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mydearestdaryl · 2 days

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𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐲𝐚 (18+) ‧₊˚ ✧

Summary: Daryl needed some love and you gladly gave it to him. Warnings: TWD violence, gore, blood, character deaths, explicit language, smut (oral f receiving, unprotected p in v, simple aftercare). Not proofread. Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f! reader smut + fluff. Setting: Quarry. A/N: I read a post some time ago that said that Daryl in season 1 just needed some kisses to calm down and I couldn't agree more so I wrote this. It's also my first time trying to write smut, so I am so sorry if this sucks, and I was so hesitant to post it so please be nice lol. 😞

“Ha-ha, funny girl,” T-Dog deadpanned, rolling his eyes and suppressing a genuine laugh. It was the third bad joke you told in a row, and he was starting to find them funny.

“I really am,” you replied breathlessly, finally able to catch your breath after cackling at your joke.

“Okay, Eddie Murphy,” T-Dog, added jokingly, making you giggle as he placed a bunch of firewood you'd been helping him split for the past 40 minutes. “Let's head back.”

“I just thought of another one!” You exclaimed as you walked next to him. His groan of annoyance made you laugh before you even told the joke. “What do you call a fish with no eyes?”

“I. Don't. Know.”

“A fsh,” you replied after a dramatic pause, hardly able to contain your laugh as he gave you a side-eye, pressing his lips together to hold a smile back. “Please, I-” you started, but interrupted yourself as a commotion reached your ears from the camp. You recognized Daryl's voice.

Sharing a confused look with T, you both picked up the pace, coming into view with what seemed like a heated discussion between Daryl, Shane, and Rick, the man who joined the camp yesterday. You felt a little annoyed that they ignored T-Dog's request to let him tell Daryl, but oh well.

“Rick Grimes,” he introduced himself to Daryl.

“Rick Grimes,” Daryl mocked him, “y' got somethin' you wanna tell me?”

“Your brother was a danger to us all, so I handcuffed him on a roof hooked into a piece of metal,” Rick stated, apparently with confidence. “He's still there.”

You stayed in place, watching as T-Dog slowly took a few steps closer to the scene.

Daryl hummed as he turned around, pacing shortly before he spoke, “Le' me process this,” said he while turning to face Rick again, clearly growing irritated. “Ya' sayin' you handcuffed ma brother to a roof, and you left 'im there!” His veins popped as his voice got raspier as he yelled at the other man.

Rick gulped before admitting. “Yeah.”

Suddenly, Daryl tossed the squirrels he was carrying toward Rick, the latter swiftly dodging them before Shane jumped into action, tackling Daryl to the ground. Next, he pulled a knife from its holster, swinging it at the former cops, but being stopped in a matter of seconds.

In the blink of an eye, Shane put Daryl in a chokehold, while Rick snatched the weapon out of his hand. “Ya best let me go!” warned Daryl, struggling in Shane's grip as the cop brought him to the ground. You walked closer toward Carol as your eyes remained on the scene, but decided to walk to the other side as you noticed Ed was next to her.

“I think it's better if we don't,” Shane replied, almost mockingly.

“Chockehold's illegal,” Daryl added, face red from the struggle.

“'Kay, file a complaint,” If this situation was not so tense, you would've laughed. You did a little on the inside. Rick kneeled in front of the restrained man as Shane spoke again. “C'mon, man, can keep this up all day.”

“I'd like to have a calm discussion on this topic. You think we can manage that?” Rick spoke, trying to find Daryl's eyes. “You think we can manage that?” the cop repeated when no answer was obtained.

Panting and growling, Daryl grunted in agreement, finally getting Shane to release him; more aggressively than he should, if they asked you. Sitting up quickly, Daryl pointed at Shane warningly. Rick continued: “What I did was not on a whim,” he explained. “Your brother does not work and play well with others.”

“It's not Rick's fault,” T-Dog spoke up, his leg bouncing anxiously as he confessed. “I had the key. I dropped it.”

“Couldn't pick it up?” Daryl retorted. His voice was calmer, but you recognized in his stormy eyes a hint of grief. Nobody else cared about his brother when his brother was everything he had. You couldn't imagine how terrible this situation was for him.

“Well, I dropped it in a drain.”

Dropping his head, Daryl slowly got up, gathering his composure again. Anger returned to his expression as he walked past T-dog, “'f it's s'posed ta make me feel better, it don't,” glaring daggers at the 'culprit.'

“Maybe this will,” T went on to say, “I chained the door to the roof so the geeks couldn't get at him... with the padlock”

“It's gotta count for something,” Rick piped in.

Drying a tear as soon as it came, Daryl took a deep breath. “Hell with all y'all!” he screamed. “Jus' tell me where he is, so's I can go get 'im.”

“He'll show you,” Lori stated, staring into her husband's eyes. “Ain't that right?” Rick's eyes left his wife's after a few seconds, finding T-Dog's shortly before nodding.

“I'm going back,” he declared, almost solemnly, hands on his hips as his eyes met Daryl's again. The younger Dixon clenched his jaw before walking past everyone to get his crossbow and stomping to his tent.

You didn't notice you went behind him until Dale stopped you by grabbing your wrist. “What are you doing, honey?” the older man questioned. He'd always been kind and sweet to you, so you gently released yourself from his grip.

“He's upset,” you explained, and he seemed to understand as he nodded reluctantly, but understandingly. On your way, you grabbed your half-full water bottle, and slowly approached the edge of the camp, where the tent of the Dixon's was.

You found Daryl sitting on the chair outside his tent, shoulders hunched forward, fists clenched with anger as if grasping the last shreds of control. His head bowed low and his eyes were shut tight. You caught the way his body shook softly with quiet sobs. You stilled, not daring to interrupt this stolen vulnerable moment.

After another minute, he abruptly stood up, drying his tears before cursing loudly while kicking the chair he was sitting in. You were suddenly hesitant to approach him and decided to turn around and leave, but before you took one step, his voice reached your ears.

“Whaddaya doin' here?”

You took a deep breath before turning back around and walking up to him, your water bottle hanging from your hand. “I- uhm, I just wanted to say I'm sorry about Merle, and-”

“Ya don' even like 'im,” he snapped defensively.

“No, I don't,” you confirmed, “but I like you, and he's your brother. Even if my brother would annoy the shit out of me before, I loved him, and... I'm sorry you're going through this, Daryl,” you took a few steps closer, eyes on the ground as you spoke before meeting his.

His gaze remained on yours, before studying your face, finding nothing but the truth.

He frowned deeper, angrily huffing out a breath before turning away from you to rant. “He's jus' so fuckin' stupid. Nobody can fuckin' stand him an' he can't keep 'is fuckin' mouth shut!” he yelled, pacing from left to right, hands dancing through the air practically independently, punctuating his words.

“Why he gotta be such a fuckin' pain in the ass? Not even when we gotta surv-” mid-sentence, your hands found his cheeks, and with utter sweetness your lips impulsively found his, silencing his words.

He stilled, hands slowly dropping to his sides, body completely tense.

You quickly pulled away, opening your eyes to find his eyes slightly wide and totally confused. Your hands left his face and you took a step back. Your eyes awkwardly looking anywhere but at him. “Fuck, Daryl, I'm so sorry,” you started, a knot of anxiety growing in your chest. “I don't know why I did that... well, I know why, 'cause I like you, but I shouldn't have, I'm- I'm so sorry, really.”

Your rambling was interrupted by his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to connect his lips with yours. This time he was more relaxed, and the kiss was slower. His hands slid down to gently grab your hips, pressing his body to yours.

Your arms snaked around his neck, dropping your water bottle, and allowing your lips to part when his tongue requested entrance. Exploring the taste of each other, time stilled for a moment, but you loved it. The kiss grew almost desperate and the grip on your hips got stronger.

Unhappy to pull away, but needing to do so to breathe, you found yourself gasping as his lips left yours. You smiled brightly, cheeks rosy, and he smirked while dipping his head. “Also, I brought you water,” you added, grabbing the bottle from the ground, and dusting off the little dirt that stuck to its side before handing it to him.

“Thanks,” he nodded, taking it from your hands before opening it, downing the liquid, and emptying the bottle.

“You're gonna find him,” you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder and a quick kiss on his cheek. He smiled and nodded once again, muttering a thank you. You sounded pretty confident as if you knew, which gave him the confidence when he left on the search for his brother later that day.

Everybody screamed as they tried to avoid or fight the walkers emerging from the thick forest. The evening that started so peacefully suddenly turned into the perfect scene of a terrifying horror movie.

Things moved fast and slow at the same time. It was a blur. Tunnel vision, solely focused on surviving and protecting your group, moving on automatic pilot as you dug your machete countless times into the head of those flesh-hungry monsters.

You didn't even notice when it ended, barely feeling a pair of strong hands gripping your shoulders. His voice sounded distant asking if you were okay over and over. But you couldn't answer, you weren't sure if you were okay, the adrenaline didn't let you feel your body.

His loud voice calling your name finally snapped you out of your trance. “What?” You asked, brows knitting in confusion.

“Were ya bitten? Are ya alright?” Daryl questioned, nealy manhandling you as he searched and scanned for bites or scratches on your neck, lifting the sleeves of your flannel to make sure the skin of your arms was intanct.

“I didn't get bit or anything,” you shook your head, still a bit gone.

Cupping your face to study your eyes, he quickly pulled you into his arms, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. You felt finally safe now. You wrapped your arms around his torso, closing your eyes and hiding your face in his neck.

After everyone agreed to get some rest and leave the cleaning for the morning, Daryl offered to stay in your tent with you that night.

He helped you into your pajamas, and you cuddled for a bit as he told you what happened in Atlanta. Then you simply lay in silence. You played with his fingers and he watched you adoringly, rubbing soothing circles on your back with his free hand.

You looked up to find his eyes on yours. Gently he cupped your chin, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. Your hand went up to cup half of his face, returning the kiss with equal passion. It was almost needy but slow. It was like he needed the confirmation that you were both here and okay.

Tongues met in a slow dance, and his hands reached down to cup your ass, easily moving you to lay on top of him. You couldn't help but moan as your body completely pressed against his, but it also made you want to feel more.

His hands slid under your shirt, and you broke the kiss in need of oxygen, immediately latching your lips onto his neck, sucking and kissing. He hummed in satisfaction, which was all the confirmation you needed to keep going, but he stopped after a few moments, pulling his hands out of your shirt, and cupping your face again for you to look at him.

“You sure 'bout this?” he asked, his face stern as he waited for your answer.

You nodded hastily, licking your lips. “Yeah. Are you?”

“'M sure,” he said without hesitation, pulling you onto his lap so you could straddle him. “Need ta feel ya,” he whispered in a husky voice, sending a shiver down your spine as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss.

His hands caressed the dip of your waist up and down under your shirt as you made out. You buckled your hips up unintentionally but did it again on purpose when you heard him moan into your mouth.

You were straight-up grinding into his hips before he pulled away from your mouth, “not yet, doll,” he whispered as he took your shirt off. His hands went to your breasts like magnets, kneading and massaging the curves shamelessly as he peppered your neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses that trailed down to pop a tit inside his mouth.

Your clothed cunt clenched on air, as you closed your eyes and moaned, enjoying the attention, and you could feel his excitement tenting in his pants as well.

He slowly shifted the position, you back now on the mattress. After he decided both tits had been given enough attention, albeit still reluctant, his mouth trailed lower and lower, hands smoothly pulling your shorts and panties at the same time as his tongue and mouth kissed and licked the skin of your stomach.

His eyes met yours as he kissed your thighs, silently asking for permission to go further. “Please,” you whispered, surprising yourself by how needy you sounded, but then again, you did feel like you needed him right now.

He wasted no time, and in less than a second his mouth was latched to your clit. Tongue swirling on it and sucking, making you gasp. He used his whole face, pushing himself deeper and moving side to side as his tongue flicked over your sensitive pearl quickly. Hungrily. You arched your back involuntarily, fingers finding his hair to pull while simultaneously pulling him closer.

With a hand on your hip, he sucked a few more times before he licked a strip down to your entrance where his tongue began to fuck you. His thumb replaced his mouth on your clit, rubbing at the same speed as his tongue went in and out of you. You moaned and whimpered and cursed, trying to keep quiet, being apparently unsuccessful.

“Quiet, sunshine,” he whispered, his free hand reaching up to make you suck on two fingers to silence you, and you happily obliged. Your legs wrapped around his head as he continued his ministrations, the familiar knot forming in your stomach.

“Fuck, Daryl, I- wait,” your back arched further, legs pulling him closer, contradicting your plead as he moved faster and faster, changing again to suck on your clit and fuck you with his fingers. He hummed and the vibrations brought you closer. “So close.”

Your pitch was higher and higher, the knot tighter and tighter. All it took was a final, flick and suck of his tongue, feeling him moan against your cunt before pushing you over the edge into a shattering climax. The free hand covered your mouth as the other slowed down, prolonging your pleasure until your body relaxed and you came down from your high.

“Fuck,” you looked at him with hazy eyes.

“Fuck,” he said as a confirmation, looking down to see a damp spot on his sweatpants.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him into a kiss. He gladly kissed you back as you slid your hands under his shirt, trying to pull it up, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist.

“I-” he started, looking away from your eyes and knawing on his bottom lip. “I have- I....”

“You don't have to take it off, it's okay.”

“No, I wan' ta, jus'” he sighed, slowly taking the shirt off. He was thankful his back was away from you. At least you wouldn't have to see those yet. “My dad... was a drunk,” he reached to touch, kind of trying to hide, one of the scars on his shoulders, but you gently pushed his hand away, tracing the scar with your fingertips before looking up at him. You smiled and kissed him shortly, before kissing the scars on his shoulders.

“You're so strong,” you whispered.

His heart was beating fast but in a good way. His lips found yours again as he settled himself between your legs. Your now-familiar mouths found a rhythm as he started to pull his sweatpants and boxers down.

His erection hit your thighs making you pull away. You bit your bottom lip at the sight; he was thick, and the size was a bit on the bigger side. “All for you, baby,” he whispered, as he pumped himself a couple of times.

He rubbed the tip on your clit and entrance, spreading your and his juices all over your cunt again. “Ya ready?” he asked, slapping your cunt with his dick gently. You nodded. “Nah, need ya to speak up.”

“Please, Dar, I'm ready. I need you.”

He hummed in satisfaction, leaning to prop himself up with his forearms around your head, kissing your cheek, before slowly pushing into you. You moaned and he groaned. You were wet and ready enough, so the stretch felt like pure bliss for both of you.

He grabbed both your hands with one of his and pinned them above your head, starting to move when you wrapped your legs around his hips. “Feel so good, doll.”

He started slow, savoring the moment but also nervous to hurt you. But soon, he picked up a rhythm and started moving faster. Your boobs bounced beneath him as he kissed and worshipped your neck and breasts. You felt so deliciously full as he thrust up into your tight, dripping heat, moaning and whimpering underneath him.

He was in heaven, eyes inevitably closed as he made love to you, but he wanted to keep them open to look at you. To him, you looked like a work of art just like that.

“Harder,” you breathed, and he obliged. Your skin met over and over and the sounds filled your tent. He grunted, reaching down to rub on your clit, eliciting a gasp from you. “Oh, right there,” your voice was getting higher, letting him know you were close. “Don't stop, fuck, please, don't stop.”

“I won', baby. I gotcha,” he moaned. His thrusts became more and more urgent, each one hitting that sweet spot that made your body arch and your toes curl. If your hands weren't inside his gasp you'd be grasping the sheet beneath you. With one last flick of your clit, you shattered.

His mouth claimed yours to silence your cries of pleasure. Pure ecstasy filled your body, and prolonging your high, Daryl continued moving inside you, until he, too, reached his peak, quickly pulling out and releasing himself on your stomach.

Spent and breathless, he collapsed next to you, who was in the same state as him. Your body tingled with the remnants of your passion, and you couldn't help the smile on your face as he kissed your face lazily.

Your eyelids were too heavy to notice when he pulled a little rag from somewhere and cleaned you up, then you felt him put your clothes on again, and his too. All too relaxed, you nestled into his embrace as he pulled you into his arms, both falling asleep in a matter of seconds.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon headcanons #twd #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixion imagine #twd fanfiction

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starryhutcherson · 3 days

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━━ ON THE CLOCK

author's note: to those who have submitted requests a reminder that since i always keep my requests open there are a lot of them already so im working towards completing all of them but be please be patient with me, and also i sincerely appreciate all the i've support gotten so far!!

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! masturbation (m!receiving), mentions of riding, phone sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 2000+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

The air in the monitor room is stale and sticky against Mike’s goosepricked skin. He’s more or less nearing the brink of insanity in the incessant silence that’s only punctuated by the occasional squeak of the chair beneath him, and his own heavy, helpless breathing. He’s hyper aware of the ache of his growing bulge as it strains against the constraints of dark, faded denim, and it’s becoming more and more difficult to ignore his longing as he tries (and fails) to keep his eyes trained on the grainy images of the monitors before him.

Six hours seemed more resemblant to six years as he sat and watched and waited —waited for this shitty shift to end so he could get home, get home to you. You and your airy giggles and knowing eyebrow raises, that evil twinkle that lives in your irises, the one you flash him before he’d whisk you away to the privacy of his modest bedroom, diving into your body, the territory he’s claimed as his.

Fuck. He can have you once this is all over, he tells himself. He wasn’t going to bother you when you were sleeping, not when he’d already swarmed you with the responsibility of unpaid babysitting for Abby.

Even though his jeans were sodden with a saturated patch of precum that was blooming right at the tip of his tent.

His mind wanders before he can rope it back in; he’s thrust back into the memories of previous intimacy. Of his shaking figure, swallowed by the mattress, outlined in a tide of his own sweat, your gentle palm easing along his length, the stark contrast from his own calloused fist so erotic in itself. You were always there. Every buck into your hand, you accepted. Everything he needed, you gave. You always gave.

He feels like an animal; his insatiable lust makes him sick in his own skin, but what can he do? You’re everything and more, and the heat festering in his stomach is making it hard to breathe. His desire is too strong over him – he’s weak. He runs his tongue along his teeth, searching for you and the flavor he craves but his search is futile.

A few more tangled minutes saunter by, and eventually he feels he has no choice but to give in to a fraction of his lust. His skin is melded further with a dry haze of heat and he curses himself as he reaches into his boxers.

Stroke, stroke, stroke.

He starts slow, his fingers grazing his cock and triggering a taunting voice that begs for more more more. You stay imprinted onto the forefront of his mind; every curve and crevice, the way you conduct the heat of his groping hands better than any precious metal. He can picture the slope of your jaw so effortlessly, the way your neck bleeds into your shoulders, every divot, every movement forever memorized.

He needs more, it isn’t enough, the friction feels like an unscratchable itch. He’s chafing and aching like a raw wound, his pace quickens, his voice raises pitch, but nothing happens. Without you, he's helpless.

Mike’s brows furrow, nose twitches with utter concentration, features strewn wildly across his face as he chases his fantasy, fist speeding. In his mind, your body glides atop his, slick and succulent; the air is so heavy, a smothering caress to your slippery skin as your hips rock and ride with practiced ease. A whimper falls from his lips. Another, and another, ringing dull across the frozen air.

But it won’t ever be enough.

He needs a part of you, a slice, a vestige, something. He can’t come now, not on his own, not without some help. His wrist falls limp, his chest rises and falls sporadically as he takes his breath back in, stopping his movements. His eyes wander across the decrepit room until they reach the phone, mounted against the wall and waiting for him. Beckoning him. Call you. Get some help. He knows he needs it.

Shit.

—

Your body feels lifeless as it deflates into the welcome embrace of the worn sofa. Swaddled in a patchwork blanket, hands nursing a cup of lukewarm tea, your vision remains weary as it wanders through the curios of the Schmidt family home. The dim light that seeped from the lamp on your right was enough to coax you further into a state of fatigue, and you might have fully fallen off the brink of consciousness had it not been for the shrill cry of the phone that rang from the kitchen.

You stumble upwards to a shaky standing, inching across the carpeted floor and picking up the receiver with a lethargy wave of your wrist.

“Hello?”

Your voice is broken glass as it comes out, shredded and tired and when Mike hears how groggy you sound he nearly hangs up without even greeting you.

“Uh… hey.”

You can hear the speed of his uneven exhales, what’s he been doing? Is he alright? Why is he even calling you?

“Mike, what the hell? Why are you calling on the job? Has something happened?”

A moment's pause blossoms between the line, as another shaky breath tears itself from his mouth.

“Nothing’s uh… nothing’s happened.” You cock a brow, and he can hear the confusion knitted into your tone.

“What’s going on then? Why do you sound like you just ran around the block?”

Again, he doesn’t reply. And then reality takes a knock at your head.

“Oh.” He’s silent, every inch of him consumed by raging shame. Jesus, why’d he call you? Why’d he have to embarrass himself like this? He’s pathetic, he’s so pathetic, he called you? You’re gonna realize how needy he is, you’re gonna hate him, you’re gonna leave him—

“You know I can’t come over, Mikey.”

Your saccharine voice is enough reassurance that this wasn’t as stupid as he thought; at least you haven’t screamed or been sick with disgust at the revelation that he really, truly, needs you.

“I know. I know, I… I just thought that…” He swallows his pride. “I just wanted to hear your voice. Look, I can hang up–”

“Don’t.”

He silences himself, and shifts uncomfortably in the cheap spinny chair that he’s resting in.

“Don’t?” He probes nervously.

“Nope.”

He’s aching, leaking, every single surface of him is basked in sweat and screaming out for you.

“I’ll help you, yeah? That’s what you want? Need me to talk you through it?”

A shiver chews at his spine, his figure convulses and his knuckles whiten around the phone.

“Don’t get shy now Mike.”

He just about crumples at your tone; so sultry and yet sugar-sweet. You’re sanguine; he’d devour you if he could, drunk on the feeling you give him. He’s never known love like this and he never wants to let it go.

“Yes. Yes, please, god, please.” Mike can taste your grin through the phone.

“Knew it. Is your dick out already? Is it Mike?”

His insides burn. “Y/n–”

“Tell me Mike. C’mon.”

He glances down at himself, at his cock that rests stiff and swollen in his hand, wet webs of pre-cum etched across the skin of his rough palms. “Yeah,” he confesses softly, weakly.

“So you’re all ready f’me, huh?”

He nods despite your inability to see it, eyes trained on the way he pulses, the way he dreams to disappear between your glistening folds.

“Mike.”

“Shit. Sorry. Uh– yeah. Yeah. I’m.. I’m ready,” his voice descends an octave.

You settle down into the chair beside you, getting comfortable, a smirk creeping into the corner of your lips. “Then go on. Touch yourself. Nice and slow, just for me.”

He chokes at this, spluttering as his fingers ghost along the sensitive flesh, thumb caressing his tip as his fist begins to stroke his length. He lets out a satisfied hum, falling into the gentle rhythm that you allow him. Nothing faster. He wants you to make him cum. He wants to be good for you.

“Yeah? Feels good?”

He’s still a little tense– he’s never done anything this dirty before. Technically speaking, he’d never done anything dirty until he’d met you. He was bound to Abby early on, and lost any idea of a relationship, prioritizing her in every instance, but then you came along, took his heart and his virginity and everything in between, and he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Should be you,” the words tumble from his lips, accompanied by an audible slop as he gathers more of his slick with his fist.

“I know, baby.” His chest caves at the pet name. “I know. But it can’t be right now.”

He grumbles something that is lost under the muffle of background noise and the distance between you two, but the phone does capture a soft whine that crawls from deep in his throat. He bucks up, seeking more; more friction, more of the nectar that drools from your voice. To taint your neck with reds and purple, for you to do the same to him. He needs to writhe beneath you, for you to drink his stress up with kisses. His hand gains speed and another fractured whimper escapes his lips, adorned with the broken syllables of your name.

“That’s it. Just like that. Go faster for me, a little faster.”

He’s nodding again, a subconscious action as his hips begin to chase his fist. He doesn’t have the capacity in his head to reply to your sugared little coaxes with words, but he whines and grunts and loses himself. Loses every shred of apathy, loses the stress and the indifferent facade that he veils upon himself.

If he was sweating badly before, his current state is beyond that. He’s soaked, his entire face glimmering under the flickering lights, and all he feels is an inescapable hunger blooming in his stomach, and oh god he’s already so embarrassingly close.

“You getting close for me Mike?” He manages to jumble out a quiet, “So close,” under the current of his breathless whimpers, the stark contrast to his typical low grumble almost comical.

“Yeah you are. Just for me, right? Gonna give it to me, I know you are.”

He just about sobs; tears prick the corners of his warm eyes and he gives up any and all control, fist pumping at an ineffable speed as needy cries spew from him like a faucet. He’s finally getting what he needs. “Just for you, god, god, honey please– please, honey, sweetheart, oh–”

“Gonna make a mess, a big mess, all over your hand? You always do. Always giving me everything, so good for me.” He’s indescribably close, nearing the brink of ecstasy, whining and moaning and thrusting into his hand and convincing himself that it’s yours– you and your soft palms, floral lotion delving into every crevice. He moans, once, twice, dangerously near…

“And you know I’ll always be here, ready at home for the real thing.”

He cries out your name so loud the impact alone should shatter glass as he erupts with thick white ribbons, tears rolling free along the flesh of his reddened cheeks, whimpering shamelessly. His brows knit so tightly his skin scrunches, his eyes squeezed shut as his sentences string out in incoherent bursts and all he feels is the overwhelming relief as his entire figure shudders in shock.

His hand, the table, his faded navy hoodie, tainted with ivory spills that seem to never cease. He comes and comes and comes, heavy and hard, enough to fill buckets. His chest heaves and he wants to freeze this moment and keep it tucked in the waistband of his jeans, buried in the creases of his mind. Your name occasionally falls from the knot of tangled words he can’t seem to choke out, and though it seems eternal, he does float down from his bliss eventually.

You listen to his breathing for a while, hearing his jagged gasps morph back to even sounding pants, and you can sense the moment it all hitches and the shyness, the awkward man who asked for your number in the coffee shop, claims him once again. He doesn’t speak first.

“You okay Mike? Did I lose you?” You tease gently.

He groans out. “Stop.”

“That’s not what you were saying before,” you grin.

He grunts irritably. “I hate you.”

“Oh really?” There’s a soft silence that creases as his voice, gravelly and hoarse, comes back.

“No.”

You smile. “I love you Mike.” There’s no pause this time.

“I love you too.”

masterlist

✩‧₊

#mike schmidt smut #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf movie #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #five nights at freddy's #michael schmidt

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thewertsearch · 2 days

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TG: i thought about taking his sword TG: when i was there TG: but i couldnt TG: couldnt really bring myself to try to pull it out it was too weird

Even if you did, you’d have to break it in order to wield it - and unlike your regenerating sword, I don't think Bro's katana will be very effective as a half-blade.

GG: dave we have to stop him!!!!! TG: what GG: jack! […] GG: why dont you stop jumping around through time like a maniac and stop being like a hundred daves all the time and come to my house so we can make a plan to kill him??

I’m liking this new, more pro-active Jade. With Rose distracted by Doc Scratch's games, we probably need a new leader, and I think Jade could fit the bill.

However, I don’t think any number of Daves would be enough to take Jack down. That’s exactly what Aradia tried, and we all know how that turned out. If a thousand telekinetic necromancers can't put a scratch on him, I don't think Dave will fare much better.

TG: besides we cant beat him TG: look what he did to bro and davesprite together TG: im at the top of my echeladder with all the fraymotifs and i stand no chance

Dave’s already stronger than Future Dave was when he came back to the past. His progress is astounding - but the session's power creep has got so bad that it doesn’t even matter.

Like - let's imagine, for a second, that all four kids attacked Jack with their full power, right now. If they all synergized perfectly, taking full advantage of John's hurricanes, Rose's Horrorterror connections, and all the time duplicates Dave can make....

They'd still be reduced to a fine mist.

Jack has inherited a power strong enough to raze the entire Earth, and none of the kids can touch him. Becsprite initially seemed like an opportunity to match that power, Sun-to-Sun, but Vriska, for her own godforsaken reasons, nixed that plan.

The kids have got nothing. Even their plan to cheat by destroying the Green Sun is probably hopeless, because we know it ultimately serves Doc Scratch's ends, not ours. Things are really dire.

TG: only thing we can do is hold out until the scratch GG: what is the scratch? TG: guess i shouldnt really say TG: since you sort of lead the way in making that plan

And then there's the Scratch plan itself, which is apparently Jade's idea - although I'd be extremely surprised if Doc's grubby little fingers weren't all over this one, too.

Opening rifts in space is certainly Jade's department, so I think she's going to suggest it as a counter-plan to Rose's more risky Sun strategy.

TG: if we cant beat him TG: all we can really do is exile him to a place where he cant teleport back TG: which hopefully buys us some time TG: to try to take out his power source in a crazy suicide mission

A two-pronged approach, then. They trigger the Scratch, push Jack through a rift, and then send Rose's dream self out to destroy the sun before he's able to return.

...man, this is such a dangerous idea. Even if it wasn't being influenced by Doc, it'd still set off some huge alarm bells.

Like - sure, destroying the Green Sun might help this session survive, but what about every other session? Don't they need the Sun, to power their non-corrupted First Guardians? I just think we should maybe think for a second before deleting a critical piece of the reproductive mechanism for the entire multiverse.

#homestuck liveblog #full liveblog #act 5.2 #s109 #3204

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dinogoofymutated · 1 day

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NSFW!Gladiator/AFAB!reader

Tmi warning but I'm about to start my period and I've been loosing my mind over fictional men. It's like ovulating but WORSE. Mostly over Cable, but @lina-lovebug sent in an ask about gladiator from episode 6 and although I'm definitely going to write it I got distracted while doing research on him and this kinda happened!!! Speaking of which, in your ask you said you were starving for content for him so I figured I go ahead and tag you :) sorry if NSFW isn't your thing.

Anyway, Big, serious men with no humor are making me absolutely feral this week IM NAWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSRE UGHHHH For those who don't remember gladiator is, He's the hot purple dude that punched the shit out of the bird lady lol

TWs: MDNI!!! Pnv sex. Name calling. Not degradation tho. Too many positions, too much stamina. Purple alien man doesn't know how to process his feelings for you™

Imagine annoying gladiator with your every being. You just can't help it. Most of the time the stoic man just ignores you outright, never smiling nor even acknowledging you, period.

To be honest, he didn't like how talkative you were. You were always running your mouth about something or other, and when you weren't, you were teasing him. Holding simple and insignificant "victories" over his head due to your origin as a mutated human terran.

On your side, you just wanted him to acknowledge you. You figured he wouldn't be able to ignore you forever. Whatever strange relationship the two of you had, the one thing that seemed to affect him the most was your mutant abilities - or specifically, the parts of your abilities that effect your stamina.

When you realized you had a stamina bar that very much rivaled gladiators own, your teasing had started to take a turn towards something a little more lustful.

You just never expected Gladiator to take you up on your offer to have a friendly little "stamina competition."

You've lost count of how many positions the two of you have gone through. Both of you are panting, sweaty- sticky. Really sticky. Who knows how much time is passed, but neither of you are willing to quit now. Gladiator currently has your knees over his shoulders, pounding into your slick cunt steadily. His hands are holding onto your hips in a tight grip, pulling you onto him each time he bottoms out.

"You are... infuriating. Annoying. Agh- Hah-... Greedy. I've pushed you to the brink, and still, you want more." Kallark says above you, his voice still surprisingly steady in between his moans of pleasure. Your own throat is sore from taunting him in between your own moans and screams of delight.

"I-fuck! I can go as long as you go, pretty boy." You say, smirking at him. Gladiator Scowls at you, face flushed, sweat beading down his forehead. You doubt you look much better, the both of you pushing each other to the farthest limits of your stamina. You let out an embarrassing shriek as Kallark leans forward, bending you in half as he presses your thighs to your chest, hitting the deepest spots inside of you. Kallark's usually steady thrusting begins to become a little more frantic as he starts to reach his umpteenth peak of the day. -but his thrusts become unsteady. Inconsistent. You're finally starting to tire him out, you think.

"Aww, look at that- ah... You're beginning to slip, Kallark." You taunt him. His hand reaches up to cup your face harshly, his grip slightly tighter than normal. He turns your head to face him as his heated gaze pierces your own.

"Would you- please, stop talking."

By the time the two of you are finally out of breath, you swear that At least an entire 24 hour period has gone by. Hell, maybe even longer. You and gladiator are sprawled out side by side. Your eyes are closed, fading in and out of consciousness as you try (and fail) to collect yourself. You feel weight shift next to you as Kallark rolls onto his side. He's full on against you now, a hand settling on your chest to feel the quick beats of your human heart. It's strange. Not like him. You open your eyes, finding yourself lost in the sight of Kallark. He's looking at you with a mix of fond emotions, and for the first time, it's almost like his brain has stalled. Like a computer stuck in between the loading screen.

"Kallark?” You whisper. He doesn't respond. Doesn't even blink.

“You okay there, big guy?" You try again, biting your lip. Kallark's gaze catches the motion, then trailing down to the bruises he's left in your neck- “hickeys” is what he remembers you calling them. He can feel his heart do something strange, and he chooses to look back up at your face instead. Your flushed cheeks. Kiss-swollen lips. Messy hair. He feels a familiar heat as his body reacts to such a lustful sight.

"Vixen. Temptress. I know not what you've done to me. " Kallark finally says, thumb gently pulling your bottom lip away from the pinch of your teeth. You raise an eyebrow at him, not mockingly, just confused. He then reaches up to brush the hair from your face, an action fueled by a much more gentle warmth in his chest.

"...I don't believe you know what you've done, either." He whispers. You can't help but smile at him, especially as you reach up to caress his cheek and he leans into the contact with a sigh.

"Well… we have plenty of time to figure that out together."

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #x men smut #gladiator #gladiator x reader #kallark x reader #x men kallark #x men gladiator #kallark smut #x men gladiator smut #x men 97 smut

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