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#his time in the commonwealth

theflowerofthecommonwealth · 1 year

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Preston, Deacon, X6, Danse, and Hancock: (All seated on little chairs around a table with tea party set up)

Jasmine: (Puts a handmade flower crown on X6’s head) “Hehehe…”

X6: (Remains unmoving and unbothered while he sips his tea)

Deacon: (Wearing clip on earrings and fairy wings with a tutu) “Looking good there pal, the colors really bring out your smile.”

X6: (Ignores him while turning on the radio)

Jasmine: (Eagerly dashed over to the counter to prep the treats)

Piper: (Leans in the doorway with a questioning look at the men) “Well, what’s going on in here?”

Preston: (Has a tiara over his hat) “Tea party, care to join us? The more the merrier.”

Jasmine: (Perks up with shining eyes and points to an empty seat next to Danse)

Piper: (Sits down and looks around) “So… is this some sort of dare? Or did someone pay you guys-?”

Danse: (Wearing a bunch of metallic beaded necklaces and pink sunglasses) “Shhhh.” (Puts a finger to his lip then gesture to the girl who’s happily skipping around)

Piper: (Raises her eyebrows) “Ahhh, I see.”

Deacon: (Offering a pot of tea to a teddy bear) “Care for some more tea, Miss Winifred?”

Jasmine: (Serving fresh brownies to her guests on pink plastic plates)

Hancock: (Has little bows pinned on his hat and one too many giant gemstone rings on his fingers) “Now this is what I call a real treat, thanks little sister.” (Generously puts a brownie on Miss Winifreds plate)

Preston: (Stirring his tea) “Pass the sugar, please.”

X6: (Wordlessly hands him the jar while munching on a brownie)

Piper: (Whispering to the teen) “You sure get away with a lot of stuff, don’t you kiddo?”

Jasmine: (Grins mischievously)

(Don’t tell me you wouldn’t join this little party. The brownies are to die for)

#This was all part of a plot to keep Jasmine distracted from the fact that Nick was gone for longer than he promised.#Like several days longer than what was originally planned.#Jas was moments away from storming across the Commonwealth while burning everything in her path.#Or just sobbing out of fear.#So the boys started gathering whatever they could find that might cheer her up.#They stumbled upon her prewar tea party set and just nodded to each other in affirmation.#X6 helped Jasmine baked brownies in the kitchen while everyone else tried to figure out how to set things up.#Cause last time Deacon Danse and Hancock were in the kitchen they set it on fire.#Deacon was the one to hand out the accessories as a mandatory “uniform” for their party.#X6 refused to wear anything until Jasmine put the flower crown on his head.#He refused to acknowledge it but also didn’t try to remove it.#Jazzy made it herself and gifted it to him. Therefore it’s extra special to him.#Danse took some coaxing to wear the sunglasses and necklaces.#Once he saw everyone was jumping in on the accessories and how happy it made Jasmine he caved.#They are all such good big brothers for doing this with Jas.#It reminds me of that one episode of The Office where the cast gets worried and stressed about losing their jobs.#So Michael starts a silly murder mystery game to keep everyone distracted from the bigger issue.#Yeah. That but with these guys and their little sister #You just gotta do some harmless silly/stupid things sometimes for the benefit of having fun #fallout #fo4 #fallout 4 #fallout companions #fallout oc #fallout original character #fo4 danse #paladin danse #danse #john hancock #piper wright

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robocracker · 1 year

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finally saw the last episode of his dark materials with my sister today, and... seeing it all on a proper tv screen instead of my ancient laptop this time around, there was a lump in my throat before the opening credits even finished... and yes, i was in tears once again as soon as they were revisiting the bench at midsummer...

at least i wasn’t as much of a weeping mess as i was the first time i saw it. i think it helps when you’ve got someone next to you asking you questions every so often to clarify things (curse you bbc, for making so much dialogue too quiet to hear fully!). and also, i’m recovering from a winter virus, so any pathetic sniffling on my part during farewell scenes was handwaved away as sickness instead of... you know. crying over two fictional children.

(and now, all there is to do is... wait to see if the book of dust gets adapted for tv, too!!)

#his dark materials #i keep hearing about how divisive the secret commonwealth was for the fandom so i'm wary about actually diving into the books #at least until the last one comes out and we can safely cross the possibility of a lyra/malcolm romance OUT of the canon #if that romance happens then the story will simply have ended at the amber spyglass for me. nothing else came after it.#but if it does turn out decent then i will of course read it and hope for future seasons of tv adaptations!!#in the meantime... watch hdm a third time?? possibly too soon. but it'll probably happen anyway.

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definitearticle · 2 years

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Queen Elizabeth II has passed. May her memory be a blessing for those who mourn.

And for those who are unwilling subjects of the crumbling empire she led, may the transition of power lead to the elimination of the monarchy and your swift liberation.

#the Royal family are all parasites #feeding off of wealth stolen from the working class #the first time there was a King Charles they cut off his head and established a Commonwealth #maybe this time we cut back on the Cromwellian oppression of anyone not English

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ghoulphile · 24 days

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sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position.

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.��

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.”

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout smut #the ghoul x you #cooper howard x you #the ghoul #cooper howard #fallout #fallout fanfic

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blue-shark-named-blahaj · 2 months

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Hancock is self-appointed, but everyone accepts him as mayor. He runs the only town in the commonwealth accepting of people of any kind, be it folks running from the past or those who seek it. He wears clothes resembling someone of his name, despite that person several hundred years before his time. The way he's introduced is by killing someone because they were being a scumbag. He won't allow any of his people to get replaced by synths, but he is accepting of Nick, somebody who is clearly a synth. He's fine with people doing whatever, as long as it's not harming the good people in his town (ok with you killing people as long as you have probable cause). He's one of the only good leaders in the commonwealth. If you're friends with him he'll randomly give you chems.

He's literally The Guy Ever.™

(I just want to say, I still haven't finished the game, feel free to add on or correct me)

#john hancock #fallout 4 #fo4 #fallout #john hancock fo4 #how did this word jumble break 300 notes

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fahye · 2 months

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US cover reveal: SWORDCROSSED

are we readyyyyyyyyyyy

Illustration by Cynthia Sheppard, art direction by Christine Foltzer. Yes those are RED SPRAYED EDGES and yes this is a ROMANCE CLINCH.

High heat. Low stakes. Sharp steel.

Mattinesh Jay, dutiful heir to his struggling family business, needs to hire an experienced swordsman to serve as best man for his arranged marriage. Sword-challenge at the ceremony could destroy all hope of restoring his family’s wealth, something that Matti has been trying—and failing—to do for the past ten years. What he can afford, unfortunately, is part-time con artist and full-time charming menace Luca Piere. Luca, for his part, is trying to reinvent himself in a new city. All he wants to do is make some easy money and try to forget the crime he committed in his hometown. He didn’t plan on being blackmailed into giving sword lessons to a chronically responsible—and inconveniently handsome—wool merchant like Matti. However, neither Matti’s business troubles nor Luca himself are quite what they seem. As the days count down to Matti’s wedding, the two of them become entangled in the intrigue and sabotage that have brought Matti’s house to the brink of ruin. And when Luca’s secrets threaten to drive a blade through their growing alliance, both Matti and Luca will have to answer the question: how many lies are you prepared to strip away, when the truth could mean losing everything you want?

Preorder US (October 8th)

Preorder UK (October 10th)

Add on Goodreads

(UK/Commonwealth readers, there'll probably be a different cover for us, so watch this space! Or subscribe to the author newsletter to get all the essential updates.)

#swordcrossed #freya marske #it's so beautiful!!#will I ever get sick of marketing this #with YES THE SWORDS DO CROSS #while sniggering #signs point to no

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 2 months

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You were ambling back to your shitty little apartment, dripping with mud, and sweat, and gore from the Commonwealth's version of "community service." When you looked up toward your building, you were surprised to see Daryl standing there waiting, his crossed arms highlighting his broad shoulders. You sighed, wondering if you were about to get a scolding.

He seemed to just look you up and down for a long moment, taking in the splatters of walker blood all over you. "Heard ya got assigned clean-up duty," he drawled. "What the hell happened?"

You scoffed. "You mean what did I do?" He nodded. "I—I may have punched Sebastian in the face after he made a disgusting and offensive comment..." You sank down on one of the concrete steps and waited for his reaction.

"That spoiled little shit?" Daryl asked. You nodded. He sighed and sat down next to you. "'M sure he deserved it. How many hours did they give you?"

"Thirty," you said.

"You're lucky they didn't banish you. Kid is like fuckin' royalty or some shit."

You tilted your head. "Kind of. Except I think his mother is equally as disgusted with his behavior most of the time..." Daryl hummed his agreement. You glanced over at him. "Can I tell you something?'

He nodded. "'Course."

"I kind of fucking hate it here."

A wry laugh left Daryl and he nodded. "Ya don't say..."

"Something about this place feels... off. Something's wrong. Or rotten. I don't know..." you trailed off, looking across the street at the dilapidated apartment buildings where they shoved the lowest class of people. "I know I should probably feel more grateful. There are walls and more reliable food and... but I just—I kind of wish I was back on the outside. It was... freedom. Sometimes terrifying and frequently hard and awful, but freedom." You glanced over at Daryl again and he had a queer expression on his face. "You think I'm nuts?" you laughed.

He shook his head. "Nah. Hell no. Ya just said everythin' I've been feelin' too. Somethin' is rotten in here. Ya ain't wrong."

"Are we trapped?" you asked in a low voice, a shot of anxiety causing your heart to beat erratically for a brief moment.

"Us?" Daryl repeated. "Fuck no. We ain't ever gonna be trapped. Everythin' we've already been through? They've got another damn thing comin' from us if shit goes south." He climbed to his feet and held out a hand to pull you to yours. "Listen, if that little prick comes sniffin' around ya again, ya lemme know. I'll take care of it. Try and keep yerself out of trouble."

You smiled at him and shrugged. "Being one of those Stormtroopers give you some kind of immunity?"

He shrugged. "I doubt it. But I'll deal with that asshole so you dun gotta. I'd love the excuse..."

"Alright," you laughed. "Deal."

He nodded and gave you a tight smile. "Try and get some sleep," he said.

"Yeah... you too."

Prompt: "Can I tell you something?"

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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stoat-party · 4 months

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More Obscure Facts About Fallout 4 Companions*

*Now with slightly more unverified psychoanalysis!

X6 gets anxious at the thought of large crowds.

Codsworth likes to imagine being a father to a little robot son. Hang on, buddy, I’m getting my six hundred pounds of scrap metal out of storage.

MacCready seems to have lived in Bigtown for some period of time, or at least visited enough to have memories there. Also, the Lone Wanderer (or one of their companions/Sidney) told him about their encounter with Button Gwinnett.

Despite having little empathy for the people of the Commonwealth, Cait often becomes distressed imagining the victims of the bombs, especially when children are involved.

Danse believes that pre-war healthcare and scientific research should have been publicly owned. He hates corporations in general, especially Vault-Tec.

Nick not only loves poetry, but he’s also able to recite several famous poems such as Ozymandias and The Raven. He’s very sad to see destroyed books at the library.

It’s been confirmed by a non-Deacon source that he spent a month as a ghoul. (Somehow.) NPC dialogue implies that he was telling the truth about disguising himself as a woman for awhile, too.

Apparently Piper was a complete nightmare as a child. She would steal her dad’s pistol, shoot the combat inhibitors off robots, and let them run through town.

There’s some sort of debate in the fandom about whether Curie was originally a Miss Nanny or a Mister Handy, but she confirms in dialogue that she was a Miss Nanny.

Nick can feel pain! :(!

Deacon likes molerats, hates killing them, and wishes he could domesticate them. He should visit Sloan.

A probably incomplete list of things Danse wishes he could do: Fishing, watching a movie, playing/watching baseball, seeing a show at an amphitheater, bowling, shopping

TBH I was wrong on the last post. Preston doesn’t like swimming, his dialogue is tagged as sarcastic there. In my defense, he’s got depression and tends to speak flatly. That means that not one single companion likes to swim, except Strong who doesn’t care.

Despite maintaining there’s a difference between robots and synths, Nick believes in robot rights and often encourages robots not to think of themselves as slaves.

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neine · 4 months

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References in 1670 (Updated)

General info

Names

Jan Paweł - is a reference to a pope, Jan Paweł II. He's considered "the greatest polish person", up to a comical point. So he turned into a meme.

Jakub - A reference to a saying "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you". In polish "Jak Kuba bogu tak bóg Kubie". Literally "As Kuba to god, god to Kuba".

Jędrula - A reference to a show about Foster family, to a character that liked to drink whiskey.

Andrzej - A stereotypical neighbour, where he has everything better than you.

Żmija - A reference to Ojciec Mateusz, a show about a priest solving crime, played by Artur Żmijewski (hence the name). Żmija is from Sandomierz, that's where Ojciec Mateusz was set. (From multiple people, @rabarbarzcukrem mainly.)

Historical background

Poland was going into a sort of a recession. It used to be one of the most powerful countries in Europe. As well as Lithuania, of course. Time of the Commonwealth. The plague didn't hit the Commonwealth as much because it wasn't densily populated. The biggest issue (one of many) were the tatars, who just kind of lived there. Usually were bribed into gaining some power in the country so they won't couse trouble. Lithuania was getting Polonised, but it wasn't going as good as you could imagine. It's the time after the swedish flood, where the whole country was basically looted. It was considered a very open country, many Jews lived here.

Liberum Veto - it's just that one person can say no and whatever they voted on, won't pass. Also huge reason why partations later happened.

Culture

Drowning of Marzanna is a ritual that happens every year, on the first day of spring, to say goodbye to winter. Marzanna is a slavic goddess associeted with death, winter and nature. Marzanna is sometimes set on fire and then thrown into a river. + Interesting tags from @ukulelegodparent (From multiple people)

Hunting by nobles was also kinda a cultural thing. It was often described in the books from that time.

References

"Ała kurwa rzeczywiście" - reference to this

youtube

"Quo Vadis" - meaning, "Where are you going?", is a reference to novel by Henry SIenkiewicz. More known overseas from a movie adaptation from 1951. (From multiple people)

"My wife, Zofia" is a reference to a movie "Miś". (From @gdzie-rosna-poziomki)

youtube

"Do dupy z takim spiskowcem. Mnie kury szczać prowadzić, a nie spiski" is a reference to Piłsudski's "Wam kury szczać prowadzić, a nie politykę robić. (From @gdzie-rosna-poziomki)

"Ta zniewaga... oczekuje, abym ją wymazał stosując przemoc." - "This insult... expects me to earase it with violance." Reference to "Zemsta", by Aleksander Fredro, "Ta zniewaga krwi wymaga." - "This insult requires blood spill". (From @rabarbarzcukrem)

Measuring tassels - likely a reference to "Pan Tadeusz". In modern speach, tassels means dicks. (Also from @rabarbarzcukrem)

Jan Paweł walking on Zofia and Rozalia in bed, the deer antlers look like they're growing from his head. It's a reference to a saying "przyprawić komuś rogi" (also in use in multiple other languages). Which means to cheat on someone. (Multiple people, mainly @rabarbarzcukrem)

Equality march - It's how Pride Prades are called in Poland. (From @rabarbarzcukrem)

Henry kicking a fern flower is a reference to Slavic mythology. It symbolizes ferility and love. (Also from @rabarbarzcukrem) @misticfog adds to it here. (And some other things)

Stasia the mouner saying "Wszystkie kary na mnie idą" ("All punishments come to me") is a reference to this: (from @00midnightrider00)

youtube

(Quote happens in 1:20)

Thank you for all the additions!

Lorem Ipsum - is a placeholder text often used in web page design.

"Koń jaki jest, każdy widzi" - What a horse is everyone sees, is a reference to the first polish dictionary.

#1670 #Youtube

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celtic-crossbow · 5 months

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Is It Easier for You to Say You Never Loved Me Anyway?

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Commonwealth (Pre- France)

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; Angst; Poorly Written Smut

Summary: “We were built to fall apart and fall back together.” - Taylor Swift

A/N: Requested by @unhingedbiatch I hope this is what you were envisioning! Also, Leah never happened. Nope.

It was two days before he was set to leave when he saw you walk through the gates of the Commonwealth. His heart roared, stomach flipping at the sight of you after so many years. He knew he couldn’t approach you until you had been processed into the community, encouraging him to find Mercer and put a word in to speed things up. He had to see you.

Your relationship began as reluctant friends during the time at the quarry but blossomed into so much more by the time your eyes fell onto the prison. When your family found Alexandria, he was your everything. And you were his. The openness between you was never guarded, a secret garden where you each could travel when the world threatened to tear you down.

But as they say, nothing lasts forever.

The two of you separated after Rick’s death, Daryl unable to live with himself if he didn’t put everything into finding a body to lay to rest; you unable to remain in Alexandria under the knowledge that he was leaving you and had refused your offer to come along. He had broken your heart but you loved him no less for it.

Now Daryl waited for you, a nervous energy culminating inside him. He still loved you. He had never stopped. He felt as if you had taken half his heart with you when you left for your own travels, never knowing where that precious piece of him had been taken or if you’d thrown it away once you realized that he was never good enough to trust with half of your own.

When you walked out of the processing center a day later, he was there, having waited all night. When your eyes met his, they softened, your arms open before you could even reach him for the embrace both of you had yearned to return to during an absence you couldn’t take back.

“I missed ya.” Daryl whispered into your hair, his voice a rasp. You held him tighter with a feeling of both your hearts becoming whole in the safety of one another’s arms.

“I missed you too.”

It was as if you’d never left.

Daryl showed you around, smiles abundant and given freely without a care of who saw him; a change you wished you’d been around to see manifest. Maybe you were seeing its birth, your unexpected return being the catalyst that gave him enough security for others to see him as you always had.

You reunited with Carol and Judith, while meeting RJ for the first time. He filled you in on losses Aaron hadn’t already told you about. Promised you’d have plenty of time to catch up with everyone after the next day. You didn’t know then what that had meant.

It wasn’t until later that night, you on his lap and curled into his chest while he stroked your hair, that the demons hovering unseen while the sun had lit the path outside clawed their way into the space between you.

“Where’d ya go?”

“West. Stayed a while in Missouri, then headed southeast. Tennessee was a train wreck but there were some good people there.” You drew your knees a little closer to your chest, making yourself appear smaller against him. “Did you find him?” Daryl dropped his gaze and shook his head. The knowledge that he had left you for something he had failed to achieve was almost too much to bear.

“Did ya—did ya find someone out there?” He muttered, not yet finding the courage to look you in the eye.

“No.” You leaned back your head to find him staring off the side. You knew that look. You knew him like the back of your hand. With a fingertip against the far side of his face, you encouraged him to turn toward you. “I wasn’t out there looking for a replacement for you, Daryl.” He dipped his chin in a quick nod. “Did you? Find someone, I mean?

“Nah.” You couldn’t lie: you felt like you had been holding your breath in wait for that single answer. “Weren’t lookin’ neither.” The smile you gave him was tender and reassuring, your fingertip still brushing his cheek. You had even missed the rough feel of the stubble he always seemed to keep. “M’leavin’ tomorrow.”

Your ministrations ceased. “What?”

“Maggie. She had some info; some leads for me ta follow.” The contrition you could hear in his tone was almost enough to stave off your anger. “S’somethin’ I hafta do.”

“Just like you had to leave me last time?” You swung your legs around to stand up. “Let me go with you this time.”

He was already shaking his head. “Don’t know what’s out there. You’re safer here.”

“That’s the same bullshit you fed me last time, Daryl.” You were fuming now, pacing the area in front of him while he wouldn’t even meet your eyes. “I’ve been out there! I’m not staying behind again!”

“Y/N—”

“No! I had no say in this last time and it’s kept us apart for too long. I won’t do it again! Do you hear me? I won’t!”

“Didn’t know ya were gonna be here. Didn’t know ya even knew where to find me.”

“Aaron told me. I went to Alexandria first.” You knelt in front of him, ducking your head to urge him to look at you. “Please, Daryl. Please don’t do this to me again.”

“M’sorry.” He whispered.

You remained there, staring at him in disbelief. You had just found one another only to be separated again. Using his knees to shove yourself to your feet, you grabbed your coat and the key to your temporary apartment. The door hit the wall from the force of you throwing it open.

“Fuck you, Daryl.” You hissed. You didn’t bother closing the door, leaving him alone to listen to your retreating footfalls move further and further away.

Late evening saw Daryl packing the last of the things he would be taking with him. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, so he allowed himself several breaks. He was leaning against the kitchen counter chastising himself for not following earlier when there came a soft knock on his door. He had no reluctance to answer and found you standing on the other side.

“Hey.” You attempted a smile that didn’t quite manage to form. “Can I come in?”

“O’course.” Daryl opened the door a little wider and stood back to allow you to pass him, closing it behind you. He wasn’t sure how to approach you or why you had come back in the first place. “Y/N, I—”

You held up a hand to request his silence. “I know you’re not going to let me go. And I know why. I won’t claim to understand it, but I have no choice but to respect it.” You watched his head drop, not in relief but guilt, despair. He just knew he was losing you again. It didn’t take long for you to cross the minuscule space that separated you from him. “I’ll wait for you this time. Here, in this apartment. I’ll wait.”

Those perfect blue eyes were wide with hope when he lifted his head; they searched you for any indication of a lie. When he found none, he nodded curtly. “Be nice to have ya here, knowin’ you’re waitin’ an’ mad at myself for makin’ ya.”

“Good.” You mused, stroking a stubbled cheek with your knuckles. When you kissed him, he froze, body rigid. You knew him well enough to press onward, your knowledge rewarded when he settled and his arms wound around you. Fingers found their way into your hair while the other hand drew you closer from the small of your back. You were breathless when you pulled back, rubbing your cheek against his. “I’ve missed that.” Daryl hummed, allowing you a brief reprieve before his mouth was on yours again.

He walked you back toward the couch until the bend of your knees hit and you unceremoniously fell onto the cushions. Daryl followed your descent, chasing your lips. Palms on his chest, you pushed him back to shed your coat, your shirt following as he pulled his own over his head. As he worked his belt buckle open, you grazed your fingertips over the scars you knew by heart. Each ridge, each pucker, all a part of him.

When he began to push his jeans toward the floor, underwear in tow, you sat back and raised your hips to rid yourself of your own, leaving your lower half bare, only a plain black bra shielding the last bit of skin. His hands were on your ribs, pulling you onto his lap while he simultaneously seated himself. He couldn’t stifle the groan when he felt the heat of your core over his erection, a feeling he had missed and never sought from anyone else.

When you reached behind you to work open the clasp of your bra, the feeling of his fingertips on your sternum gave you pause. A new scar began in the valley of your breasts and stretched to your collarbone. It was left unspoken where you received it; a story for another time. You guided his hand to your lips, kissing the tip of each finger before drawing the middle digit past your lips. You hummed and swirled your tongue around the skin while shrugging off your bra.

Daryl’s mouth was on you in an instant, his hand falling away from your lips when they parted with a drawn out moan. He licked the curve of each breast with practiced expertise, suckling at each nipple while your hands fisted into his mane; gentle tugs urging him onward.

You began to ache for him in a fresh rush of heat. His hips jerked upward, jostling a needy whine from you. “Please.” You whispered, guiding him away from your chest to slot your mouth over his, chaste but hard. You kept your lips close, brushing his while you rubbed your noses together to maintain that contact. “I've waited long enough.”

The archer made a sound in the back of his throat, a growl that vibrated all the way down to where your heat slid over his cock. He need not release his bruising hold on the soft skin of your hips. He simply lifted you, shifted until the tip of him caught on your entrance and lowered you onto him. You remembered the stretch instantly, how your body always willingly molded around him. You were made for him, just as he was made for you.

He panted against your lips, no doubt in restraint. It had been so long, he was shocked he didn’t spill inside you before you were fully seated. You, though; you were just grateful to feel him. You were both back where you belonged, however brief it may be.

You moved first, a gentle rocking that made him hiss between his teeth. You didn’t stop, even feeling him begin to twitch within you. You feared how soon it would be over yet how you yearned to watch him fall apart. Daryl, on the other hand, was not willing for things to end so quickly. He worked his hand to where the two of you were joined and squeezed the bottom of his shaft.

“Cheater.” You pouted, shivering when he chuckled against your neck. You felt his hand slide away, slick and warm, fingers wet when he pressed them into your hip again. He helped you sit higher on your knees only to drag you down, his hips thrusting up to meet you. The push and pull of him inside you, had your head falling back in a series of ah ah ah.

He suckled a bruise onto one breast sliding his tongue over to the pebbled nipple, grazing his teeth against the sensitive bud, pulling sound after sound from you while he helped you bounce on his lap.

“I missed you.” Distantly, you knew there were tears and your cheeks were damp, a sudden melancholy blending and twisting its way into the pleasure he was eager to give you. You dropped your head forward, smiling wetly when you spotted the moisture shining in his blue eyes as well. The kiss was hard, sloppy, full of need; it was a trade-off of years of absence and love and longing.

His movements had slowed, calloused hands guiding you in a slow rolling atop of him. “Missed ya too.” His voice cracked, try as he might to keep his composure. It seemed wrong to feel the heat in your belly. Such a moment should be savored. You wanted to stop, keep him there inside you past the morning, never letting him climb on that bike.

Your body disagreed, slowly but surely barreling you toward that precipice. You whined, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He wouldn’t allow your hips to stop moving, urging you toward release.

“Wait.” He whispered, so soft yet with an intensity like you’d never heard from him before.

“I—can’t. I’m so close, Daryl. I need—”

He gripped your flesh, bringing you to a halt, willing you to look at him. When you did, the naked plea in his gaze took your breath away, extinguishing the steady build of pleasure to an ache that would never again be sated until he returned you.

“Wait for me. Please.”

You nodded, drawing him against you to openly sob against his hair. “I will. I promise.” You held him there, the quiet shake of his shoulders against you; the hot moisture dripping onto your skin while your own tears fell into his hair.

Why did you choose to return now? Why couldn’t you have come back years ago? He had been back from his isolation for so long, fighting and protecting all the people you loved and he had done it all without you. Because you were selfish. You followed your wounded pride as far away from him as you could. And when you came back, expecting he had moved on, actually hoping he had, he was waiting for you.

And now you would watch him leave you again. On a mission that was not his to undertake. You would never be able to talk him out of it. Daryl had this drive, this desire to protect. He felt like he owed everyone to ensure their happiness. This was for Judith and RJ. They deserved their family to be whole. Daryl had raised those kids in your absence, the role of surrogate father taken on willingly. Now he would try to return to them what they had been missing.

And you knew you couldn’t sway him.

So you cried. He cried. And when your tears ran dry, still on his lap with him softening inside of you, you pulled back and cupped his face, red-rimmed blue eyes seeking comfort and reassurance. You smiled, a genuine small upturn of your lips, and kissed him.

“I’ll wait forever if that’s what it takes. You just come back to me, Daryl Dixon.”

With a sharp inhale, he nodded while whispering his knuckles across your jaw. He was committing you to memory. Every freckle, every scar, the twinkle in your eyes, every line, every curve. He’d take it all with him.

You didn’t even react when he lifted you and gently placed you on your back, slipping out of you in the process. It took three strokes to bring him back to hardness. He guided himself to your entrance and thrust inside in one fluid motion, dragging a moan from you with you arching into his chest.

There was only desperation now, each hard thrust begging you to fall apart. And you would oblige. The way he slammed into you, his tip angled to probe that spot inside of you, had you clawing for purchase on his back, his shoulders, his arms.

“Daryl—oh my god, Daryl—I’m gonna—”

“Please.” He whispered against your ear. You were a goner. The pleasure was so intense that your eyes rolled back, vision alight with stars and shapes as your body vibrated to ride each wave. When you began to come down, you were thankful. His thrusts were prolonging your orgasm, a gentle thrum of pleasure that kept going and going as he chased his high. With teeth clenched, he pulled from within you just in time to paint your belly with warm ropes. He groaned above you, body trembling with the struggle of holding himself up as he spilled. He was left a panting mess of tremors that somehow found the strength to pull away from you.

He reached for his discarded shirt to gently clean you, having absolutely no intention of allowing you away from him to take care of the mess yourself. The task complete, he tossed the article to who knows where and sat back, pulling you onto his lap. There was a mutual hum of contentment as you melted into him.

“I promise I’ll wait.”

Watching him ride away was probably the hardest thing you had ever done in your life. The last time had been filled with anger and a deep jab of betrayal. This time was different. You had conceded to watch this, made a promise to be there when he came back.

He had held you, whispering in your ear while he smiled. It brought tears to your eyes. You nodded vigorously while he kissed you, laughing against his mouth.

And then he was gone in a cloud of dust and the roar of an engine.

But you would wait.

You promised.

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thewalkingthread · 6 months

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"I've been thinking" - D.D.

pairing: daryl dixon x f!reader

summary: After witnessing how good Daryl takes care of Judith and RJ, you think it's about time y'all have one of your own.

warning: fluff

a/n: I love soft Daryl.

You and Daryl had been through more than your fair share of hardships, having faced the trials of the apocalypse together. Your bond had only grown stronger over the years, and now, after the war in Commonwealth settled, you and your community found a place to call home. Despite the chaos of the world outside, you had finally had a semblance of peace and security among friends, new and old. Hell- you guys even had a dog now.

It was sunny today, Judith and RJ ran around on the street with some of the other kids. They screamed and hollered as they played tag, a heart melting smile spread across their faces. Just kids being kids.

You and Daryl sat on the front porch of your house with Dog. Daryl's crossbow rested against the wall as he sharpened the points of his arrows. You watched the kids, you had a smile that mirrored their contagious ones.

"You okay?" Daryl asked, his voice soft, he glanced at you briefly before he continued to work on his arrows.

You nod your head, your eyes still fixated on the kids. "I've been thinking,"

"That can't be good," Daryl scoffed, teasingly. You roll your eyes, reaching over and bumping his shoulder with your fist. "Bout wha?" He asks.

You shrug your shoulders, glancing down at the glass of water in your hands. "The future." You said simply.

Daryl looked up, curiosity evident in his stormy blue eyes. "The future, huh? What's on your mind?" He placed the arrow on the table, giving you his undivided attention.

"Well," You began, a faint blush coloring their cheeks, "I've been thinking about this for a while, but it never seemed like the right time. I mean these past few years have been so... crazy." You wince.

"But now, everything feels right. We're safe. Here, in commonwealth. The kids are safe here, we've got something good going. Something real." You hated saying it, knowing you felt the exact same way with the prison, with Alexandria. I don't think anywhere in this world would ever be safe, but here felt like it.

"We've been dealt some shitty cards. With Rick and Michonne gone, we've basically been given all their responsibility. I know we have to lead these people. I know we have to keep Jude and RJ safe. But I can't help but notice how great you are with Judith and RJ. You're a natural, Daryl. We take care of them like they're our own and-" Your voice trails off, losing the confidence to finish.

"Spit it out, woman." He grunts, staring into your eyes knowingly.

"I want to expand our family... Have one of our own?" You raise an eyebrow, "I wouldn't mind a little Dixon running around."

Daryl paused, his hands grasping yours. He looked at you with the softest eyes, his heart swelling with love and tenderness. "You serious?"

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. "Yeah, Daryl. I am. I think we're ready. I mean you're obviously going to be one hell of a dad."

Daryl's rough exterior couldn't hide the softness that your words had brought out in him. He scooted closer to you, holding both of your hands tightly in his. "You really think that?"

You smiled, your love for Daryl shining in your eyes. You've been with Daryl from the beginning. Him and Merle found you alone in a convenient store the day everything went to shit. After months of pining over each other you finally bit the bullet at the prison and made it official. Though the two of you been through hell the past 10 years you're here, together.

"Absolutely. I've seen the way you protect and care for those kids, the way you take care of me. It makes my heart ache with how much I love you. We're building something here. I want to start a family with you."

Daryl leaned in, capturing your lips with a tender kiss. It felt just like it did the first time all those years ago. "I love you too, Y/N. Let's do it. We'll make it work, no matter what. Us against the world. The way it's always been."

His arms wrapped around your body and pulled your close to him.

"Are you two okay?" Judith's voice caused the two of you to pull away from each other. Her eyebrow was raised suspiciously at you two. You and Daryl both burst into a fit of chuckles.

"How would you feel helping Auntie Y/N out with a baby?" Daryl's voice was scuffed. Judith's eyes just about popped out as she jumped into y'alls lap.

"Yes, yes, yes!" She cheered. "About time!" She laughed. Dog barked, oblivious to what was happening but happy to see everyone happy.

You and Daryl exchanged amused glances. Deep down inside you both knew you'd be okay. Whatever happened next, you'd handle it together.

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galoogamelady · 7 months

Note

Dunno if this is something you've been asked before but how does our favorite post apocalyptic beanboy and his most excellent gal celebrate Halloween in the Commonwealth?

It's been a long time since we talked about this in detail (probably in 2014-15?) but I think we established that many traditional American holidays were lost in the Great War (people were more concerned with surviving, obviously). A lot of these celebrations were kept alive by Vault residents however. Buttons does his best to inspire his fellow Arefu settlers to celebrate Halloween to some extent and Meg plays along, even if it makes no sense to her. The budget Brahmin has to be my favorite Halloween post so I did a quick redraw: