kept you from staying still.

“F-faster,” you whimpered. He obeyed your command, rubbing you at a quicker pace. Your head fell back against his shoulder and you moaned in his ear. His other hand slipped beneath your panties and gathered your arousal on his finger, before he slowly slid it inside you, giving you time to adjust. He pumped it in and out of you as he continued to rub your clit. Your back arched off him as you moaned his name. He easily slipped in a second finger with how wet you were. Your velvety walls were so soft around his thick digits. He couldn’t wait to feel them with his cock. He moved his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting you in a spot that had you babbling nonsense. You squeezed his fingers with your soaking cunt as your first orgasm overtook your body.

“Daryl, I’m ready. Need ta feel ya inside me,” you slurred. He helped you lay down on your back and slid your panties off before pulling his painfully hard cock out again. Your legs rested over his thighs as he coated his member in your juices before lining it up with your entrance. He slid in as slowly as he could, making sure this would be as painless as it could be for you. You were so soft, slippery, and smooth around him, the best pussy he’s ever had. Once he was all the way in, he stopped to give you time to adjust. He leaned down and connected your lips in another kiss, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled held him close.

“You can move now.” His hands gripped your hips as he started slowly thrusting in and out of you, not wanting to give you too much too soon. His pleasured grunts mingled with your moans as he slid in and out of you.

“More, need more!” You whined. He adjusted your position, placing your legs over his broad shoulders. The new position allowed him to fill you even better. As he pounded in and out of you, the erotic sounds of damp skin slapping damp skin filled the tent, harmonizing with his and your sounds of pleasure. He lifted your dress over your head, getting rid of the barrier between you and him, and tossed it aside. His own fantasies came true as he watched your tits bounce in unison with his thrusts. He took them in his hands again, rolling your nipples between his finger and thumb, bringing you closer to your climax.

“Daryl I think I’ma-” Your sentence trailed off into a moan as you came around his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm as his own approached. He pulled out of you just as he was about to finish and came all over your tits and stomach, like a firehose. You let out a satisfied hum, barely able to keep your eyes open. He grabbed one of his discarded shirts and cleaned you off before laying beside you in the sleeping bag. You rolled over to face him and hugged him close in your arms.

“You were the best first I coulda asked for,” you confessed. Your words soothed his worries that he didn’t perform well enough while also making his heart flutter.

“Guess all yer teasin’ paid off.” You giggled against his chest.

He pulled you closer to him and pulled you in for another kiss, a sweeter, gentler one this time. You dozed off in his comforting arms, wishing you’d never have to leave.

i proofread it, yaaay! anyway, thanks for reading! <3

i wrote this instead of doing my homework, mwahahahah >=]

join the taglist?

masterlist

♱ Taglist ♱

@fuckedbydaryl @banquetwriter @eternalrose81

391 notes · View notes