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faustianfascination · 21 hours

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Giftee: @koco-coko OC: Pyetrovna Ilyich Tchaikovsky

Here's my gift as part of Mayday! Heyday hosted by @olivermorningstar & @lorei-writes

Thank you both for hosting this event! It's been fun and quite a challenge.

@koco-coko Tchai is a really lovely character to work with and I hope you enjoy :)

Prompt: Oak Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Tchai & Mozart (platonic) Hurt/Comfort 1492 words

Summery: Mozart comes to realise that perhaps he should not have underestimated Tchai. Perhaps the porcelain composer was stronger than he gave her credit for.

************

The sound flowing through her body danced the line between joyful and painful, Tchai’s tremors had finally subsided enough to allow her movement more freedom, this composition she had desperately wanted to implement into a ballet. The music echoed through the old stone walls, her body flowing in perfect synchronisation with the strings. Movement, to graceful movement guided by a sound that felt like spring itself had begun to sing, the voices of the flowers in the garden translated into a perfectly light, airy moment of sonic perfection. The flowing fabrics of her delicate dress like a gown of petals dancing around her pale form, Tchai was a dancing spring bloom personified.

So entranced by the moment, the union of her body and the music Tchai didn’t notice his quiet approach. Footsteps measured and careful, Mozart often thought that approaching Tchai was like approaching a terrified baby deer. Ready to flee at the slightest disturbance and moments like this the thought of her fleeing made his heart ache. He was here to apologise after all. He stood at a distance, simply watching as she danced and played with a grace and elegance that was simply otherworldly. But here, in all her colours and all her fragility she looked like a fairy queen singing to her flower kin, summoning the most peaceful of spring days with her beautiful music and precise movements. The light pouring in from the window behind her making her look all the more ethereal, like an illusion that would vanish the moment he got too close.

Mozart didn’t like to admit he was wrong, but he knew while watching her that he was certainly very wrong in the way that he had treated her. Tchai was like a delicate doll, but as he watched her skill, her passionate ability to draw heavenly sound from her strings and incredibly skilled movements from her body he realised that treating her only as a doll, did her quite the disservice. He thought her to be a dandelion, so easily shaken to pieces, but before him was no dandelion. The fairy queen in front of him had the fortitude and disposition of an oak. She may look weak but her roots were deep and no matter how the wind would batter her, she would never be downed by it. Her raw fingers evidence of that absolute strength that was the temper of her soul.

The fairy queen danced with a strength that he knew he would never truly possess and a talent that dazzled him. Even if she didn’t know when to stop. There was the core of his frustration, he hated seeing her in pain, but getting her to stop was so very difficult. That’s why he had snapped so furiously at her and now why she broke into tears at the sight of him. He deserved it, but it hurt, mostly because of how much he had hurt her. He slowly made his way to the piano in the room and hovered over the keys, letting himself get lost in her tune and began to play along. Time seemed to stand still in that moment, he felt the joyful interplay in their melodies. But he got too lost, only being shaken out of his trance but the sudden stop of her playing and the stillness as she seemed to realise that he was there. She stood still, like a deer in a hunter’s gaze. And like a deer, she fled at the sight of him.

A few days earlier:

“Tchai, slow down you need to rest” Mozart said as gently as he could despite the headache pounding his skull. They’d been composing for hours, lost in creative fervour. Tchai’s body had long begun to tremor legs giving out as she cradled her violin on the music room floor, her fingers raw as she kept playing and refining one particular piece of the work. Entranced by her task, she felt like she was disconnected from the pain, her soul liberated from her rebellious body as she existed in sound, trying to figure out the last piece of the complex puzzle. So close, she was so close to solving the puzzle, she could feel that she had nearly weaved it all together. Every change leading to the solution, ever delicate finger movement that caused the slightest change in tone and intonation, building a path to the perfect sonic moment, she nearly found that change that needed to be made that would bring together the music perfectly. So close, she was so close and as she moved her fingers to make that final adjustment-

“TCHAI, FOR GODS SAKE WILL YOU STOP. YOU’RE TOO WEAK TO BE DOING THIS. GIVE IT UP ALREADY” Mozart’s voice crashed into her senses with a force that made her already overloaded system collapse. The tremors were overtaking her body and she felt his voice painfully rip through her body.

All she could think of was fleeing, so much that she began to drag herself across the floor. It had all overwhelmed her so much that she passed out. She had no recollection of how she got back to the castle, only coming to as Faust was giving her some medicine but all she could feel was embarrassment. Mozart yelling at her like that had hurt deeply. So much so she avoided him every time he tried to see her. It was a cut too deep coming from him.

Present:

She had fled to the garden with Svetlana now settled on her lap, just letting the soft sounds of the rustling leaves and the scent of flowers comfort her. Tchai hated how much she cried, how emotional she was. She had spent a lifetime feeling guilty over not being able to toughen up, of being soft and sensitive. Tears welling were a familiar feeling, her eyes almost seemed to be on the verge of tears no matter what. Everything made her emotional. She was frail, pathetic, every voice that had ever told her how she needed to be tougher, meaner, thicker skinned swirled in her mind until she remembered something.

There was a poetry book in the castle, Vlad had bought it from the future and she had opened it up one day to a page that had stuck in her mind whenever the phrase ‘thin skinned’ came into her mind. Her melodic voice began to recite it

“i don't want to grow a thick skin i want my skin to stay as thin as it was made and everything outside of that to be softer…”

The words hung in the air, unbeknownst to her Mozart had heard the words too. They struck him like a gale, because as much as he struggled with her overly emotional responses…her voice interrupted his thoughts

“What is so wrong with that Svetlana, why is wanting things to be softer, kinder so very wrong? I don’t want to change, because I’m not the one that’s broken or wrong. Why should I?” She quietly confided in her feline friend, unaware of the other vampire hovering near.

“You shouldn’t” Mozart said.

He came over and sat near her. She was too tired to flee him again, and she didn’t want to. The look of contrition on his face made her heart squeeze so she stayed still and let him continue.

“Being soft, or emotional is not a bad thing. Even if I don’t understand it and sometimes lack the patience to deal with it, you’re not the one who is wrong. I should not have been so harsh with you. So condescending…” His downcast eyes hinting at the shame he’d felt over the whole thing, he was truly sorry. It was evident in his features.

“I often tend to think of you as a delicate doll, so fragile that you need to be wrapped in wool and kept safe. That you are so frail that the slightest breeze could shatter you. However, after watching you today I came to realise something. Strength comes in many forms and I have rather been ignorant to not recognise yours.”

As he took a breath Tchai felt tears begin to roll down her face, this time not of fear or sadness, but a quiet joy. A recognition from someone who she admired, respected, loved. It was a simple moment, but it meant the world to be seen. For once, she didn’t feel guilty about her tears.

“Although, I will never stop worrying about you, I don’t want to see you in pain, I will do my best not to underestimate you. Even if I am a tad blunt about it” he said, finally looking her in the eye. Mozart took his handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her so she could wipe away the rivulets flowing from her eyes and they shared a quiet moment in the flowers, her smile brighter than the sun in the sky.

---

AN: the poem is by Brianna Pastor

#OCExchange2024 #ikemen vampire #ikevamp oc #ikevamp tchai #ikevamp mozart #mayday heyday #word limits are my nemesis

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kaizoku-musume · 1 day

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Mayday Hayday Gift Exchange

I had the absolute pleasure of participating in this years' Ikeseries gift exchange hosted by @olivermorningstar and @lorei-writes, and I got the wonderful @tulipsaisle for my giftee. She has a wonderful OC that was fun to write about and I hope I did her justice. Thank you all for the opportunity to join in on this amazing experience!

Shiloh scratched the tabby cat’s back, taking a break from running her stall at the day’s slow peak. It was so heartwarming for her attention to be rewarded with purring delight and affectionate head bumps.

Paying attention to the cat also had the added benefit of Shiloh being able to ignore Nokto Klein.

“Shi-loooooh,” Nokto sing-songed as though he’d not been yapping for the past five minutes about his latest conquest at some ball he just attended. Couldn’t he have picked a more interesting topic? It’s not like Nokto wasn’t a great storyteller: the way he could draw in a crowd as he utilized his honey-smooth voice and descriptive embellishments was near unparalleled, but he so often wasted his talents by telling tales no one wanted to hear, least of all Shiloh.

“Did you hear something, Minou?” Shiloh cooed at the cat, “All I heard was the wind. If only it would blow its hot air somewhere else, huh?”

“Come now, I’m sure there are better ways for me to put my mouth to use than just blowing air, hmmm?” Nokto purred. Shiloh clucked her tongue and turned her face away so he couldn’t see her red cheeks. She always struggled to think up a good comeback when he toed the line of vulgarity like that.

“Be honest, dear,” Nokto said, angling his body to try and catch a peek of her face, “is a cat you see every day really more interesting than a prince specifically stopping by to visit you?”

“Oh, of course not,” Shiloh waved Nokto off. She took a small toy mouse out of the pocket of her dress (it was worth making friends with the best seamstress in town) and tossed it on the ground for Minou to play with. “If Licht were to stop by, I’d be happy to sit him down for some tea and snacks.”

“Just Licht?” Nokto prompted.

“Well, there’s also Leon, Jin, Yves,” Shiloh counted on her fingers as she listed everyone aside from Nokto, “I heard Prince Keith is a good conversationalist and knows a lot about flowers, I wouldn’t mind picking his brain about them, and there’s-”

“I think I get it,” Nokto said dryly, “so foxes rank pretty low under cats with you.” He reached out to boop Minou’s nose, causing the cat to scrunch her face adorably. “What am I going to have to do to make you change your mind?”

Shiloh raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. “Do you really think you can compare with Minou’s gentle sweetness? Her precious curled feetsies?”

“I don’t think any human can compare to that,” Nokto admitted. That was suspicious. Usually he didn’t give up so-

“But I can show you a different kind of pleasure that’s just as delightful.”

-soon. “Unless you’re talking about the pleasure of silence, I’m not interested,” Shiloh said, dusting her dress as she stood up, ready to refocus on her shop.

Nokto laughed and said, “I’ll get you to admit my charms one day, Miss Hayes.”

* * *

“Ugh!” Shiloh groaned as she fanned herself with her hand, “Why can’t spring last longer?” Maybe she should upgrade from an outdoor stall to a shopfront-then she’d have more than just shade to protect herself.

At least she wasn’t suffering alone. Nokto had shown up minutes ago, having heard the same thing from Celine, the seamstress, about a surprise showing up around now. And Nokto wasn’t any better in the heat than she was. “I can easily say this isn’t my preferred method of working up a sweat,” he agreed, asking for the second time, “Are you sure you don’t want to close up and go to a cafe? I’d never imply you were anything other than a delight to look at, but you’re turning a shade of red that even I normally can’t get out of you.”

“No thanks,” Shiloh stood her ground, though there was a part of her that couldn’t deny being tempted, “but if you can’t handle it, I won’t think less of you for needing to escape to safety.”

“Such a kind offer. But I’m not callous enough to leave you out here all by yourself. Why, what if you were to feel faint under the-” Nokto sputtered a bit when Shiloh frantically shushed at him to be quiet, flapping her hands in his face. She’d just spotted Celine’s surprise trot around the corner.

“Oh. My. God!!!” she shrieked, taking in the sight of Minou in the most adorable little getup Shiloh had ever seen. Never in a million years would Shiloh ever imagine she’d see Minou in a dress, but here she was, watching the tabby proudly prance over to her, wearing a tiny, flowery-there were roses! And junipers!-green sundress, perfectly sized and aimed at making Shiloh lose her mind with cuteness overload.

“Well, that’s certainly something,” Nokto observed over Shiloh’s gushing, “That must have been a struggle, to wrangle a cat into that outfit.”

“It’s worth it,” Shiloh declared in awe, “she’s the most precious thing I’ve ever seen. And such a good idea! How many people would jump on the idea of outfits for their pets? Celine could start a whole line of clothing for pets-the fabric and labour costs would be much lower, too. Oh, she’s brilliant!”

Nokto watched on as Shiloh began muttering about the process of the fashion industry and how it can accommodate Celine’s project. “This is what gets you going, is it?” he chuckled in amusement, “Regular clothes just aren’t enough for you anymore so now you need a tiny version to get excited over?”

Shiloh cut off her rambling, a hand on her hip as she addressed Nokto, “When a new line drops, I’ll be all too happy to talk your ear off about it. Don’t for one second think I’ve given up one of my big loves in life. But come on!” she gestured toward Minou, who was in the middle of grooming herself, “I challenge you to find anything cuter than a cat in a dress.”

“Sounds like a tough challenge,” Nokto said, a sudden gleam in his eyes, “what do I get if I win?”

That didn’t sound good at all. Shiloh eyed Nokto warily, wondering what the tricky fox was up to. But it wasn’t like she could take it back-withdrawing now would just make it look like she thought Nokto could actually do it. She would have to face this head on. “If you can succeed, I’ll take you up on one of your non-sexual! invitations.”

Nokto’s grin made her immediately regret her words. “Sounds like a deal. I hope you keep to your word.”

Ah, great. Shiloh blamed her poor decision on the awful heat.

* * *

Well, today was the day. Nokto had messaged Shiloh to let her know he was ready to show her something cuter, and Shiloh could only hope that he came up with something perverted; it would be a pain to deal with, but at least she lose and be dragged along on whatever plan he had up his sleeves. All Shiloh could do was count down the minutes until the time Nokto promised to arrive, her eyes boring holes at the street corner he should come down.

She’d wracked her brain, trying to think of every possibility available, but when Nokto finally rounded that corner, she realized nothing could prepare her. Shiloh slapped her palm over her mouth to stop herself from bursting out laughing at the sight before her.

“Well?” Nokto twirled for her, the hem of the dress he wore flaring out with the motion, “What do you think?”

“Wh-why?” Shiloh wheezed behind her hand, still struggling not to laugh despite the realization that the dress actually looked good on Nokto. He’d gotten it tailored to his measurements and picked a colour that went well with his skin tone, so he was clearly taking it seriously . . . kinda. Nokto hadn’t passed up the opportunity to be as, well, slutty as possible: the dress was a slinky little number, the neckline was cut as low as physically possible, and there was a slit along his right thigh nearly to the waist, revealing pantyhose of all things! Why was he like this?!

Nokto struck a couple of unnecessarily sexy poses, “Because it’s clear that the only thing cuter than a cat in a dress is a fox in a dress, wouldn’t you say?”

Shiloh had a lot she wanted to say, such as “but you’re not an actual fox” and “then why didn’t you wear a cute dress?”, but none of that mattered more than telling him, “There’s no way this counts.” Nokto just smirked, like he was prepared to debate this all day if he had to, and Shiloh knew, with a dawning sort of horror, that she’d sealed her fate the moment she set up that condition.

Maybe she could still get something out of it if she convinced Nokto to wear a dress to whatever party he wanted to drag her to-at least that would give her something positive to look forward to in the face of her crushing defeat.

#ikepri #ocexchange2024 #mayday heyday #my fics #first time i've written something for someone else #i didn't expect it to be this exciting and nervewracking #nokto klein

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calaathmaza · 2 years

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Cala 3B?

pov: you're in an audience with the emperor and the maza-nohecharis gives you this look wyd

ID: a digital drawing of cala athmaza from the goblin emperor. he is a thin elf with pale skin, a long face, a large nose, and pale hair in a braid over his shoulder. he wears layered robes, a nohecharis baldric, a drop and hoop earring, and circular glasses. he is leaning against a wall, arms crossed, and his expression is deeply unamused. the background is a vague suggestion of an audience room with paneled walls and curtains. end ID

from this expression meme!

#the goblin emperor #tge #cala athmaza #yknow i am very self-conscious about my art and it is difficult to remind myself i am not crap- BUT #every time i draw cala i am just filled with a sense of pride. i love him hes my favorite and i am such a fan of the way i draw him #it comes so easily i could draw him all day #thanks for requesting my boy<3 #continuing @deretbeshelar's honored tradition of the lil drazhada kitty face #very excited by the other requests i have received!! it will be slow going but i have seen them!#my art #described #ask #expression meme #another-white-hole

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dizzykss · 8 months

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distracting dreams. longer name. könig notices you avoiding him. and it doesn’t take long for him to figure out that it’s all because of a little dream you had. marks. fingering. pussy play. semi-public. slight age gap

you couldn’t meet könig’s gaze for the entire day. the one time you did get a glimpse of him, his arm reaching over to grab a gun or a vest or something that you weren’t really paying attention to, your mind started whirring. your little dream had come back to, despite your inner protest, the memory of könig’s hands sliding down between your thighs made your stomach clench. heat making your cheeks flushed, along with your nose.

könig had noticed this change in your expression, as he eyes you. this only seemed to make your mind run laps, remembering the way his thick fingers jammed into you, while his heavy bulge kept nudging against your widened legs. fuck. in that moment you spared him a small smile and quickly turned to take business elsewhere.

as the day got later, your pussy craved for something that you knew you’d never get. i mean how pathetic can you get? honestly. but what you hadn’t realized was how attentive könig was to you. having been your mentor and supervisor he had grown a keen eye to your habits. you had never minded making eye contact before, or at least as much. but now you actively avoided it. and when könig made the mistake of letting his gaze drop he saw the way your thighs clenched tightly together.

he wasn’t a stupid man, he knew what that meant. and though the clear age gap and status provided you both with a clear ‘forbidden zone’, könig couldn’t help but keep looking. you were a pretty girl. könig also wasn’t blind. he knew the random stares you got, the passing compliments. he hadn’t thought much of it, but as he soon became aware of your dire need to avoid him he grew curious.

“i need to speak to you.” könig says to you in his normal professional manner that has you thinking you’re in the clear. but the moment you two end up alone he draws in close, far too easily lifting you onto the nearby table. your eyes expand as his large hands holds your thighs apart, and around his hips. “why are you avoiding me?” his question is simple. but you’re too awestruck to come up with a lie as you just gulp.

he’s testing a theory. your avoidance of eye contact, flushed cheeks, and clenched thighs all lead to something that is making könig second guess himself in thinking his plan is all for research purposes. did he want you like this? did he like the fact that you looked so flustered?

“alright, answer me this then. what did you dream about the other night?” his straight to the point question is nothing like the könig you knew. in fact this whole ‘confrontation’ is anything but. he doesn’t waste his time conversing in deep detail, or asking any questions that lead to said conversations. his question is followed by your further silence. what were you supposed to say? ‘yeah, i dreamt of you fucking me until i could barely breathe’.

“it’s a simple question.” he speaks again, and this time you can feel your body come to life. but not in the way of action in more of a reaction to his hands now stroking your thighs. his hands can practically encompass them. that only seems to make your inability to speak more prominent. “if you aren’t going to say anything, i’m going to start assuming.”

yeah, maybe his ‘plan’ is turning into something more. he wanted to know what was bothering you. that if he touched you this close would you react with disgust or as you are now? but now his mind seems to wander. if he’s right about you fantasizing about him, and if you won’t talk, there’s only one way to understand more.

you can’t comprehend a thing as his hand slips down between your thighs and begins to rub right against your covered pussy. your mouth salivates as your hands grip on the material of his shirt. könig watches you closely as your gaze darts down in surprise, your lips parting. his fingers drag against your cunt as your hips instinctively shudder. yeah…he knows.

his other hand then moves over to the button and zip of your pants, skillfully unbuttoning and unzipping until his hand can completely slide past your panties and graze right over your weeping pussy. a small gasp leaves you as your hips move a fraction, your head now practically rested on his chest as he stands. his calloused fingers do wonders to your clit and more choked sounds leave you.

you’re embarrassed. but at this point nothing much is going on in your mind besides the repeat of ‘könig is touching me’ ‘könig is touching me’. he doesn’t say a word as he then slips two fingers into your hole, the stretch making a louder mewl leave you. könig’s free hand presses against your mouth to quieten you, as he begins to fuck you with his fingers, your clothes muffling the wet drag of your seeping pussy.

his hips keep your thighs from shaking too much as you press against them for support, your forehead against his chest drawing you closer to him. “do not make a sound.” he whispers to you, as he removes his hold on your mouth, his hand slipping to partially soothe and hold your head.

könig can feel you squeezing around his fingers, your breathing telling him how close you are as his thumb rubs soothing circles on your clit. your orgasm crashes over you as you mouth opens, panting against him. he keeps thrusting his cum covered fingers into you as your hips grind as much as they can. after a moment, your orgasm slowly decreasing, könig mutters something. “is that why you were avoiding me today?”

you can’t tell if he’s disappointed or not. and you’re still too scared to look him in the eye. even more now, that his fingers are spreading your arousal and cum all over your pussy lips, his hand still in your pants. “i’m…sorry.” you manage, your embarrassment catching up to you. he doesn’t reply a moment as he keeps playing with your pussy lips slowly. “is that a yes?” he hums.

“…yes.” you murmur back. the moment you say this, his fingers slide right back into your hole making you gasp, and grip onto his arms. you finally gaze up at him, as he begins to finger you again. “w-what—“ you choke out as your eyes threaten to roll, the heat in your core returning. you don’t know his reason for thrusting his fingers back into you. because all he knows is that he wants to watch you cum again.

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Light On - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 🎄Simon has himself a merry little Christmas - for @glitterypirateduck's cod holiday challenge

Simon opens his eyes to an empty bed on Christmas morning.

His breath catches in his chest when his hand slides across the sheets, instinctively seeking the warmth of your body, only to discover your side of the bed empty.

His rational, tactical, professional mind tells him you've probably just gotten up with the baby. That for some reason, he slept too deeply and didn't wake up when she did this morning, like he usually does. You're in the guest room, Emmaline's room, now, or in the kitchen. Maybe you're already drinking your first cup of coffee. You're fine. The baby is fine. Nothing is wrong.

But his heart... his heart screams. Terror ices his veins, adrenaline and fear taking control of his gross motor skills, legs twisting beneath him as he stumbles out of bed and races for the door. They’re fine, they’re fine, they’re fine-

“Sweetheart?” His voice betrays him. He sounds stressed, anxiety piquing, frantically turning the corner into the kitchen. Not again, he can’t do this again, this can’t happen again…

It’s empty. The front door is still locked, and so is the patio’s, twinkling Christmas tree glowing in the late dawn light. His mind splits. Check Emmaline’s room, they’re probably in there, get control of yourself… and… the glock 19 is closest, should still be under the top shelf, call Price, mobilize the team-

“Simon?” He whirls at the sound of your voice, air rushing out of his lungs, drawing into a relieved laugh. Emmaline is on your hip in a green, white, and red striped elf costume, complete with a pointed hat, jingle bell dangling from the top. “Morning.” You smile, and so does the baby. “Santa’s elf wanted to surprise you.” You’re still a little sleepy, eyes tired, and he does a double take when he realizes you’re in your underwear and one of his t shirts.

“I’m… surprised.” Bloody hell. His brain isn’t working, his mouth rendering him stupid, still caught in fight or flight, and your lips subtly twist before your eyes soften, realization soft across your features.

“Are you okay?” You question, and he nods, not trusting himself to not say something else moronic, flailing in the silence, failing. It’s been weeks since he’s felt like this, inept, clumsy, senseless, too easily settled into a life with you after that pipe burst in your flat and practically delivered him a holiday miracle, a treasure deposited right into his lap. “Here,” you push Emma into his arms, soft fingers over top his as you hand her off, looking up at him with that level trust, adoration that you’re always providing him, in your eyes. Just holding Emmaline settles the anxiety in his heart, soothes the raw buzzing that’s tearing through his head, and you smile, butting your head into his shoulder and placing a kiss there. “Will you take her while I get dressed?”

“Yeah.” He croaks, as you squeeze his forearm, turning away. “Sweetheart,” he calls, stopping you in your tracks. He wants to tell you he thinks he loves you; he thinks he’d die without you; he thinks you’re the greatest thing he’s ever had, ever held, thinks you saved him, but nothing comes out. You hold his gaze for a second, and then two, before whispering.

“I know… me too.” Of course you do. You pause, cocking your head. “Could you make some coffee? Gonna be a long day.” You raise an eyebrow towards the Christmas tree, where all of Emma’s gifts sit perfectly arranged, and he nods. He can do that.

“Just three scoops of this,” he tells Emma, portioning out the coffee into the filter as she babbles at him from her perch in his other arm. “Mama likes it pretty strong, doesn’t she? And then some water, like this.” He pours the pitcher into the machine’s reservoir, flicking on the power and listening to the gurgle as he makes his way to the couch. He bounces Emma on his knee, little hands waving in the air, trying to grab the end of her hat and gnaw on it. The tree sparkles behind her, lights and ornaments all aglow, and she giggles when she tips herself forward, planting onto his chest with both hands. “Easy, baby girl.” Rolling onto her back in the crook of his arm, she squirms, smiling up at him, finger extended towards his chin. “What is it, eh?” He leans, and she pokes his cheek, cooing with a satisfied grunt. She fits so naturally in his side, just like you do, and he settles into the cushions, relaxing, allowing her to explore, tactile touch padding across his face, little fingernails scratching at his stubble.

“You two look cozy.” You murmur with a yawn, cup of coffee steaming in your palms. He smiles, and Emma lifts her head to look for you, tracking the sound of your voice. You perch at his other side, knees tucking up next to his hip, nestling your head against his shoulder, fingers tracing Emmaline’s cheek. “Whatcha doing sweet pea?” He brushes a kiss across the top of your head, and you sigh, arm wrapping around his stomach. "This is nice."

"It is." He agrees. It's more than nice, it's everything. Everything he didn't know was possible, everything he didn't know he wanted. It's nice, spending Christmas with his girls, cuddled up together on his couch in front of a Christmas tree that's loaded with presents for the baby. A Christmas, the holiday he used to shun… now brought back to life by you. Nice is a good word to describe it, but others flit through his mind as well: perfect, redeeming, salvation.

Purpose.

He takes a ragged breath, and you lean back to look at him, waiting.

"It's more than nice, sweetheart, it's... I... never thought, never dreamed this could happen in my life. You and Emmaline, you're... everything to me." He pauses, cradling your face, watching how your eyes shimmer with unshed tears. "I want," he swallows the lump in his throat. "I want you to stay. I want you to be here. Always." He needs you to stay, needs you like he needs air to breathe, needs you like he's never needed, never wanted, anything before in his life. He'd give you the world, if he could, wrap it up nicely and put it beneath the tree, but he doesn't know how to say that, how to explain.

He's grateful he doesn't have to.

"I'll be here, Simon. I'll be right here. With you." You take his hand, clutching onto him tightly. It's selfish, what he wants. Stupid. But he's not a good man... he's yours, and he'll be as wicked, as awful as he must to keep you and Emmaline safe. You're the only good thing about him now, and he'd dig himself free from a shallow grave all over again, just to crawl home to you. You've changed him, deeply. Fundamentally. Taught him the truth of love, of healing, your grief not so much different from his own, and he knows he'd die for you, he'd die for you ten thousand times.

Emmaline babbles at the sound of your voice, and you smile at her, not bothering to wipe away the tear that tracks down your cheek. "We're here. We'll stay. As long as you want us."

And christ, if that isn't the best Christmas gift he's ever be given.

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #codholiday2023

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

Note

I saw requests were open, and idk if this would be something up your alley, by I would like to see your writing for Alastor with a mommy kink!

a/n — Up my alley? UP MY ALLEY? BABES THIS IS THE WHOLE DOWNTOWN STREET.

I quite literally giggled and kicked my feet when I saw this because… yes?

Anyways though, I was so tired last night when I wrote this so I apologize if it’s shorter than you hoped.

“Ah— careful, my dear,” Alastor winced as you slid onto his cock. His hands were tied to the bed post, and the only thing giving him any illusion of control was his faltering grin.

It was incredibly rewarding to see him like this, open and defenseless against you. It was putting him on edge, you could tell easily from the way his shoulders tightened and his smile wrinkled down, ever so slightly.

“Relax,” you caressed his face with your thumb, “Mommy’s gonna take good care of you.”

You felt his dick twitch inside you, “Nngh, d—dearest, I—“

He’s cute off by an embarrassingly loud whine when you start rolling your hips.

He looks absolutely horrified at himself for the lack of power in the situation, but he doesn’t have time to think about it for too long before your cunt clenches down on his dick.

“Who knew the Radio Demon would sound so pretty in bed?” you tease as you speed up.

Alastor curses himself for the deep static-y moan that comes out. He hated feeling so desperate but he sure as hell loved your attention.

“You—ugh—“ He couldn’t focus with all the stimulation, “—this is perverted.” He stated it as if he wasn’t constantly letting out breathy moans.

“I know you love having mommy dote on you like this , Alastor,” you coo down at him and stroke his hair.

Alastors eyes widened at that comment, before he let out a needy whine.

“You want to be taken care of, pretty baby?” You hump his dick rougher, he nods vigorously. “Want me to praise you and tell you how good of a boy you are?”

He threw his head back into the pillow and kicked his feet out, struggling against the restraint around his wrists.

“Mommy, m—mommy, yes I want—“ his moans and whines are more apparent now as if he stopped trying to hide them.

“You want what, sweetheart?”

“I want—“ he tried again, struggling to collect his thoughts while you milked his sensitive cock. Sex wasn’t something he engaged in often so the sensations got to his head fast.

“Use your words, darling,” you bite your lip while you ride him.

“—I want you, mommy, I need you,” he finished, feeling as if he hadn’t articulated what he’d been trying too.

“Good boy, Alastor, telling me what you want.” You praise, running your hands over his chest.

He moaned pathetically. There was something so madly appealing to him about you calling yourself his ‘mommy.’

Some part of Alastor, deep inside of him, yearned to be praised and cared for. It had been almost an eternity since anyone had done so.

He whined your title in useless slurs, calling out for more. More of what? He didn’t know. He just craved your attention, your touch, your affection, like a starved man.

Your hands roamed his body, along with your lips, while you pussy drank up his cock. His whimpers were getting more frequent and staticky with every hip thrust and bite.

You sensed his climax building from the way he squirmed underneath the restraints of the wrist binds and bucked his dick up into you subconsciously.

In truth, you could feel your own orgasm approaching as well, but you wanted to draw out this for as long as possible. After all, it’s not every day you have the Radio Demon whining for your approval.

“Mommy, ‘m almost there, ‘m so close,” He moaned, still squirming and biting his lip to hold back his release.

His eyes searched yours for the approval to cum, but it wasn’t there.

Instead, finding a vague sympathy as you continued grinding down on his dick, “I know, sweetheart, I know. You’re just going to have to wait, though.”

He whined miserably and kicked his feet. He didn’t like this answer, but for whatever reason he didn’t want to disappoint you.

“Your going to have to wait til after I cum baby,” You explain, breathlessness creeping into your voice, “Until then you’ll just have to be my good boy. How’s that sound?”

He nodded his head weakly, wincing at all of the attention on his cock as he tried to hold back.

You speed up, going fast enough for your orgasm to approach but not fast enough for it to be over to soon.

“Being so good for mommy, Al,” you coo, “Such good control, making mommy feel so good.”

The sides of his mouth look like they ache after smiling through all of this, but he whines regardless.

His eyes are half lidded and needy, his hair stuck to his sweaty forehead while the ties around his wrists dug into his skin.

When you finally let go, you throw your head back and moan, still humping his cock but humming softly, satisfied with your orgasm and equally proud of Alastors restraint.

“Please,” Alastor whimpers, trying his hardest to lean up into your touch before being stopped by the ropes, “Please, mommy, now.”

“My pretty baby, of course you can—“ you didn’t even finish your sentence before being cut off by he’s loud desperate moan.

He came almost immediately after getting your approval and then fell back into the mattress, whispering quiet phrases of ‘Thank you, mommy,’

You pulled yourself off of him and laid down next to him on the bed. After untying the ropes around his wrists you take him in your arms and stroke his hair.

“You did so good for me, sweetheart. ‘m so proud of you,” you spoke softly in his ears.

Alastor didn’t say anything, only letting out a small hum of contentment and burying his face in your neck.

You take one of his hands in yours and observe the light bruise the restraints left of his wrist. You rub your thumb against the injury and he winces. For a moment, you’re worried they were tied to tight until you catch a glimpse of his face.

His usually shit-eating grin was replaced by what looked like a smile of genuine satisfaction.

You quietly applauded yourself for accomplishing something you once thought to be impossible, before you rose slightly on the bed.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, Al,” you say. You try to move but his arms clings onto your neck and hold on for life. He whines slightly.

“Alright,” you give in and sit back down, “maybe we can’t wait a little longer.”

a/n — this guys misses his mommy so much it’s not even funny oh my god. He’s way more pathetic than meets the eye guys, trust.

I feel like he would get super needy and clingy after this too like. He would constantly be needing all of attention at all times. He would just be competing with everyone for your attention it’d be wild.

It would make for some absolute fire songs though.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon

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anantaru · 3 months

Text

— comforting you on a bad day

including — scaramouche, wriothesley, alhaitham, childe x gn! reader

genre — fluff, hurt -> comfort

— scaramouche

scaramouche finds you sitting on the couch, burying your face into your hands.

easy to see, he knew you must've had a bad day or that something inconvenient must've happen to you— and unquestionably, he feels a slight function of heartache when you're suddenly pulling your head up to look at him walk towards you, gloom settling on his countenance.

scaramouche doesn't say anything at first, he doesn't want to make you overwhelmed or like you had to talk about it, it was up to you if you wanted of course. but it was interesting to see how dependable he was on your happiness, because the man detested seeing your smile fade, he'd do anything to bring it back— as soon as you're sad, unahappy or dejected, he's beginning to feel it with you.

he was angry— bend out of his usual shape because he cannot find a quick solution to this, he just doesn't want to see you covered in a gloomy mask.

however, instead of resorting back to his past methods of handling situations such as those, especially the ones that come close to his own emotions, scaramouche decides to take a seat right next to you before placing his hand on his knee, but with his palm facing up— you see, as if to invite you to take it.

hopefully you do.

"you're quiet," he inquires shortly after, tilting his head to look at you, "on any other day, you'd greet me the moment i walk through that door," he purses his lips a little, the hand on his knee quietly turning impatient, like he's scared you won't take it— or even worse, what if he's the reason you felt this way?

troubled, scaramouche proceeds to look at you, and it might not come across like it since it can be quite difficult for him to show his proper feelings— but he'd do anything for you right now, if there's something he could do in order for your smile to appear again, he'd do it without batting an eye.

his throat lets go of a dry sigh when you take his hand sweetly before resting your head against his shoulder, holding your breath as you exhale through a crumbling heave.

scaramouche's grip on you tightens, "who did this to you?" he decides to ask, his voice growing an octave louder, ultimately signalizing the despair he felt from seeing you like this, "is there someone who made you feel this way? someone i should be aware of?" scaramouche had to know if there was a third party that was involved and most importantly, responsible for this— if so, you could easily leave it to him to take care of it.

you sniffle, the grip your hand had on his palm strengthening, "no one, it's just me," you embarrassingly rub your cheek against his shoulder as he leans back into the couch so you could make yourself more comfortable, "i just had a bad day, that's all," and as badly as your eyes wanted to flutter shut, you were frightened to do so due to possible tears dousing your cheeks.

for some reason, you didn't want him to see you cry— despite the fact that you would never be judged nor laughed at by him.

the man loves you dearly, he could tell the entire world about it— draw warm and tender words on a pavement blossoming with roses. it's truly a magical feeling, turning to dizzying deeds and actions when he gets to kiss and hug you, touch and caress you.

scaramouche whispers your name softly when he slowly runs his thumb to circle around your hand, "hey, you don't have to be sad anymore," at his sentence, you curiously turn your head up as best as you can when his eyes flitter down at you.

"i mean, since i'm back from the akademiya now, we can spend all night together," you make a hum of appreciation before shifting yourself into him so you're lying as close to your boyfriend as possible, "—besides," scaramouche continues as he rests his head against yours, his mind and spirit soothing yours, "if someone is, in fact, responsible for your sadness, i might need to take care of something else first."

you chuckle, believing he's joking before opting to peck his cheek as at the same time, he pulls you in for a proper kiss— ah well, how sweet, you're smiling now, he can sense it as denseness lifts from your shoulders.

strongly invaded by a warm cradle around your whole face, scaramouche silently takes your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "i told you," he sternly reminds you, whispering his words as his brows narrowed, the muscles in your face beginning to soften upon receiving his homely touch.

"i won't let anyone or anything sadden you, doesn't matter what it is, i will make sure you're being taken care of."

— wriothesley

you do not move an inch, your body hemmed in a draining blanket that fueled a negative spot in your heart, but do not be mistaken because within this cold, you can feel the warmth of wriothesley's love all the more.

you're like a sheet of glass right now, utterly still, eyes open as if gazing into a dark hole, unable to move a single muscle by how challenging this day had been for you.

as soon as he shrouds your body against his arms and pushes you into his chest, your eyes are glazed in warm liquid that cover the majority of your cheeks, slowly eating away at your skin. your boyfriend doesn't mind when you're crying in front of him, quite the reverse actually, he sees it as you trusting him so much, that you're willing to be vulnerable in front of him.

as soon as he kisses your forehead in reassurance, the force of the impact your emotions have caused on your mental state lift a little, paired with your general feelings resulting in you stumbling forward into his embrace, your hands clumsily scrambling at his jacket as you sniffle into his chest.

in your relationship you didn't need to hide your raw emotions, not only would wriothesley see through you right away, but it's, bluntly saying, pointless to do that in the first place. the man knows that in this moment in time, he needs to be there for you, and he doesn't expect you to be happy and positive all the time.

yet seeing you like this feels like losing a limb, because you're completing wriothesley in a way, you're like a puzzle piece fixing his heart— the fear of being unable to help you, give you what you need was scrambling into his body and mind, and if you ultimately sought after it, the duke would gladly destroy anything to make you happy, including himself.

"sorry, am i being too much?" you sniffle out before rubbing your eyes to get rid of the blur, honestly clueless as to why you're apologizing in the first place, "i think you must've expected our date to turn out differently," you continue, it was all you could shove past the heavy lump in your throat. you're holding yourself on a single thread, deep breathes and hefty swallows, your soft fingers slipping beneath the back of his neck.

wriothesley smiled, feeling the pull of it behind his heart, he disliked whenever you were apologizing for things you cannot control, not to mention when they were so human too.

"not at all, do not say that," he answers, holding you close, "you will never be able to be too much for me," he promises as he sighs out, one last octave teasing the following as his lips slowly move with a warm tenderness on your forehead once he places a kiss on you.

— alhaitham

alhaitham will not touch you, yes, he will sit next to you and offer a shoulder for you to lean on if you so seek it, but he will not begin to speak first nor say anything at all— wether it's questioning your current state or beginning to somehow figure it out on his own.

instead, he just listens to you.

you can talk to your boyfriend about everything, he does not care if it's pointless gossip you've overheard the other day, or you talking about this new, exciting hobby you found or like now, something that has pulled and squeezed at your heart like you're unable to breathe anymore.

he will not interrupt you, the man will make sure you can scream your heart out of your chest if it means that you feel better afterwards. he's a good listener and when you tell him everything that's on your mind, alhaitham will subconsciously ponder about possible solutions on how to help you out.

"nothing could be more human than this, don't ever feel like you have to hide this from me," he says as your tears slip beyond your control, rushing uncontrollably. alhaitham desired you beyond any significant reason, he has fallen for you and such fact will never falter, it's beyond native intelligence, beyond common sense.

although sometimes, he can trail off, it's cute, especially when he's catching himself admiring his darling, "you're so beautiful, have i told you that today?" for a second, right after you tipple over his words, your body is unable to react, and then you cannot help yourself but let go of a chuckle.

his sudden compliment came so unexpected regardless of your boyfriend being blunt by nature, "you're telling me this while i'm crying and looking like a mess?" your lips curve into a flustered smile, cutting through your initial weary facade. the chilling waves that flung into your body surely caused havoc, but it was almost frightening by how fast alhaitham could change your mood.

"I thought you should know," he ponders, softly pushing your head up so you could look at him, "you're always beautiful to me, that has nothing to do with how you're feeling,"

shortly after, you lean into a tender kiss, chasing the love he was always providing you with— this time, simply feeling him once wasn't enough, so you kiss him again, again and again, leaving him with enlarged pupils as he pulls gently away.

— childe

childe will find things to make you feel better, heavy emphasized on the find.

it's something he has to get done and despite the fact that he might not seem like it, he feels it with you, everything, it impact him, regardless if you're being drained that day, saddened or if it even has anything to do with him in the first place.

naturally, he'd also pamper you so you're feeling more comfortable, but such wasn't necessarily a new in your relationship, he clearly has a habit of spoiling you to bits— the celestial bodies decorating the world, yes, ajax would reach for the stars in the sky if you so wished for them.

you're aware that he's mostly absent due to his work requiring him for the most times, but he'd make sure to be by your side the moment he realizes you're genuinely not feeling well. childe is quite adapt of finding a way to make what he wants to achieve possible so do not worry yourself, he will never let you down.

for all that, do not get greatly surprised when he's starting to throw around unfunny jokes his brother might've told him or tell you a story about how hilariously weird his fellow colleagues can be, not to mention scary which was rib-tickling in its own manner.

the man will get nervous too and it's cute, it's his first serious relationship and he doesn't want to do anything wrong. also, important side note but it goes without saying that him being this adorable will already lift your mood a bit.

he's also a little overwhelmed by the situation and is scared to make it somehow worse for you. little does he realize that you're so thankful to him, in fact, you do not need him to magically solve the problems for you, your boyfriend just being here and listening was enough to find comfort.

it's all the more charming, he is, how he smiles from head to toe when you're searching his snug, pleasant hugs when he lets you sob into his chest.

"you're so comfy," you mumble into his jacket before rubbing your cheek over the place where you could faintly notice his fastened heart thumping beneath his ribcage.

your message makes him immediately blush, scarlet red catching his skin and setting it ablaze as he averts his gaze a little to conceal it.

childe doesn't necessarily think he's good at comforting somebody, but he shows you another smile when you gaze up at him, his grin close-lipped but bright as a bared tooth, "i'm sorry, i know i have neglected you recently," you recognize the weary weight of his words, how they're crumpling off his face, "my work, ugh, i know i should've been there for you more," he groans, "you don't deserve to be alone all the time,"

"it's not your fault," you draw a shaky gasp, panicked arms flying to his neck to wrap around him, "you're here now, aren't you?" your eyes glow, flickering with an impression that he cannot forget, it's boiling over until reaching the surface of your complete countenance, "can you stay for the night? only if it's possible," you reluctantly continue.

it's important to note that you really do not fault him, childe was not only providing for his family, but he wanted to give you a life where you do not have to worry about the material aspect of living.

ajax slides his large palm soothingly along the shiver of pain wracking your frame as he listlessly rests his head against yours, "i'll stay as long as you want me to, until you're feeling better, until you can smile again."

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celtic-crossbow · 10 months

Text

Skin You With My Tongue

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria

Warnings: Poorly written smut, p in v, fingering, oral (fem rec), brief hand job

Summary: What has gotten into Daryl? It doesn’t matter because you like it!

A/N: I haven’t been feeling great but I wanted to finish this before taking a break. Then I’ll work on my last request. Once again, I don’t think it’s great but ah well. I’m trying to just be thankful to be writing again. I hope some enjoyment comes from it!

You had no idea how you’d ended up in your current predicament: flat on your back, naked, with an equally naked Daryl Dixon devouring you like a man starved. You weren’t complaining by any stretch of the imagination. Though he had claimed to have little experience, the man deserved medals for the sounds he was wringing out of you with his tongue.

Anyway, back to the question of how did you end up here?

The day had started like any other. Your group was still new to Alexandria. While most had been given jobs, you and Daryl had not yet been set to work by Deanna. So, Rick had easily agreed to letting you both go hunt. Daryl had refused to give up his crossbow when you had first arrived in the community, but you had to sign out a weapon.

“Bullshit.” Daryl growled from where he leaned against the doorframe of the armory. You couldn’t say that you didn’t agree with him.

Regardless, you played by the rules, got your gun, strapped the weapons to the back, and climbed onto Daryl’s bike. He had decided the two of you could go further out today, not having much luck the past couple of days in the direct vicinity.

Daryl was your closest friend in your tight knit group and had been since you all had been forced to wander around in the cold before the prison. He was difficult to read and his emotional walls were high and thick. Somehow, you had been able to scale those walls, if not shatter them completely. You accepted him without question but you didn’t take any shit from him either. You weren’t afraid to call him out. In fact, the first time he had willingly come to sit next to you by the fire was just after you had asked him if he was “violating the Georgia sodomy law by having his head that far up his own ass.” You’d been close ever since.

You wrapped your arms tightly around his stomach and rested your chin on his shoulder, making kissy noises at him when he glanced back at you.

“Stop.” He grumbled before starting up the motorcycle. You simply gave his midsection a squeeze and could practically feel him roll his eyes as you headed through the gate.

The first part of the day was uneventful. Daryl stashed the bike before you walked and walked, finding nothing to track. About midday, the two of you came across a gorgeous lake. The water was clear and having only crossed two walkers on your trek there, you decided that a swim was an excellent idea after lunch. You didn’t ask Daryl, truly figuring he wouldn’t mind and that, hell, maybe he’d even join you.

You didn’t look at him as you stripped down to your bra and panties, mismatched as they were. If you had, you would have seen him comically fumble and drop the piece of dried meat in his hand.

“The blue hell ya doin’, girl?” He snapped after righting himself.

“Cooling off.” You gave him a smile over your shoulder before mimicking his frown with added exaggeration. “Maybe you should do the same, you old grump.”

He scoffed, keeping his eyes averted. “You’re bein’ careless. Careless gets ya dead.”

“I’m not going in unprotected!” You spun toward him, drawing his gaze toward you before pointing to the small knife tucked securely between your breasts. You couldn’t help but laugh when his face reddened and he looked away so quickly that you could swear you heard his neck crack. “I won’t be long.”

And you weren’t. Barely twenty minutes later, you were sitting down next to him, fully clothed albeit damp, but feeling much better.

“Ready to head out?” You asked cheerfully.

He did not share your enthusiasm, scowling as he stood and secured his crossbow to his back. “Been ready.”

“Well, aren’t you just a bucket of sunshine?” He had already stalked off by the time you gathered up everything. You had to sprint to catch up.

After a couple of hours, Daryl finally caught the trail of a deer and began tracking it. You followed quietly, watching his methods and learning everything you could. You knew how to hunt, thanks to him, but you were always eager to sharpen your skills. When the animal was finally within sight, the archer kneeled after signaling for you to stand still just beside him. He was lining up the shot when something caught his eye to the right of where you stood.

“Get down!” He whispered sharply, grabbing your arm and pulling. The sudden jerk caught you off guard and you were thrown off balance, crashing into him. He fell flat on his back with you on top, your palms on either side of his head with your chest almost directly in his face. With half a dozen walkers shuffling into the area, you couldn’t move lest you be detected.

The deer sensed the danger and ran, the group of undead following mindlessly. As they passed where you and Daryl hid, you instinctively lowered, feeling his breath against your shirt. It took several minutes for the threat to move far enough away that you felt comfortable to lift yourself up and sit back, effectively placing your ass on his stomach.

“Well, that sucks. That was a big doe.” You complained. When he didn’t comment, you looked at him. He was propped up on his elbows, looking anywhere but at you. His face and neck were flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “You okay?” You queried with general concern.

“M’fine. Can ya get offa me?”

“Oh. Right.” You stood quickly, as did he. His back was quickly turned to you.

“We’re done. Let’s go.”

Your head tilted, brow creased in confusion. “We’ve got hours of daylight left. Shouldn’t we—”

“Said we’re done.” He was already walking away, leaving you staring at his back and wondering what you’d done wrong.

The ride back was tense and silent. You even chose to just lightly place your hands below his ribs and keep some space between your bodies instead of how you would usually have a tight hold on him.

When you entered Alexandria, Daryl parked the bike and got off, leaving you there, confused and more than a little upset. He passed Rick by without a word, the former sheriff turning to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. You gave him a shrug.

“I have no idea.” Shaking your head, you grabbed the gun from where it was secured to the back and went to sign it in before returning to the home you shared with Daryl and Carol. He was nowhere to be found on the first floor, leaving you to assume he had retreated to his room in the basement. With a heavy sigh, you went upstairs to shower.

Evening was upon you before you knew it, the sun having only set a few minutes before Carol invited you to walk to the other house for dinner with the group. You weren’t feeling all that hungry so you told her you’d be there in a few minutes. It was a lie. You had no intention of leaving your room.

Turning over onto your side, you closed your eyes. You had just drifted off when there came another knock. “Ugh.” You groaned and threw back the blankets, remaining in just your tank top and underwear since you didn’t plan on leaving with her. “Carol, I really don’t—” Once the door opened, you screeched to a halt, meeting the impossibly blue eyes of your favorite bowman. “Daryl.” You blinked at him blankly.

“Hi.” He nearly whispered. “Can I, uh—?” He gave a vague motion toward the inside of your room.

“Right. Uh, yeah, right, sure.” You stammered while stepping aside. He stepped in and you turned to push the door closed, a gasp leaving your mouth when you felt him press himself against your back. “D-Daryl?”

“First, the lake. Then your tits in my face when the walkers came. An’ now—this?” His finger was tracing the outline of your panties over your hip.

“What? I didn’t—”

He growled, a low sound in his throat, as he spun you around and pressed you back against the door with his body. He grabbed your chin to force your gaze on him.

“Didn’t what? G’on. Tell me.”

“Daryl, I didn’t mean anything by any of that.” You gulped, though you weren’t afraid. Exactly the opposite. Heat and wetness was pooling at your core, your skin feeling electrified where he was touching you. Nevertheless, you couldn’t lie to him. “I really wasn’t trying to fuck with you, I swear.”

There was an instant change in his eyes and it broke your heart. He released you with a muttered “shit,” his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. The dim light of your bedside lamp was enough for you to see his face reddening and the slight tremble to his frame.

“Y/N, I—fuck—m’sorry.” He quickly attempted to sidestep you and reached for the doorknob, but you were faster and blocked his path. His head shot up, eyes wide and panicked. He had absolutely misread the day’s happenings but he wasn’t wrong on one thing.

“I wasn’t intentionally fucking with you.” You repeated, your tongue snaking out to wet your lips before you continued. “But I would have if I had known it’d end with you here like this.” His arm dropped away from the knob and you entered into his space, pressing your chest against him to hover your lips over his. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Daryl Dixon.”

And now you were here.

“Fuuuuck!” You moaned, pressing the back of your head into the pillow before raising it to look down at the man between your thighs. Your fingers twisted and tugged his hair as your hips rolled, grinding your cunt against his tongue. Daryl growled against your clit, the sound vibrating against the swollen nub. His large hands pressed down on your inner thighs, holding you open while also effectively rendering you immobile.

A whine slipped past your lips when his tongue once again pressed tightly against you, sweeping up and down before he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucked. You tried to lift your hips but he pressed down harder, his nails biting into your skin. He removed his mouth from you, dark eyes glaring from just above your mound.

“Be still.”

His gravelly voice was even lower, darkened with lust and demand. You found you couldn’t help but obey. Breathing through your nose, you nodded eagerly. He kept his gaze locked on your face while his right hand lifted from your thigh, fingertips whispering over your flesh to dance down to your core. He ran a single digit through your slick once…twice, never breaking eye contact.

Your hands left his hair and fisted into the sheets of your bed, but otherwise, you remained frozen in place, panting through the pleasure of stretching around his middle finger breaching your opening. He slid in to the first knuckle, then the second, pausing only briefly before pushing in all the way. The sound that left your throat was positively sinful. You dropped your head back to the pillow and focused on not moving.

“Good girl.” He praised you, rewarding you by drawing his digit almost all the way out before sinking back inside, thus beginning a steady rhythm of which he continued. When you remained unmoving, he lowered his head once again to lavish attention onto your clit.

Who was this man? This was a completely new Daryl. In control, demanding, vocal, and positively panty-dropping. A new part of him for you to accept and adore. A part of him that, to your knowledge, only you had seen. One that you definitely hoped you would see again and again!

“Daryl, fuck!” You cried out when his index finger joined the first. You shivered almost violently when you felt him smile against your pussy.

“In a minute.” He purred, pumping into you faster.

Your hands moved from the sheets to the headboard, palms flat to keep the thrusts of his hand from pushing you upward. The moans and cries were constant, his mouth and fingers igniting a fire low in your belly. The knot was twisting tighter and tighter, and you grit your teeth when you felt the sparks of it begin to shoot down to your toes and up into your chest.

“Nngh, Daryl! I’m—” You panted, eyes screwed shut and legs trembling. He curled his fingers, driving them against that soft spot inside you mercilessly while his tongue and teeth tortured your clit. Just when you thought you might die from the pleasure of it all, that knot in your belly pulled taunt and snapped. Wave after wave of euphoria traveled through you, broken moans of his name tumbling from your lips like a mantra. You had grabbed his hair again at some point, holding him against your center with your thighs attempting to trap him there. He didn’t seem to mind, too busy eagerly lapping at the nectar you spilled while riding your high.

When you went limp against the mattress, he pulled his fingers from within you, leaving you to whine at the emptiness they left behind. You were still pulsing with the aftershocks of your orgasm when he pressed one last kiss against your sensitive clit before sitting up on his knees. You blinked away the haze in your vision to watch him suck on those two fingers that had just fucked you senseless, your juices still glistening on his face.

You weren’t sure what came over you but you dove forward almost clumsily while he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He caught you easily with the other arm and pulled you against his chest, your arms encircling his neck to pull his lips to yours. The kiss was desperate, all tongues and teeth. The absolute need to be close to him in that moment was something you couldn’t explain. When you pulled back to look at him, your pupils blown wide and lips swollen, it was as if he understood before your sex-addled brain could form any words.

“I gotcha, girl.” Daryl said softly, a contradiction to how he had commanded you only moments prior. You nodded and let him kiss you again. It was tender this time, slow and deliberate. The archer began to lay you back. He caught himself with one arm while the other stayed behind your head to control your descent until you were once again on the pillows.

His mouth left yours and began to roam across your jaw. He nuzzled his cheek against yours in a way that you found absolutely adorable but then he was pressing open-mouthed kisses below your ear. Large hands traveled to your chest to cup both of your breasts, calloused fingers exploring the supple mounds before settling to roll your pebbled nipples between them. He kissed his way down, that sinful mouth eager to take over worshiping that part of you.

“Daryl,” you gasped, arching up into him when his mouth closed around your right nipple, “mmmm, Daryl, please!” You could feel his erection against your thigh, hot and hard and yet completely ignored. “Please—” you tried again, the plea coming out more like a pathetic whine.

“I know whatcha want.” He murmured against the skin between your breasts. He latched onto your left nipple with his teeth while his left hand took over stimulating the right. “Whatcha need.” You did the only thing you could and twisted your fingers into his hair, drawing your bottom lip in between your teeth with a quiet whimper. His touch left you suddenly and you opened your eyes to find him directly above you and lowering down until his lips were just barely touching yours. “But I wantcha to say it anyway.” You felt every syllable against your mouth, the simple action enough to make your cunt clench around nothing. Goddamn, this man knew how to play your body like an instrument.

His fingers were ghosting down your left side only for his hand to maneuver between your bodies. Grasping his cock, he slid it through your folds, gathering your juices in agonizingly slow strokes. Each time the tip of him grazed your clit, your back arched from the mattress with a cry on your lips.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Daryl.” You whined, anchoring your legs around his hips. You dug your heels into the skin just below his ass in a desperate attempt to pull him into you. Too bad he was much stronger than you.

He hummed in response but only began to stroke himself, spreading your slick along his shaft. “Tell me whatcha want me to do, girl.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were going to literally combust if he wasn’t inside you at that moment. You weaved your arms underneath his and pulled at him. “Fuck me, Daryl. Please, please, fuck me!”

He chuckled. The asshole actually chuckled but you didn’t care because he then immediately entered you in one fluid motion, burying himself to the hilt. His arms nearly gave out as your wet heat welcomed him, stretching and molding to his cock as if your body was made just for him. He groaned, dropping his head to your shoulder but you were too far gone to notice. The pleasurable burn of accommodating him brought you to new heights. You almost came right on the spot.

“Fuck.” He breathed against your neck, fighting to keep himself in check.

After you both had a moment, Daryl pushed himself up onto his forearms, drawing back his hips slowly before snapping forward and earning a broken moan from you. The feeling of him moving inside you was overwhelming, the push and pull driving every thought from your mind to leave only the ability to feel. And you wanted more.

You clawed at his back, each thrust forward tearing a cry from your throat. You barely registered that his mouth was on yours, but responded immediately, craving the taste of him. The smoke and pine mingled with the taste of your cunt on his tongue and you couldn’t get enough. You swallowed his delectable moan when your hips came up to meet this thrusts, the sound of wet skin slapping echoing off the walls of your room. Bringing a hand to his hair, you pulled his head back, pussy clenching when the action made him hiss between his teeth.

Teeth met his skin, biting down just above his collar bone. The salty taste brought a moan into your throat. You marked him there, sucking hard until you brought blood to the surface and then you released him. “You—feel so good.” You panted before your mouth was back on his. He pulled back suddenly and you whined at the loss of his weight but then he was sitting back on his knees, grabbing your hips and fucking into you so hard that you saw stars. It was just on the good side of painful, your cunt spasming around his cock as the familiar heat began to build in your belly.

Daryl didn’t stay that way way long. He released your hips and leaned forward to use the headboard as leverage, pounding you with such force that you again had to brace yourself with your palms. Your cries mixed with his moans and grunts and you prayed that Carol was still away. The angle was intense, each thrust had his tip pressing roughly against your sweet spot, building your pleasure at a pace you wished would slow.

“Daryl, I’m—I’m gonna—” you couldn’t get the words out between breaths and moans, but he knew from the way you tightened around him that you were nearing the precipice. And he was determined to throw you over the edge first.

He released the headboard and grabbed your arms, yanking you up while he sat back on his heels. You grabbed for his shoulders and then encircled his neck, resting one hand on the back of his head and the other on his shoulder blade. He moved his hands to your hips, helping you to bounce on him, spearing yourself on his cock and driving it deeper. Your moans became pleas and then a chant of his name, mouth hanging agape between words and breaths and eyes screwed shut.

“Cum for me.” He grunted against your jaw and that was all it took. You were almost certain you screamed but you couldn’t hear it, vision blacking out as euphoria swallowed you. You came back to yourself as the waves began to ebb, Daryl continuing to fuck you through. Your body felt heavy and uncoordinated and you pulled back a bit to clumsily seek out his mouth, greedily drinking down each sound he offered as he chased his own release. His grip on your hips would leave bruises, but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

His movements grew sloppy and you could feel him beginning to twitch and pulse inside you. You pulled your mouth from his and watched him until he pulled you from his lap. You moved quickly, aware of his actions, and wrapped your hand around him, pumping him fast and hard. He pressed his forehead against yours, his hands gripping your thighs while he fought to breathe through the sensation. His teeth were clenched and his eyes tightly closed, sweat shining on his skin and you were sure it was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

Half a dozen more strokes before you twisted your hand and he cried out, muscles freezing and face contorting into a grimace of pure ecstasy. He breathed out your name, hips jerking and ropes of cum painting your hand and both of your thighs. No, that was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

You pulled his mouth to yours before he could come all the way down, relishing each twitch of his muscles. When you pulled away, he finally opened his eyes and swayed on the spot. He seemed dazed but when his gaze met yours, he leaned forward to kiss you. It was gentle, almost hesitant. As if he didn’t know whether or not you’d welcome it.

“That was amazing.” You whispered, finally catching your breath.

“Yeah.” He replied quietly.

You brought a hand to the side of his face, watching all the courage melt away. His already flushed face was growing impossibly redder. You couldn’t help but smile. He had been dominant and commanding only to morph right back into the Daryl you had fallen in love with.

Your eyes widened.

Shit.

You were in love with him.

You were actually in love with Daryl.

You didn’t move when he got up to grab a towel, slipping on his boxers while he was at it. You still didn’t move as he cleaned you up, his mouth moving once he was done but no sound registering. He snapped his fingers in front of your face and you flinched.

“What’d you say?”

“Ya okay?” His brow was drawn inward in concern. He looked so, so nervous and you just wanted to pull him onto the bed and hold him.

“Yeah, I’m great.” You beamed.

He nodded and worried his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing over at his clothes. “Guess I should go.”

Your face fell as he reached for his pants. “Why?” Daryl froze and looked at you, head tilted. “You could stay. Here. With me.” You offered, your own face reddening. He stayed in the awkward position of halfway reaching toward his shirt but was obviously considering your words.

“Ya want me to stay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I really do.” You smiled sincerely. He nodded and straightened, coming back around to the other side of the bed. He sat stiffly against the headboard, chewing his lip again. You started to lean against him when there came a soft knock at the door. You both looked up and then at one another.

Busted.

You both scrambled to get dressed and it would have been comical had you not been thinking of who could be on the other side of the door. Carol. Rick. Michonne. Oh god, Carl! You looked back at him just as he pulled his shirt over his head, an apologetic expression on your face. Turning the knob and pulling the door open, you smiled innocently at—

No one.

“What the—” You leaned out and looked down each hall to find them empty. However, at your feet were two wrapped plates of food. One with a note addressed to Daryl and the other to you. In Carol’s handwriting.

You looked around for the woman once more while picking up the plates and stepped back into the room, kicking the door shut. Eyebrows raised, you crossed the space to hand Daryl his and then placed yours on the bed, removing the note and unfolding it.

“Good for you. Now tell him that you love him.”

You almost laughed but held it, simply folding your note and putting it in your bedside drawer. Daryl was looking at his own with a raised brow before he folded it and put it in his pocket.

“M’starvin’.” He announced, plopping onto your bed while unwrapping his food. He watched you smile and follow suit, gaze lingering just a moment longer than necessary.

His note?

“Don’t be stupid, Pookie. She loves you too.”

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #the walking dead #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon x female reader #Spotify

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youryanderedaddy · 4 months

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Summary: You're a princess locked in a tower and guarded by a big, scary dragon. But is he as scary as it seems? tw: female reader, deceit, manipulation, murder (not reader), stockholm syndrome(?) My ko - fi <3

As the youngest princess, you'd always known you would end up like this. In some far off land with little to your name other than some jewels, stuck in a tower just like your mother had been before she got married to a foreign lord, and finally allowed to re-join society. It was such a cliche it was funny at first, but now you just felt like screaming at the top of your lungs from boredom.

At first you didn't feel the unknown presence. The tall man was lurking in the shadows, as if part of the ancient building. You could smell the herbs in the air around him - the minthy fragrance trailing long after he had retired to his chambers. Then little by little you started to recognise him - in certain shades of sunlight, in the back of mirrors, in the tiny lizards crawling at the corners of the stone walls. But nothing could prepare you for that first morning when you saw him - really saw him.

You had woken up early, startled by noise reminiscent of that a bird makes during flight - but multiplied tenfold. You had looked through the window with a weak, fluttering heart. And then you saw his true form - massive yellow wings covered in what looked like pure gold burning brightly in the sky. Long, hard body made of sun - kissed flakes; so sharp they could be used as arrows. And a thin, curled tail drawing circles around your tower.

One of his empty moonlit eyes turned towards you, and it was all over. He immediately dissapeared into thin air, the only evidence of his existence being miles of thick gray smoke. But you weren't going to let the only living creature around run away so easily.

"I saw you!" You screamed long before you could even begin thinking of proper etiquette. Ladylike behavior be damned, you were dying of loneliness in this stupid tower. "Please..." You begged, voice hoarse and desperate from weeks of forced silence. "Come here." You continued ruefully, playing with your hair, chest riddled with anxiety - after all you hadn't spoken to a human being in so long.

You heard a long, almost pained sigh, which made you turn around. You were greeted by a tall brooding figure. It wore the face of a man, but its long golden hair and broad, muscular shoulders pointed to something a lot less human and a lot more devine. He must have been twice your size - trully intimating in all his shining glory. Even in his human form his skin seemed to glow just like his sharp almond - shaped black orbs, constricted in his yellow pupils.

"I'm always here, Your Highness." You remember his exact words simply because you were taken aback by how soft his voice was - just like fine silk. It wasn't the voice of a dragon, but the voice of an angel. "You just never see me." He added with what you then assumed was a hint of playfulness, but now recognised as annoyance. With that he leaned against the wall, crossing his hands together.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Many months passed since that fateful day. You slowly got to know your new companion - or perhaps, guardian. You learnt that many called him Cain after the fallen son* - once a strong soldier of the Lohemian Kingdom, his injuries had made it impossible to keep fighting. That's how your father found him - abandoned by his brothers, lying in a mudded puddle of his own blood. The rest was history.

He didn't speak very much - but he never left your questions unanswered.

"Cain..." You'd call out with practised uncertainty. Even so far removed from your peers, you still couldn't escape the twisted societal ideals of propriety. You could never be too eager to speak to a man - even if he wasn't fully human. "Is that your real name?" You wondered, genuinely curious. You slowly looked away from the book you were holding and towards your friend, the book long forgotten. The dragon was sitting in the other corner of the room. Despite all the time you had spent together so far, he was still hesitant to come near you. There was a certain stiffness in his strong shoulders - as well as his jaw.

"Princess..." The man mumbled softly, your heart aching by the sheer tenderness of the term. Usually you'd pay it no mind as it was your right from birth, your title - but titles didn't matter here. There was no place for status or riches between those four intimate walls that always felt small despite the spacious squares. "Don't you know curiousity got the cat's tongue?" He responded with a crooked smile that didn't quite reach his eyes - even his smiles were serious and stoic.

"You have it all wrong." You huffed, standing up from your comfortable chair just to make a big, dramatic gesture with your hands. "It's curiosity killed the cat." You stated confidently, waving your finger at the dragon. He let out a soundless chuckle and averted his gaze away from you. He still couldn't get over the fact that you weren't afraid of him.

"Whatever my Princess says, goes." Cain teased, eyes narrowing further - now they looked like two pitch black slits. He tuck one disobedient lock of gold behind his pointy ear, making the glass beads of his earring jingle in tone. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He whispered with slight condescension, toying with the dancing little crystals. "My name is Kaajin, if you must know. I doubt you can spell it. It's in Lohemian." He suddenly stared at you as if in a challenge. "Does this change anything? Anything at all."

You shook your head - of course no. There was little your protector could do to make your feelings change; not when you had been so terribly alone without him. Not when he looked at you as if you were precious - breakable, yet precious.

************************************************************************

The days went by slowly. There was nothing there to help pass the time - just your voice and his voice blending together in the echo of the tower. Again and again and again.

"Entertain me." You asked authoritatively, looking at your friend from down below while you were sitting on the ground. You were bored - so very bored. "I don't remember ever signing up to be your personal jester, my Princess." Cain, no, Kaajin replied succinctly, showing off two pointy fangs - and you couldn't help recalling the story of the Sleeping Beauty and the spindle that sent her into deep, eternal slubmer. You wondered how his teeth would feel against your finger - and your throat. Whether they'd tire you or save you with the kiss of true love.

"Please?" You asked sweetly, just the way he liked - just like you had done that cold winter day in December when you first met face to face. It seemed to work, because soon after that you could feel him move through the room with a tired step - ever so dramatic, closing in on you. "Sure." The dragon breathed in your ear, enjoying the way the flesh quickly reddened with emotion. He reached behind the sensitive shell and slowly waved his fingers just short of your nose. In his hand just milimeters from you was hanging a thin silver chain with a little red rose dangling down. "Here. Have fun." He let it slip past his slender fingers and you swiftly reached to catch it before it could break in thousand pieces.

"What am I supposed to do with it?" You asked, puzzled - still looking at the delicate bracelet and the way it seemed to come alive under direct sunlight. "I am not a child." You suddenly puffed, stuffing it into the pocket of your long skirts. Kaajin only clicked his tongue, gently tugging at your wrist until you took it out of your pocket. "Don't be so ungrateful." His strict yet plush voice took you out of your little outburst, and you finally looked up. His eyes were measuring you up, scanning for any hidden movement - any secret emotion. "I am a dragon, remember? We tend to be awfuly protective of our things."

Your eyes filled with curiosity once again. "You mean your jewels?" He nodded rhytmically, trying to keep his composure at the mention of his old, forgotten customs. "I've read some stories about dragon kings stealing piles of golden coins and locking them away for all eternity. "You chuckled to yourself. "Like they could ever use them." Even after all those years you still found the thought amusing. Humans spent their youth slaving away so they could waste the money gained once they were old and wise. Dragons, on the other hand, were satisfied with holding onto wealth and jewels and all those shiny human things - with little understanding of the subejctive value they held in the human world.

"Yes. It's true indeed. Dragons-" Your guard nodded yet again, now somewhat uneasy. "We take good care of our..." He averted his eyes far away from you. "treasures." He finished stiffly, gaze basically burning the ground. "So you shouldn't take my gift lightly. You should wear it with pride. And perhaps in time you'd find another use for it, too." The man explained, a slight blush spreading across his usually high, cold cheeks.

You smiled gingerly, kissing your fingers around the chain before pressing it to your chest - close to your heart.

"I shall cherish it forever, then." You exclaimed, feeling warm inside. You were uncertain as to why, but your stomach was spinning wildly, as if filled with bubbles. "But you still owe me some fun." You giggled, running to start the old phonograph in the corner of the room. It was your favourite thing in the whole world - which didn't mean a lot up here, but it was enough to make your legs move on their own.

As you danced to Vaarlen's famous spring waltz, the air seemed lighter and the cramped hall just slightly more grandiose. It was easier to breathe. You extended your hand towards your dragon, asking him to join.

"You know I don't dance, princess." He grunted, his mood souring. He never told you why he hated it so much, but the man was never too fond of music. Still, you decided to try again. "Oh, come on. Just this once." He didn't seem convinced. "Let me teach you as a thank you gift. I'm serious." You tapped your chest playfully. The man rolled his eyes, then gently took your hand in his. You almost broke into a giddy giggle - for the first time since your family locked you up in the rotten tower you felt happy.

And he always gave into you.

So you two danced, both lost to the music and your own racing thoughts. Kaajin kept his distance, but his hold was strong onto your wrist - unrelenting, like he never wanted to let go. Your body twisted and turned, perfectly synced to the chords, blind to the pass of time. You only realized it had become evening once your back hit the window - it was dark outside. Yet another day gone. Yet another day lost.

"Kaajin..." You could feel the tears burning at your wet lashes before you could stop yourself. You had promised yourself not to think about it anymore - not today, or ever for that matter, but it was impossible once you were faced with the Creator of All. The Master of everything, of everyone - time. How could you ever pretend otherwise?

"Do you think-" You bit the inside of your cheek, your hands fighting the guilt as you let go of his. "Do you think my father would ever let me go into the outside world?"

The guard gulped dry, taking a step back to give you space.

"I-" He took a deep breath, gaining the courage to look at you. "I don't know. The war is still going. Your kingdom has lost many brave men and women. Even the strongest soldiers are starting to capitulate." He couldn't bear to look at your pretty face all messed up by the pain and sorrow, but it was for the best.

"I understand." You muttered, turning your back to him - curling back into yourself. You felt his arms wrap around you, and you remained quiet - neither fighting it, nor embracing it. "Don't cry, my princess." The man whispered. "No matter what happens, I will always be by your side." He meant it. You knew it by now, and that only made it all the more tragic. "I swear on my life." You believed him, you had no reason not to - he was the only one you had left.

As for your father, he couldn't really give a proper order now, Kaajin thought. After all, dead men tell no tales.

#yandere #male yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere dragon #yancore #yandere male x reader #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere smut

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anchoeritic · 1 year

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「 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭’𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞. 」

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jake sully x fem!human

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw(18+), minors dni. clit play, praise kink, degradation kink, pet names (sweetheart, baby, etc.), fingering, squirting, use of “girl”, size kink/difference.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: “i'll touch you as you wish, but only if you can stay quiet for me.”

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: two jake fics in a day? i might as well make my comeback now. reblogs and feedback are appreciated but never pressured! feel free to send in requests while you’re at it.

“you’re so pretty, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he would whisper against your lips, hoping to hear the smallest whimper from you.

his hands were always quick enough to make you answer; caressing your breasts through the thin fabric.

his hands could cover your entire body: him compared to you was the biggest difference and he loved that about you.

he knew he would always tower over you and make you say yes. you were his prey.

nipples erected and clearly toyed with, he licks his lips, observing the way your eyes would roll back for him. “jake,” a whine came out from you, earning a devilish smile from him.

“hm, talk to me,” he would reply, starting to trail kisses along your jaw, “tell me what you feel, baby.”

he knew what he was doing when he teased you. he always made you say what you wanted, felt, before he continued to pleasure you. he was a man of control, he needed those sweet words to come out from your mouth before he could devour you.

you bucked your hips on his lap, biting onto your lip softly. “i need you.” toying around with your nipple, he pinched it gently.

“you sure you can take it?” he teased you, brushing away a fallen strand behind your ear to see your eyes clearer.

his tongue traced circles into your cheek, the slight coldness of his teeth pinching your flesh.

you agreed obediently, nodding your head.

he could only reply with a laugh, caressing your jaw softly. "so needy to be touched," he started. "can i make a deal with ya?"

humming, you laid your head against his chest still rocking yourself softly against his thighs.

“i'll touch you as you wish,” his hand slides up from your breasts, wrapping around your neck tightly before you could react. his breaths grew heavy against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

there had to be a catch to it. he'd never give in to you so easily, right?

“but only if you can stay quiet for me.”

there it was.

“you want me to stay quiet?” you whispered.

“that includes no talking, sweetheart,” he smirked, slipping a finger between your wet folds. he watched as your teeth sink into your bottom lip, nearly drawing blood.

struggling to stay silent with one finger inside you, he slipped a second one, pumping them into you with no mercy.

caught by surprise, your immediate reaction was to close your legs, but jake thought otherwise.

with his strength, he used his arm to pull your leg up, holding it up against your chest as his other was playing with you.

struggling to stay quiet, you bit onto your own leg, burying your face against it.

“still wanna be mean, sweetheart? guess who gets to tell you when to cum.” he pinched the inside of your thigh.

“such a needy, needy girl. i wonder what'll happen if i end up making you squirt.”

a third digit is added, stretching you out beyond what you can take, but could never compare to jake.

you shake your head attempting to push his hand away, only to be met with a hiss from him and a quickening in pace.

“i feel you getting tighter,” he added as you clenched around his fingers. "c'mon, make me happy, baby."

shuttering, you spread your legs wider, trembling when you felt the cold air hit in all different places.

“i know you want to cum,” he mumbled into your hair.

your hips could no longer control themselves, trying to ride for the high. your arousal was already dripping down from between your thighs, drenching jake's lap.

“cum for me.”

his words sent you over the edge, body shaking into an orgasm.

a low groan was heard by jake as you brushed against his bulge, turns out you weren’t the one that had to be quiet.

you threw your head back onto his shoulder, breathing heavily. that had been one of the best of your life and you were silent.

bite marks were scattered around your knee: all made by you attempting to keep yourself quiet.

smiling down at you, he placed gentle kisses on the crown of your head.

“so good for me.” he praised.

“sìltsan 'eve.”

#jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #avatar smut #avatar

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jeannineee · 8 months

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Could you do headcanons on the Bat Boys + Lucien and Eris where reader puts them on a sex ban? Like how would long would they last until they start basically begging reader to let them touch reader.

I feel like Cassian and Rhys wouldn’t last that long and start trying to find ways to get reader give in lol.

Sex Ban with the ACOTAR Men…

a/n: this was actually really funny to write

nsfw under the cut (18+ please)

Rhysand:

He’s lasting maybe a week. MAYBE.

Rhys would also be cocky enough to think that you weren’t serious about banning sex

And then he’d be shocked when you follow through

He’d pretend to be unbothered

But he’d quickly turn to endless flirting to try and make you change your mind—mostly with his daemati abilities.

You’d be at an inner circle meeting or at lunch with friends and he’d send mental images of him fucking you, or you on your knees for him, etc.

“I bet you miss feeling me inside you,” he’d say into your mind.

You’re not leaving the bedroom for a couple of days when you finally lift the ban

Cassian:

Poor Illyrian baby isn’t making it more than a single day

He has a high sex drive so this would be a nightmare for him LMAO

He definitely pouts. Not obnoxiously, but he’ll wrap his arms around you from behind, placing wet kisses along the crook of your neck, murmuring how much he wants to feel you wrapped around his cock.

And when you say no, he continues telling you all the filthy things he wants to do you, smirking as he scents your arousal.

Tons of lingering touches—a kiss on the cheek, or a light squeeze on your ass as he walks by you.

When he’s finally had enough he’ll press his hardness into you from behind, practically whining.

And the way he nips at your ear makes it almost impossible to deny him.

Azriel:

He could wait for quite some time, honestly.

He has the self-control for it!!

However!! The longer you make him wait? The longer he edges you when you finally give in.

MAN he would have a field day when you finally lifted the ban.

He’d waste zero time in tying you up, be it with rope or his shadows.

For Azriel, he gets a lot of pleasure just from watching your pleasure. So he’d bring you to the edge, be it with his tongue, his cock, his fingers.

Only to pull away at the last moment. He wouldn’t stop until you’re begging him.

And boy does he love to hear you beg!!

Once he finally lets you come, he’s overstimulating you too.

He’s a lil mean but we love it.

Lucien:

Like Azriel, I feel like he could wait quite a while.

But he tries his absolute hardest to get you to break!!

Whispering what he wants to do to you when the two of you are at an important meeting or out in public, where you can do nothing about it.

Walking around the house shirtless—bonus points if he just finished showering or working out.

He definitely gets a bit more touchy than usual, constant hugs and kisses.

But when he’s finally had enough, this male is not above begging.

Good luck walking the morning after you finally give in ❤️

Eris:

He could go maybe two weeks before he becomes feral.

Definitely uses touch as a way to try and get you to give in.

Heated makeouts, his tongue exploring your mouth, as his thumbs caress your nipples; grinding against you, etc.

And then he’ll grumble when you deny him.

“Don’t forget how easily I can turn you into a mess,” he’ll say.

He definitely proves that statement when you end the ban!!

When you finally end the ban, he draws at least 3 orgasms from you back to back, and makes you beg for each one.

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heartfullofleeches · 6 months

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Titus [Space Emperor Yan] and former Assassin Cat-Hybrid Darling. (Just a blurbo for now but I love these two now so I'd love to come back to this)

When the pair met, Darling thought Titus was no different from the rest of their targets. A self proclaimed god untouchable by those below him. Little did they know that their employers were basically setting them up on a suicide mention as the tyrant is a damn near immortal deity. As they perch atop his bed - knife planted in his chest, Darling counts their cards as a large hand locks around their wrist; pulling the blade out as one night remove a splinter. There was nowhere for them to run. The element of surprise had been swept from under their feet. They struggle and claw at the man, but there is no give to his iron grasp. As their brain draws to any conclusion a trapped animal may have, the knife in their hands is tossed across the room before they can take the final plunge.

The Emperor should have his little intruder punished. Waking a kind from his beauty rest is a serious offense. A crime in which the accused receives no trial and punished to the highest degree. Their eyelids removed so they never experience another second of slumber before their execution. There is also the more "amusing" route of electrocution or burning everytime they attempt to shut their eyes. Darling surely would have been subjected to this fate if they weren't so... So...

Precious~

Did this adorable little feline really think they could kill a god so easily? They insult him, but fortunately for them, they're cute enough for him to let it slide. The poor thing could use a bath though... And those scars.... When was the last time they had a proper meal? Oh, and those rags!

Titus scoops up the feisty kitty and thrusts them into the hands of his guards while he sorts through his closet for something to throw on until he can get them measured. Darling attempts to flee any chance they are alone, but with Titus promising to have the heads of everyone in the palace if they escaped - they never got far. Once they had some food in them and fully realized Titus wasn't bluffing when he called his home their new place of resident - Darling came up with a plan to lure Titus into false security and learn his witness to take him down when he least expected it. The only flaw in their plan was they underestimate their own commitment to the role as day by day their acceptance of the tyrant's obsession became less of an act.

They no longer had to work for their meals. Everything they could ever deserve was thrust placed right in their hands if they snuggled up to their new master or swished their tail just right in Union with those big adorable eyes. Their word stood above all in his counsel. They were waited on hand and foot by everyone under Titus' rulevIt was paradise. Their former comrades and the person they once were would be disgusted by what they've become, but if the former ever came to drag them back to their old ways they were swiftly cut down without so much as a passing glance from the royal that once stood beside them.

Titus is ever so glad he managed to bag that angry stray and turn them into the sweetest lil dear anyone has ever seen. He nearly loses his composure everytime he catches them lazying around in his robes - cloth barely clinging to their smaller figure. He knows they only do it to make sure he never says no to him, but there's hardly anything he would deny them beside their freedom. Whatever their heart longs for is a small prize to pay for their company. The Emperor is absolutely whipped for his little bedmate and would do anything to keep them collared at his side.

Assassin: You used to be something.... You could have lived a life similar to this without sacrificing your freedom if you had just taken his head. You are but a shell of the person I once knew. I despise you.

Cat Hybrid Reader: Hm... What you say might be true, but there's still something this life grants me that makes it all worth it

[Reader tears their shirt and knees on the floor closer to the cell as they shout]

Cat Hybrid Reader: Titus! Help!

Titus, storming down the dungeon stairwell: Oh, my precious angel. [Picks up Reader and checks them over for injuries] Don't worry, my love. I will have these awful, awful person executed at once. I'll have a necklace made from their ashes, but for now - will a massage and treats make do for leaving you all alone?

Cat Hybrid Reader, wiping fake tears from their eyes: yes....

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #male yandere #Titus my oc #tw yandere #yandere alien #yandere exophilia

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brailsthesmolgurl · 1 month

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WHERE'S MUMMY? PT.2

My first part has received an amazing amount of response, hence I decided that I would come out with a part two, and who knows? Maybe this could be another mini series for the boys? :)))) Regardless, enjoy the read!

Warnings: Comfort and Fluff, Slight Angst for some parts. Mentions of smexy times for one, suggestive for another. ANONS ARE POOPY SOMETIMES BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WILL STOP WRITING SUGGESTIVE HAHA :(

RAFAYEL & MARIELA

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" Mariela's voice could be heard from the other room at the end of the hallway as she called out to her father. Rafayel, who was busy working on one of his art pieces, dashed towards her room at full speed, panicking at how she was calling out to him. He slammed the door open, claymore ready to be withdrawn only to find his daughter on the floor, with paint all over her face and the canvas that he had provided to her.

One may ask why did Rafayel left his daughter all alone in her room while he was working on his art piece. Rafayel, being a good father, had coaxed his daughter for 30 minutes, with candies and also anything she could possibly want, only to be rejected by her. Her adamant 'NO's made Rafayel confused as to why she would want to paint alone in her room. 'I can do this myself daddy' was the last sentence she told him before she closed the door. And he wondered where she got the attitude from, and he had a good guess probably inherited from her independent mother.

So Rafayel sat at the living room, in his usual thinking corner, painting his artwork, but also carefully listening to anything that might go on in the room. He did tried and checked up on her a couple of minutes ago, knocking on her door and asking if she would like any biscuits with milk but the young child only replied 'NO' as if that is the only word she knew for the morning.

"I thought something happened to you, my little fishie." Rafayel sighed in relief, walking over to her to look at what she had drawn. He took a seat next to her and looked at her face. "How did you managed to get paint on both the canvas and your face?" He pulled the little girl into his lap and he chuckled, using his thumb to try and rub the paint off of her face and luckily it came off pretty easily. He silently thanked your effort in purchasing non-toxic paints for Mariela.

"I wanted to do it like how daddy do it." Her smile was angelic, one of Rafayel's trademark. She reenacted how she did it, by drawing air circles on her palm and on her face. "I drew here, and here and..." She flattened her palms and plopped her face onto the surface of her palms. Rafayel was in shock at her creativity.

"So you used your hands and your face as tools to draw?" He tilted his head and when the toddler nodded giddily, Rafayel pinched her cherubic cheeks. "You are an artist just like me. No wonder you're my daughter." He kissed her cheeks and carried her up in his arms. "Now, let's get you washed up and then we will show this piece to mummy when she is back from work okay?"

"OKAY!" She cheered, both arms flying up into the air and Rafayel laughed, bringing her into the bathroom to wash her off from the mess she had brought upon herself.

The roars of your motorbike could be heard and that led Mariela to jump off of the couch, with Rafayel catching up behind her quickly. "Mummy's home!" Mariela was elated, trying to turn the door knob the best she could but with her size and strength, she is not able to. Rafayel came to the rescue on time and he opened the door, smiling when he spotted you getting off of your motorbike and unclasping the buckle of your helmet, swiftly removing the headgear and placing it on your motorbike's seat. "Mummy!"

"Hey there sweetie!" You called out and shuffled over, arms wide opened and your daughter embraced you within your arms. "How was your day today hmm?"

The latter question of yours was directed towards your husband, who was standing against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his torso while watching both of his favourite women walking towards him. "It was good because there is a surprise." He winked at you and you both shared a peck, before heading in. "Mariela, do you want to show mummy what you drawn today?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" The little girl wriggled out of your arms smoothly and she waddled off to her room. You took a seat on the marble floor and awaited for your daughter's return. Rafayel taking a seat right next to you and he encircled his arms around your waist, giving your side a soft knead. The soft sound of thuds closing in when your daughter came out from her room, with something behind her back. "Mummy close your eyes."

Your husband then got behind you and he used his palms to cover your eyes, nodding towards your daughter to proceed further. Mariela pulled the canvas out from behind her and she placed it in your lap, before taking your hand cautiously and put it on her canvas. Rafayel released his hold on your face and you looked down, gasping in surprise at what your daughter had managed to colour on her canvas. But, you can't make out any shapes or sizes, other than two hand prints of hers and what seems to be an imprint of your daughter's face.

"This is so nice of you sweetie." You pulled her in for a hug and kissed her head. "Did you do this with your hands and face?" You asked just to be sure and her reaction made you stared at Rafayel. The actual artist staring back at you, shrugging his shoulders and muttering something along the lines of 'she did not want me to see what she was doing, so I left her to her own creativity'.

"Abstract art is great!" Rafayel smiled, ruffling his daughter's brunette curls which had grown a bit longer. "Daddy can put this in the next exhibition and you can go with me to see it." Rafayel looked at his daughter and she cheered, hugging you tightly and you beckoned your husband in for a hug as well.

On the day of the exhibition, Rafayel was busy attending to the guests, completing his interviews and taking pictures with his fans. You are spending time with Mariela, hand holding hers as the both of you walked through the exhibition halls. Pink and blue and purple, all colours within the same spectrum covered the walls in forms of splatters, lace ribbons were tapered to the ceilings, to add on a touch of elegance. No doubt your husband has 'extravagance' as his middle name.

Almost every corner is littered with his artworks, ranging from abstract to rough sketches, to impressionism paintings to sculptures. Rafayel is a master to all types of artworks, which gained him the fame and respect he has gotten till now. The wooden flooring resonated the sound of your footsteps, heels clacked against it in sync. You looked down at your daughter to notice the little girl has her mouth agaped, staring at all of her father's artworks in awe. Same, Mariela, same.

"Is that the daughter he had mentioned about?" A distant voice could be heard echoing from the end of the hallway and you turned around, seeing a woman clad in a formal outfit, hair neatly tied back and a microphone in her hand. A camera man right behind of her with one of his huge video cameras situated on his shoulder. "Hi, can we do an interview?"

Out of politeness, you agreed, smiling and nodding your head and the reporter crew started to approach you and your daughter. You lowered yourself down to carry Mariela up into your arms so that she could be within the shot as well, assuming the reporter would like a word or two with the renowned artist's daughter.

"How would you describe living with Rafayel, a famous artist?" The reporter held out the mic to you, awaiting for your response.

"Uhm...living with Rafayel has always been a pleasant one, as he does take care of me and my daughter's needs." You replied, a smile coming forth. "He is a good husband and a good father."

"That is good to note. Rafayel sure do cares about you guys a lot. But, would you care to say that you fell in love with him because he is rich and famous?" The daring assumption made by the reporter made you scowled in 4k on the Linkon's National Television Network.

Your eyebrows are now knitted together, your facade of being nice slowly fading behind your rising annoyance. "No. I certainly do not and will never love him just because of his wealth and fame. I love him for the way he is."

"Fans had also mentioned that you do not seem to be a good example of a mother given you are a deepspace hunter yourself. Moreover, given the recent decrease in recruits, you had to take up double shifts to cover for the incident. What do you have to say regarding this?" The woman smirked, knowing she had struck a nerve in you. Her tone coated in layers of disdain and you can see it right through. This is a personal attack towards you and your family.

Before you could retort the question, you felt a hand on the small on your back and you turned around, your husband standing upright beside you. A look you knew all too well shown on his face. "Get out of my exhibition." The crew feigned innocence, looking at one another to mentally convince themselves that they had done nothing wrong other than doing their jobs. "Nobody disrespects my wife and my family like that. Be it fans or reporters or anyone else. SO you can kindly see yourself out before I call on my security guards." The edge of his lips curled into a cunning smirk. "Which I think might not look good on your company's reputation if they were to escort you guys out."

The bunch of strangers started dispersing out of the family's sight and you looked at Rafayel, who is quick to take Mariela off of your arms and into his. "Are you okay?" He ran the back of his hand across your cheek. "I am sorry, I should have been by your side the whole time." He apologised, putting the blame onto himself but you held his hand in yours, thumb rubbing comforting circles.

"Don't say that Rafayel. You were just doing what Thomas has asked of you. I can fend for myself if those remarks were thrown to me." You gave him a peck on your cheek. "Even if the day you end up being homeless and broke, I will still love you." You looked over to your daughter, who had cosied up to her father's neck, fast asleep.

"The same thing applies from me to you too, cutie." The use of the old nickname rolling off of the tip of his tongue made you bit your lip and you could not help but to smile, looking down at your heels. His finger lifted your chin up, and he pressed a kiss onto your lips lovingly in the middle of the exhibition hallway, ensuring that reporters who may be passing by would be able to catch a glimpse of his actual exhibition of love.

ZAYNE & LUMI & IVER

"Good morning." You could make out Zayne's husky voice and his weight was pressed up slightly against your back, a kiss then planted on your cheek. "Today is Lumi and Iver's presentation day. The one where they have to bring a parent along and to introduce them."

"Oh it's today?" You asked, yawning and stirring yourself to wake. You turned over to face your husband and you opened one eye. "I totally forgotten about it." Zayne smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips this time. You felt particularly tired because today is one of those rare off days you could get whenever Wanderer sightings are not reported as often, and perhaps, with the amount of lovemaking you had gone through with Zayne last night, it was a little hard for you to just jump out of bed and get ready for now.

"I can go on behalf on us as I do not need to be in the hospital today." He smoothed his hand over your hair, staring at you lovingly with those alluring hazel-green eyes of his. "So, take your time to rest, my love. You deserve it." Another kiss is pressed to your lips for a few seconds and he got out of bed, walking over to you to pull his side of blanket over your half naked body. "I don't want you to get a cold, so you may take my side of the blanket too."

You smiled warmly at him in return and managed to catch a glimpse of his toned physique when he walked towards the bathroom to wash himself up. Once he was done, he went over to the kids' room to wake them up. "Lumi, Iver. It's time to wake up." He said gently, pushing the curtains open to draw in the sunlight. The twins slowly stirred awake and they both sat up in their beds, in a half awake state.

"Morning daddy." Lumi spoke, with Iver saying the same exact greeting a few seconds behind. As if by routine, they both extended their arms out and Zayne picked both of them up in one-go, bringing them to the bathroom so they could get washed up and get dressed for school.

Pulling up at the twin's kindergarten, Zayne parked at the allocated parking lots for the parents and he got out of the car, immediately getting stares and comments from the bystanders in hushed whispers. Not only does he own a fancy car that most parents could not afford, but he is also extremely good looking. He popped the backseat's door open and escorted both of his kids into the kindergarten's premises.

Zayne sat on the floor, just like the other parents but it felt a little out of place for him as he was the only father who attended this event. The usual stigma regarding kids shall always be tied to a mother's responsibility but Zayne has never believed in that. He strongly believes that childrens are a result of both sides of parents, hence they should be a shared responsibility for both parents.

Lumi and Iver sat in front of their father, and they noticed the way their classmates were looking over to them. "Is that your daddy?" One of the classmates asked Lumi, the toddler about her size, with big brown eyes and short brown bob. Lumi nodded in return. "My mummy say he looks very nice." The comment made Zayne looked over at the parent who is in charge of the talking child and the mother looked away in embarassment.

As usual, Zayne is used to this kind of scenarios, even in hospitals he would always be stared at by patients, some even going as far as to state that they are cured because of how handsome he is. Zayne however, never bought into any of those bullshit. It is not because he is egoistic, but he does not want to be downplayed because of his looks. The saying goes, if you are handsome, you get a certain privilege amongst the normies. Zayne wanted to prove that idea to be a total scam as looks does not necessarily equate to one's actual capabilities in getting things done. Zayne being a prime example.

The homeroom teacher came in after the bell had finished ringing and she welcomed all of the parents' attendance. Goes on about the agenda for the day and that this event is held to encourage stronger bonds between parents and children and amongst their peers as well. "Lumi and Iver's father, would you like to be the first one to start?" She asked Zayne, palms out and pointed towards him.

"Sure." The man replied, clearing his throat and standing up, his towering height a stark difference from his children. He walked to the front of the classroom. Kids of their age would have thought of him being the giant in the beanstalk fairytale if only he had green skin and a big nose. Zayne pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose and greeted everyone. "Good morning everybody, my name is Zayne and I am the father to Lumi and Iver." He sent a smile towards his kids. "I am the chief surgeon and leading cardiologist for Akso Hospital."

Zayne talked about his job, keeping it brief and non-technical as he does not want to bore anyone within the room and he does not find the need to reveal too much of his personal information. Now comes the questioning phase, in which the parents would ask questions towards the speaker to get to know them better. "Dr. Zayne, since you are a doctor, would your work take up a lot of time?" One of the ladies asked, readjusting her position on the mat.

"Yes it does." Simple and clear-cut.

"Then do you have a wife to take care of the kids for you?" Her question turned into a flirtatious attempt and a couple of other mums started to tune in, some biting their lip and some fixing their hair. Does not take one to know what was already running through their minds.

Zayne sighed, feeling indifferent to her question. He purposely held his left hand in front of his chest and he twisted the wedding band that is evident on his ring finger, the diamond cut on the simple band refracting the sunlight almost immediately. The lady who asked her question seemingly tried to choke back on her own words, face darkening to a shade akin to a tomato. "Of course I do. A doctor would not be in his or her right mind to have kids and to work full time when our job requires us to be on call for 24/7."

He continued. "My wife is a full time deepspace hunter and we are both equally as involved in our children's lives, just on intervals for the weekdays, but on weekends, we take more time to nurture them." The way he phrased his answer made the whole room went silent, the only sound present being the chirps of the birds coming from outside of the window.

"We are home mummy!" Both of the twins shouted together, placing their shoes onto the shoe rack and dashing into the house to look for their mother. Zayne followed in suit, keeping an eye on them two so they do not end up falling.

"Hey there my babies!" You called out from your bedroom, already dressed up and wide awake. Lumi and Iver both in their tiny white uniforms with stripes of blue, the uniform colour of the kindergarten they both attended. Lumi's dark hair was tied into a neat braid, an effort from Zayne's Youtube history having a streak watch for braid tutorials. Iver's hair however is soft and fluffy, the same as his father’s and it sat on top of his head like a cloud.

"How was the parent meeting?" You asked them two, and they both enveloped you into a big hug, each on one side. Both of your kids looked very happy so you assumed that it went well.

"All of our friends brought mummies." Iver stated. "Nobody bring their daddies to school today." Lumi nudged Iver and whispered something into his ear in her low voice and the boy reiterated what her sister said. "Oh and Cathy's mummy said daddy looks very good."

"She said he is handsome." Lumi corrected Iver and they both turned in sync to watch your reaction. What could you possibly say? Your husband is good looking, it is a bound-to-happen situation but you somehow wished you were the one that attended the event instead. A small slither of jealousy bubbled in your stomach. Just a tiny one.

You were wondering if Zayne took the lady's compliment until you saw your husband walking into the room, with a stoic look. He has always been stoic, yes, but this time, something is different about this look of his. His white formal collared shirt hugged his muscled figure well, his simple black tie hanging loosely below the third button, extending one's sight on his wide sets of shoulders and his v-line figure. His sleeves were folded to his forearm, veins lining against the exposed part of his arms. He placed the car keys and his glasses onto the makeup table and sent you a short look, the side of his lips pulled up into a greeting and loving smile. "Good morning, y/n."

"Good morning, my love." You wanted to believe that Zayne did not entertain the lady's compliment, but you just wanted to hear him say it. So, y/n decided to go with an indirect approach. "Kids, can you wait for mummy outside? Daddy and mummy have to talk a little." Once both of the kids had left, you turned to your 'sulking' husband who was busy changing into a more comfortable outfit. "Come on, what happened?"

"Apparently, I was the only male figure there." He spoke informatively. "And particularly, I do not find it likeable when the other parents think that I am a single parent." His sentence got you figuring when did he ever cared about what people think about him? Has the cold Dr. Zayne finally loosened up? "I find it disrespectful towards you despite them meeting me for the first time." He sounds offended and yet providing the benefit of the doubt to the other parents.

You stared at him, perplexed at the situation. "So, conclusively, you do not enjoy going to the parent's meeting?" You crossed your arms in front of your torso. "Because you do not like the way I got low-key disrespected by the other mums?" A part of you is tasting victory at the tip of your tongue for how protective he is, another part of you---, okay there's no other part. It is the least Zayne could do to show you and the others that he is in a happy marriage and you are fully content with the way he had handled it.

There is not a need to address your concerns of the woman calling him handsome anymore because you know well enough if Zayne had wanted to cheat on you, he could have done it many times given his popularity amongst the opposite sex. But he stayed loyal through thick and thin and had never made you doubt his loyalty and love to you, this being one of his prime examples of being a fine husband.

Zayne chuckled under his breath and came closer to you, both of his hands held your arms and he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. "Low-key is too minimal of a word to describe their assumptions. It is disrespectful for them to assume I am a single parent, when I have a model wife right here with me." He ran his hands repeatedly up and down your arms to comfort you.

"Furthermore, I do enjoy going to Lumi and Iver's events at the kindergarten but perhaps next time, I would much prefer it if you went with me." He pulled you into his arms and you surrendered within his hug. "So that we can spend time with the kids and I get to indirectly dismiss any ladies who may be interested in taking your place." Your laugh further made him look forward to the upcoming event for his kids' kindergarten.

XAVIER & LUCIAN

"Daddy, what are you doing?" Lucian appeared from behind his bedroom door, one eye opened while the other half-lidded. Xavier took a peek at the clock hung on the wall. 10.30am. Lucian, however, is looking at the desk filled with all sorts of sewing needles and a bunch of fabric lapped over one another. "Are you making something daddy?" His eyebrows hinged upwards and he tried to get onto his tip toes to see what was placed on the table. Seeing his son struggling, he carried the little boy up into his arms and placed him on his lap. "I am trying to sew mum a toy, you know, like the ones that you can get from the souvenir shops and all?" Lucian looked between his father and the mess on the table, figuring out how does one make a bunch of cloths into a toy. The limitation of imagination a normal happening for a toddler his age. "What should we make for mummy?"

"A big teddy bear!" The son exclaimed, arms wide and laughing happily. Xavier chuckled along, his son not lacking any bit of his wife's enthusiasm. "Rabbit? Mummy likes rabbits." The son pressed his small index finger to his own lips, thinking to himself. The suggestion of his made Xavier's cheeks flushed red, remembering that one time when you brought him to an event and made him dressed up as a rabbit themed butler, and that is how he met Lucian's mum. Ironic, I know.

"Yeah, I guess a rabbit would do." A sigh escaped his lips when he noticed none of the cloths on the table are white. Unless his wife would be able to appreciate a multi-coloured rabbit toy, he did not want to risk it. "We need to go shopping for some stuffs. Can you go and change your clothes Lucian?" Xavier instructed and the little boy headed off to his bedroom as he was previously trained. As much as independence goes, you and Xavier had decided that some good habits have to be instilled from young. Dressing himself up being one of the disciplines you guys had agreed on.

Xavier got himself changed into a simple white t-shirt and a pair of wide jeans. Surprisingly and yet not surprisingly, Lucian came out of his room, holding a same blue jeans in his hand. "Daddy, can you help me? It is hard to pull it up-up." He pouted, handing Xavier the jeans. Steadying himself, Xavier pulled the jeans up his legs and helped him to button it. "Thank you daddy." The son grinned from ear to ear and held onto Xavier's hand, going over to put on his shoes.

Initially, they were going to ride the motorbike to get to where they are headed, but given the sun is high up the skies today, it calls for a chance for the both of them to enjoy a walk under the clear and warm weather. Xavier did brought along an umbrella as well, in case Lucian gets a little hot. Just because he enjoys the sun, he does not immediately assume his son would enjoy it as much. A lesson he had learned from his wife when you got a fever after walking with him under the sun despite you not being able to stand the heat.

The streets today are not as busy as the normal weekends, with minimal traffic and pedestrians. "Are you tired already?" Xavier observed his son, his footsteps slowing down and slightly wonky. Lucian looked up at his towering father and shake his head, hand coming up to rub his eyes and he yawned. Tears lined his eyes and Xavier bent down to carry his son up into his arms. "It's okay, you can take a nap in my arms, kiddo."

He walked down the street, passing by a coffee shop that looked newly opened. As he was looking through the menu that was on a stand outside, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Fishing it out of his pocket, he noticed that his wife is contacting him. "Hello? Baby?" He immediately pressed the phone to his ear. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I woke up to an empty house. Where are you and Lucian?" You asked and he gulped, luckily he had kept the threads and sewing kits and fabrics or else the surprise factor would be ruined.

"Lucian told me that he wanted to have a walk at the park. Since you are still sound asleep, I decided to bring him out for a small walk." Xavier explained, head tilting slightly to look at his son. Still sound asleep within his arms. "We will be back around 15 minutes. Is there anything you would like me to get for you?"

"Some coffee would be great, Xavier." You smiled on the other side of the line, same as him. "Be safe when you are at the park with Lucian alright? I will just rest a bit more at home." You informed him and the call ended with 'Bye' and 'I love you'.

Arriving at a craft store, he lightly woke his son up by kissing his cheek. "We are here Lucian, would you like to accompany me to decide on what colour to get for mummy?" Lucian blinked open his eyes, those light blue irises of his slowly darkened to make up for the lack of lighting within the store. The trinkets neatly placed in various baskets and boxes amazed the child, there are so many things he would like to get his hands on.

"Hi there, how may I help you?" A senior appeared from behind the counter. A lovely lady with a hunched figure, her own kitting works worn on her. Xavier leaned closer to the counter, noticing the vast amount of fabrics, of all sizes and textures mapped out behind the counter. There are also several pictures, in monogramic style, featuring the old lady in her younger days and what seems to be her children, standing side by side, smiling with her. Her light brown eyes lit up when she caught sight of Xavier and Lucian. "Oh, what a precious child."

"Thank you." Xavier thanked her. The old lady laid her knitting items down onto the table she had beside her and she reached her wrinkly hand up to wave it in front of Lucian. The young kid was quick to react, using his tiny hand to wrap around the lady's index finger and Xavier swear he could have seen the old woman regained her youth at that moment. Perhaps reminiscing about the times when she had her kids alongside her. "I am here to get some fabric so I can make a stuffed toy for my wife."

Now it is Xavier's time to have a hunched back. He never thought the process of sewing a stuffed toy would be so complicated. Can't blame him, given his royalty background in Philos and him being an esteemed deepspace hunter in this dimension, why would he even go near anything related to sewing and knitting? It is however, a part-time hobby of yours, as you mentioned that you find it to be peaceful and helps you to focus better. It is also a good past time on the days when you are not busy out on the field.

"Daddy, daddy look at that!" Lucian called out and his head turned towards the direction his son pointed at. Claw Machine Store. Why has he never thought of just taking things the easy route? Because he did not want to. Catching a stuffed toy from a claw machine will always surpass the level of easiness as compared to making a stuffed toy from scratch. Furthermore, the thought of you finding out he actually put in the effort to make the stuffed toy for you would leave your heart melting. He wanted that from you, or more like he just wants you to be happy.

Across the street stood the claw machine store, with stuffed toys filled to the brim for each of the machines, begging to be caught. Your son's eyes are fully attached to the store now, already making mental marks on which toys he would want in his room. Your husband lack that enthusiasm, staring down at the huge bag of craft items he had just purchased from the store. He is debating against himself. Whether to catch a toy or to make one. Either one could predict for different endings, but he knows that you would be happy for both endings. Perhaps he was slightly irritated for the measuring of the level for your happiness.

"Let's go Lucian." He grabbed his son and heaved him upwards, holding the child in his arms like how one carries a log and he crossed the empty street. His feet light and quick in his steps, a habit obtained from his long-time combat instincts. The borders of the tar road ended when he stepped onto the padded pavement, putting his son down and watched as the kid hopped into the store. Xavier was quick on his tail, worried that something might happen to his son.

Luckily, the little boy with the light hair is easy to spot amongst the assemblage of neon lights and bright colours emitting from the machines. Lucian stood in front of a machine, hands pressed against the glass panel, hair stained pink from the light strobe of the machine. "Can we get this one for mummy?" His grin was angelic, but Xavier stood there, slightly stunned. Did his son perhaps doubted his sewing abilities as well like how he doubted his cooking abilities? Well, there is a possibility.

"But I bought these already kiddo. I thought we were going to make a toy for mummy." Xavier tried to test the waters and his son only responded with gestures, tine finger tapped at the glass panel again, pointing directly at the bunny plushie. "Lucian..." Xavier tried to coax him again.

Lucian then faced his father, lips pursed together. "The granny told me that you might get hurt from sewweng." The last word that has not been registered in his vocabulary. "I don't want daddy to get hurt. I don't think mummy will be happy too." For a 3-year old, his sensibility is admirable. His son's words changed his mind, and he gave the little boy a card, the one where he usually reloads a bit too much tokens in it for any sorts of arcades. "Let's get one for mummy together okay?"

"You," You closed the bedroom door behind you, a pastel pink stuffed rabbit in your grasp. Lucian had already being put to sleep shortly after his dinner because the poor boy was dozing off on the dining table. Today could have been a long day for your son. You watched your husband shifted his gaze from the mukbang show on the television to you. "Are a bad liar."

"What do you mean?" His voice feigning innocence when he sat up in a better posture, leaning against the bedframe now. "What have I done this time?"

"Lucian told me that you stitched this yourself." Your teasing smile is apparent to him now, you wiggling the bunny in your hands to show him the evident of his works.

"Do you not believe me?" Xavier's eyes widened, here comes the puppy look. He got out of the bed and slowly approached you. His aura taking a turn from being accused to being the accuser. "Or, do you not want to believe that I stitched it?"

You took a step back, your lower back pressed against the makeup table and he caged you, arms extended on both sides of your figure and he leaned in, smirking and chuckling lowly under his breath. "I...I...didn't know you could stitch toys." Your breath hitched in your throat as you could feel his warm breath fanned across your cheeks.

"I feel a little bit upset now." He expressed, pressing a soft and longing kiss onto your cheek and you jolted in shock. "Your son and I had tried to get a toy for you at the arcade today but we kind of finished the credits because the machine was problematic." You would safely put a finger on the fact that he is just bad at claw machine games as per usual. "So, Lucian and I decided to go back to the store where we bought the craft products from and got the old lady behind the counter to give us a crafting lesson. Then this bunny is the outcome of the lesson."

You can feel your heart bloomed at his explanation. You felt bad for doubting his skills, and you even thought that the bad stitching of the toy is a trend nowadays hence you assume your poor husband went off fishing at the claw machine arcades. You should not have doubted his determination. "I'm sorry Xavier, I didn't mean to. I just never thought you would go so out of your way to make me a stuffed bunny. I just---" His index finger slid past your bottom lip at a painfully slow pace.

"Sometimes, you can choose other methods to let me know that you're sorry." He whispered quietly and leaned down to kiss you, the doll you were holding taken out of your hands and tossed behind him, landing on the floor with a thud and your vision blended out into both of your igniting passion.

Here you go lovelies, this is part two for the LNDS boys with their kids and you <3

Leave me your thoughts and love <3 Have a nice day to all me lovelies!!!!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #fluffy #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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ssahotchnerr · 4 months

Note

Can I request a fic based on these thought ❤️Aaron would 100% be the kind of dad that would spend all night building a barbie house or dolls house and would also very willingly sit and play barbie’s with his daughters.

well worth it

YOU'RE SO RIGHT THAT'S TOO CUTE cw; girl dad!aaron, bau!fem!reader, fluff <3

growing impatient and nearly beginning to doze off without him, you exited your bedroom in search of aaron. you've waited all day to be cozied up with him, and you simply couldn't wait any longer.

you've been comfortably waiting for over an hour; having gone through your full night routine, getting into bed, reading a few chapters of your current read. aaron even came in to change into his pajamas at one point, but trailed out again.

"hey you," you peeked your head into the living room, finding aaron laying stomach-down on the plush carpet. "you coming to bed? it's getting late."

"in a minute." aaron mumbled gently in response, his voice vaguely muffled into whatever it was he had in front of him. "as soon as i finish up here."

you ventured further into the room in curiosity, the closer proximity allowing you to see your daughter's new dollhouse set before him.

your nose crinkled lightly in amusement, a small smile forming on your face. and as if aaron could sense it - he peered up at you, a matching smile on his own lips as he saw your tickled expression, his brown eyes aglow.

"i promised i would have it ready in the morning." aaron admitted with a soft chuckle as he sat up, you scrambling down on the carpet to join him. "it's done, there's just so many damn stickers that have to be in certain spots." he grabbed the instruction pamphlet, studying it for a moment. "wallpaper for every room, that was a pain. things like a bath rug for the bathroom. even some go on the furniture - they're tiny, tiny stickers..."

as he trailed on and on, listing all the details, you fell quiet the more you followed along to his words, your eyes analyzing his face in slight astonishment.

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly again, his eyebrows furrowing quizzically as he tossed the pamphlet aside, the paper creating a fluttering sound as it fell. he grasped onto the sticker sheet once more, his lips drawing into a frustrated line as he struggled to peel one off - his large hands all to blame.

"it still surprises me out of nowhere sometimes, despite how much time has passed." you shook your head slightly in content, swiping the sheet from his hands. you easily removed the sticker, handing it to him. "you're listing off the necessities for a dollhouse. for our daughter. there was a time where the most i heard you talk was while giving a profile, and just, here we are now. i dunno, does that make sense?"

"completely." aaron agreed as his smile retook form on his face, placing the sticker where it belonged. "happens to me every day. how lucky i am to have you. never thought i'd be dad to another, yet alone a girl dad at that."

"it suits you." you grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "want some help? anything to get you to bed sooner."

aaron looked at the instructions again, a soft hum leaving his mouth as he thought. "again, it's pretty much finished foundation wise. but if you wanna start setting the furniture inside, be my guest darling."

side by side, the two of you worked together, rather giddily at that. quiet quips, playful comments how your own home could use these and whatnot (aaron groaned at your suggestion of wallpaper). warm but soft laughter, to prevent waking up jack and your little girl. you continued to help aaron peel the stickers as needed, and he, the notorious stickler, double checked you were putting items in the correct places 'according to the instructions'. you both knew once your daughter had her hands on her dollhouse, would nothing remain where it belonged, but that didn't stop him from teasing you; "did you put it in the-" "aaron, yes!"

finally, once in bed with aaron at your backside this time, one of his arms draped securely around your waist, you fell asleep with the heartwarming thought that your daughter's very first request in the morning - after her initial excitement - would be for aaron to play dolls with her. and of course, would he comply (just for a bit, and as long as she finished breakfast first). five minutes would surely turn into ten, fifteen, twenty depending on how early she awoke.

such brought up the potential risk of aaron being late to work, but if it allowed just a few more smiles to come from baby girl, it was well worth it.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

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ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Text

Virgin

Summary: Reader is a virgin. Daryl might as well be.

Alexandria // pre-Negan era ; established but unlabeled relationship

Super mild corruption kink vibes (if you squint) on both sides. Reader is a nervous wreck, Daryl is kinda clueless but charming, skilled, and smooth as ever.

This is long and I'm not sorry about it.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: slight age gap, oral (fem receiving), unprotected p-in-v, generally embarrassingly graphic and descriptive smut, drinking (not drunk sex), loss of virginity, profanity

Your hands shook as you filled two glasses with whiskey. Daryl would be over any minute. You had this date planned all week. Daryl was typically pretty busy with his bike or recruiting with Aaron, but he always made time for you when he could. Neither of you ever put a label to it -- boyfriend, girlfriend, partners, lovers -- it was all the same and those words never uttered from either of your lips. It just was what it was, and it made you both happy, whatever that meant. You did, however, often wonder what you really were to him. You liked to think he'd always choose you, but how could you know? You never would, not until it came down to an issue where you were a choice over something else.

You replayed your conversation with Rosita in your head all day, pacing nervously in your shared home with Rosita and Tara as you tried to rationalize how you would move forward with this newfound information.

"So, spill! How is it with Daryl?" Rosita asked curiously, drawing out Daryl's name with a sultry, mocking tone.

"Oh, things are good! He's coming over tonight, actually." You smiled softly to yourself.

"No, dummy!" She giggled, slapping your arm playfully. "I mean in bed! Is he rough? Tender? Does he have any weird fetishes? Is he a boob guy or an ass guy? I peg him for an ass guy but I could be wrong."

"Uh -- What?" You were stunned? In bed? You really never thought about that.

"Come on, don't be greedy! Share the details!" Rosita practically begged.

"Details.. Right. Well, there aren't any, really." You said slowly.

"What?" She gasped. "Don't tell me he's the vanilla missionary type."

"Vanilla what? No, I just mean we haven't really.."

"You haven't had sex?!" She gawked at you. "(Y/N), stop right now."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Men have needs, (Y/N). And so do we! It's the end of the world!" She shook your shoulders. "You gotta get your rocks off!"

Rocks off? What did that even mean? You weren't really that much younger than him. You were twenty when the dead began to roam the earth. But, you were a virgin then, and you were still one now. You never liked anyone enough to get so vulnerable with them. You heard the rumors at school when girls would give it up 'too easily,' or when the guys at your jobs would be snickering about a girl they slept with. What her boobs were like, how she sounded, all the flaws they found with her body. You just thought it would be so foolish to put yourself out there like that, to be one of those girls they were talking about. How could you ever trust someone enough to see and feel every part of you after all of that?

It wasn't that you didn't get turned on. You did, as much as anyone else. You just took care of yourself. Plus, it wasn't like the apocalypse provided many opportunities for your first time.. Or did it? Had you been missing signals? Passing by your chances to get naked with someone? Did he even want that? How would you approach it?

A knock at the door yanked you out of your thoughts. Oh god, was he there already? Was it time to get your rocks off?

"Hey!" You grinned anxiously at Daryl as you swung the door open. He noticed your nerves right away. He raised an eyebrow.

"Hey." He greeted. "Y'alright?"

"Huh? Oh! Yeah." You waved him off.

"Well, uh, can I come in?" He asked. You realized you were standing there, blocking his entry, which you never did. You always threw the door open and walked away, allowing him to enter on his own accord and make himself comfortable. You internally facepalmed.

"Oh, duh." You chuckled as you stepped aside and shut the door behind him. "I poured us some drinks."

"Cool." He nodded, stepping over to the table where two equally filled glasses stood waiting. He grabbed one and took a sip.

You glanced him over. Clean clothes, no sweaty smell; he bathed for you. His eyes scanned you just as quick. He was a little surprised at your dress. It wasn't extravagant, just a floral sundress that fit you in all the right places,but you never wore dresses unless Rosita and Tara forced you for an event. You were more of a jeans and a tee kind of gal.

"Pretty dress." He complimented.

"Thanks." You blushed, smoothing your hands over it.

"Rosita make ya wear that for me?" He wondered as he took another sip.

"Oh! No. I just-- Uh.." You stuttered. God, why were you so nervous? He had to know something was up. You never struggled to talk to him. He was you dearest companion.

"Just wanted to look pretty for me." He concluded with a smirk. Your face felt like it was melting right off the bone.

You chuckled nervously and grabbed your own glass, taking a gulp, hoping to calm your nerves.

"Sure you're alright?" He asked again.

"Mm-hm!" You hummed with an eager nod. "I'm fine!"

He shook his head and swirled the liquid around in his glass.

"You, uh.. Find us a movie for tonight?"

"A movie..? Oh! Right! Yes." You hurried over to the coffee table where a copy of School of Rock sat idly. "Do you like Jack Black?"

"Mm-mm." He shrugged. "Think I've seen his stuff before."

"Oh! He's funny. My brother used to watch all of his movies. Did you know he had a band?" You rambled.

"Nah." He shook his head. "Didn't know."

"It started with a T I think. I can't remember what they were called." You went on as you bent over to set the disc in the tray and get the movie ready. When you turned around you nearly dropped your glass. He was standing right behind you. "Oh.." You breathed. "You scared me."

She studied your every feature, trying to figure you out. You were never a mystery to him. He liked that. You never seemed to be keeping anything from him, never had an ulterior motive. You were always a raw person. He never had to try and decipher you like he felt he had to with most girls he liked in the past.

"Why you actin' weird?" He asked in a low husk.

"Weird?" You squeaked. "I'm not--"

"Ya are." He argued. "Real weird. And you never wear dresses."

"I do wear dresses sometimes--"

"Only when someone makes ya.You don't ever gotta dress up for me. Ya know that."

"W-- I know, I just.."

"Then why?" He catechized you mercilessly. Your knees felt weak under the weight of this burden of nerves and unsureness.

"I just..." You were at a loss. How could you play this off? You decided to try your best with whatever your brain could muster for an excuse. You straightened up and crossed your arms. "I just thought it'd be nice to look good for you, Daryl Dixon. Is that a problem?"

He smirked a little, finding amusement in your sad excuse for confidence. He shook his head. "Nah, no problem at all."

"Good. Now, excuse me so I can get out movie started."

----

About a half hour into the movie and you were still imploding. Was it time to make the move? How could you do that when you couldn't even bare to look at him? Hell, you two had never even kissed. You just... Watched movies, sat close enough to be touching, snuck off on forest strolls, you know, normal things. Or was that not normal? Were you supposed to have initiated something more by now?

He had been sneaking little glances at you the whole time, registering your faint expressions of worry. What was on your mind that had you so riled up? Had he done something? He doubted it. So what was it?

His arm that was outstretched on the back of the couch behind you twitched a little. He moved to play with your hair but you stood up abruptly. "I gotta go to the bathroom. Be right back."

You sped off to the upstairs bathroom and looked in the mirror. Your internal battles were written all over your face. He had to know something was up. Actually, you knew he did, because he asked you what was wrong like three times before the movie began. Shit, what now?

You took a breath and splashed some cold water over your face in efforts to ground yourself, patting it dry with a hand towel. Okay, (Y/N). It's time. Get over your fears and just make the move. As soon as you figure out what the move is, anyways.

Maybe you could just kiss him and he'd initiate the rest. That's how it works in the movies sometimes, right? Right. Exactly. You got this. Just go down there, and kiss him. No questions asked.

So, you marched down the stairs, strode to the couch, and froze, staring down at him with wide eyes as he sat there with a questioning gaze. Shit, what were you doing again?

"Everything alright?" He finally broke the silence that was somehow louder than the audio from the movie.

"What?" You asked, stunned, forgetting you had just stomped all the way down stairs and right over to him and then froze, blocking his view of the movie. "Oh, uh--"

He stood up just then, piercing blue eyes beaming into you.

"Y'gon' tell me what the hell's got your panties all in a wad or what?" He asked impatiently. "You're freakin' me out."

"I am?" You mumbled. "I just.."

Oh, screw it. You're backed into a corner, now. You only have one option. As quick as you could, you tippy-toed up and pecked him on the lips. You face turned red immediately. A small, amused smile crept up at the corners of his lips.

"All that just to kiss me?" He chuckled. "Didn't have to dress up for that."

"What? Uh -- Oh. Well, I.." You stumbled and tripped over your thoughts. It wasn't just to kiss him, and his reaction was not what you anticipated. Where was the movie moment? The fireworks and explosions? Wasn't he supposed to grab you by the cheeks and kiss you passionately and carry you to bed? What the hell?

"Ya what? Were ya that nervous? Thought I'd bite or somethin'?" He joked.

Bite? Is that a sex thing?

It was all too much. You were in way over your head. You had no idea how this was supposed to work. You felt nauseous, your face was numb, and suddenly you felt it rising from your gut to your throat. Was it vomit? Yes, but not the material kind.

` "Rosita said we should have sex!"You blurted, eyes wide like saucers as you slapped your hand over your mouth to keep anything else from escaping.

Word vomit.

Daryl was stunned completely. It took him a minute to process what you had said. He blinked.

"Rosita said what?" He shook his head, furrowing his eyebrows. "Don't listen to that. Don't gotta do that just 'cause she said. We can do that when ya want to, not when someone tells ya."

He turned around and took his empty glass back to the kitchen, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. It was admittedly adorable that the thought of going to bed with him would mess you up so bad all night.

You were still frozen solid with your hand over your mouth as he grabbed the bottle of whisky. You dropped your hand to your side and looked around for your glass. You picked it up off the coffee table and gulped down the last half of it. Just as he was starting to pour is second serving, you spoke up.

"I do want to."

He paused, peering up at you through his eyelashes without actually moving his head up to show you his face. He set the bottle down and thought for a moment.

"Uh, sex -- I mean." You clarified. Again, he tried not to laugh. There was no need for clarification. His deductive reasoning was very much adequate to handle such a statement.

He shook his head and poured his glass before he walked back over to you.

"Do ya now?" He asked quietly, eyeing you intensely as he took a swig. You swallowed a lump in your throat. Why did you feel so dry all of a sudden? He seemed to read your mind as he offered you a sip from his glass, which you gladly took.

"I do." You said unsteadily, failing to feign confidence.

"Ya sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You raised a brow, crossing your arms. He took the glass out of your hand and set it on the coffee table.

"Ya been drinkin'."

"I'm not drunk."

"But it wasn't your idea to begin with." He pointed out. "Le'me ask ya.. If Rosita never said nothin', would ya even be considerin' this right now?"

You didn't respond. He had a point.

"Exactly." He confirmed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "We don't gotta rush into nothin' like that."

"I've thought about it." You blurted. Blurting was quickly becoming a habit of yours, you were learning. You gulped.

"Have ya now?" He smirked. He knew that already. Of course you did, just like he had plenty of times. You were both adults with desires. He wasn't blind to that.

"Uh-huh." You nodded slowly. "Every time I--"

Your hand slapped over your mouth again. What were you doing? Were you really about to admit that you fantasized about him every time you touched yourself?

"Every time ya what?" He raised his eyebrows tauntingly. "Played with yourself? That's okay." He shrugged. "Everybody does that and if they say they don't, they're lyin'. What're you supposed to think about? Ya supposed to count the cracks in the ceilin' or somethin?"

While he enjoyed the way you squirmed under the pressure of this conversation, he still wanted to make light of it. He joked to make it easier for you.

"Do you think about it?" You asked quietly. His face lit up a little. It was much more amusing when the spotlight was on you.

"I mean," he shrugged. "What else would I think about?"

You blushed. He thinks about you when he touches himself too?

"I dunno.." You shrugged sheepishly. "I just..." You realized how foolish and childlike you must have looked to him right there. You straightened up and held your head high. "Well, I want to."

"I don't think ya mean that."

"I do." You insisted.

He looked you over. He definitely wasn't opposed to the idea, but he was nervous. He had no idea what kind of experience a pretty girl like you would have over his drunken one nighters and failed attempts at relationships in the past. You never told him you were a virgin. After all, it never came up.

"Okay." He nodded. "Wha'd'ya wanna do, then?"

You faltered. What?

"What?"

"Wha'd'ya wanna do?" He asked again.

"Uh..." You glanced around the room. What did he mean? How many ways were there to... What? "I wanna... have.. sex?" You said, more as a question than a definitive.

"Uh-huh. But there's lots o' ways to have sex."

He plopped back down on the couch, glancing at the movie credits rolling behind you. He had a feeling you'd back out when you realized that you were in over your head.

"Um, I want to..." You waded through the marshy wetland of thoughts and memories inside your head, trying to recall every piece of erotic information you had ever known. What was it Rosita had said? "Vanilla missionary?"

He stifled a laugh. "Oh yeah? That's all?"

Well, shit, man. What the hell else did he want from you?"

"And..." You trailed off.

"Y'ain't ready for all that yet." He spoke up for you.

"I am too!"

"No, y'ain't." He shook his head, still clearly amused.

"I am! I just.... I need you to teach me." You said.

"Teach ya what?"

"I'm... I'm a virgin." You said just above a whisper. Wow, that was embarrassing to say out loud. He nearly choked. He was not expecting that. At least it meant you wouldn't have high expectations that he couldn't meet or something.

"Really?"

"Yeah." You nodded. "But, I'm an adult and I know what I want. So, show me." You demanded.

----

After a long battle to get him there, you finally had him in your room. Both of you just standing there awkwardly in the dim light of a small lamp beside your bed.

"So." You began.

"Mm." He hummed, stepping closer to you, running a finger over your shoulder to brush the hair off of it.

"Do you... Wanna kiss me?" You asked. A small smile just barely spread on his lips. Of course he did. He just hoped he could make it as tender and special as you deserved.

He leaned in slowly and brushed his lips against yours, hovering there for a moment before he connected with them fully. Slow, sweet rhythm was what he aimed for. He wasn't sure how he was doing, but when he went to pull back and you followed him like a magnet, he figured he was doing okay.

He kissed you a little longer, hands resting gently on your sides to keep you steady as you swooned for him. If he hadn't been so sure he had to be the lead in this whole scenario, he would have melted into a puddle. Your lips were so soft, and you were just so damn sweet. He loved how eager you were for him. He just couldn't imagine taking advantage of you, which was why he made you walk in a straight line before he brought you up to your room. Just in case you had more to drink than he thought.

When he pulled away for real this time, you were desperate for more.

"Why'd you stop?" You pouted under your breath. He let out a soft chuckle.

"All in time, darlin'." He said as he guided you back to the bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress and you sat down.

"Now what?" You asked. He considered your question.

"Lay down." He instructed softly. You did.

He crawled over you. Your heart began to pound. Was this it?

He leaned down into your neck and started planting small kisses along the length of it. You gasped quietly. It tickled in the best way. Your hands naturally gravitated to his chest, resting them against him. He trailed his lips down to your collarbone as his finger slid the spaghetti strap of your dress down over your shoulder to keep it out of the way. His kisses lined over your collarbone and all over your chest, at least the upper half. You laid your hands on his shoulders.

He hadn't even touched you anywhere significant but your panties were absolutely soaked. Your eyelids fluttered a little. Why did this feel so good already?

He went to tug your dress down to expose your breasts but he paused. He looked up at you. "This okay?" He whispered as his finger hooked the dress. You nodded. He slid it down and took a moment to admire the sight beneath him. You were braless. Your nipples hardened with the cold air. Goosebumps peppered over your supple flesh.

He leaned down and went back to kissing softly around the mounds of breast, one hand gripping gently as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked. You gasped audibly at the sensation, reminding him that he was doing things right. Your hips twitched as the sensitive nerves shot tingles all the way down to your your pussy. Your walls twitched.

He worked his way to the other nipple, earning the same reaction. He bravely nibbled ever so gently on the second one, pulling the tiniest whine right out of your throat. He smirked a little. So reactive, you were. He almost felt guilty, like he was taking some kind of innocence away from you. Something you could never get back, not that you'd want to.

His hands slid up your outer thighs. He looked at you again for permission. You nodded. He slid the dress up over your hips and started kissing and nibbling your inner thighs. You twitched and exhaled at the more sensitive spots, and when he got as close as he could to your panties without actually touching them, he pulled back and looked up at you. You were flushed and eager, and it was killing him inside. He smirked again and placed a quick little kiss over your panties, right where he guessed your clit would be. You gasped and jerked at the sudden pressure. He hooked his finger under the waistline of your jeans, again, glancing up at you for permission. You didn't nod this time.

"Please.." You whispered.

He was on top of the world. Hell, he owned the universe. You were begging him for something he had dreamt of giving you.

He slid your panties down your thighs and over your feet, tossing them to the side somewhere. He stared down at your glistening slit. You were already dripping.

He traced a single finger over the front of your pelvis, feeling the smooth, freshly shaved skin beneath his callous.

"Ya didn't have to shave for me." He whispered. You blushed.

"I just--"

"Shh. It's okay." He cooed, gently running that same finger down your slit with painful gentleness. Your mouth gaped immediately, eyebrows pressed together. You had touched yourself plenty, but it felt so different when he did it. So new. "All this for me?" He teased, holding up his finger coated in your wetness. You blushed again. He raised his finger to his mouth and sucked it clean. You watched, helplessly infatuated with the dreamy sight below. Dreamy. Were you dreaming?

He lowered his face down, kissing softly over your lips before he finally swiped his tongue through your slit. You jerked and gasped, as you did for the next few seconds as he started to acclimate you to the sensation of his tongue.

"Relax." She whispered. You gasped again when his tongue glided flatly over your cunt, but you let out a shaky exhale and did as he said. You relaxed. When he felt you melt down into the bed, that was when he really got to work, flicking his tongue over and around your clit until he found a rhythm that you responded to. Your breaths and inhales slowly blended into a pattern of moans and tiny whines. He had you now, exactly how he needed you. Comfortable in bliss.

He slowed his pace then sped it up a few times, memorizing every reaction your body had to offer. When he stopped licking and started sucking on your clit, he slid a single finger inside you. If you were a virgin he was gonna have to loosen you up and get you ready. He wasn't one to gloat, but he was probably thicker than most, so he knew you'd need as much help as you could get.

You let out a moan as his digit slid inside you. That paired with the ache in your clit as he sucked at it was giving you visions of stars.

He got back to licking in little circles over your clit, slow at first, but then he sped up. He slipped another finger in, massaging your insides as your legs began to shake around his shoulders.

"Oh god." You breathed. You felt a buzz in your lower half, a warm feeling building in your lower abdomen. You were getting close, and he could tell. He wanted to make you wait. He wanted you to be as eager for his cock as you were for his mouth. However, he wasn't entirely sure he'd last that long. You were so tight around his fingers, convulsing and pulsating, and he hadn't felt the inside of a woman in a long time.

So, he took you all the way. He kept his pace with his tongue and fingers as he built you up, brick by brick, until you crumbled. It didn't take long at all. You shuddered and let out a loud moan, hips rocking against his face as you trembled and whined and rode out your orgasm.

It was more than you could have ever anticipated. Your fingers were nothing compared to what he had just done to you. You didn't think you'd ever recover.

He slowed down, just barely gliding his tongue over your clit and twitching his fingers inside you to ensure you rode out the full length of your high, only pulling away and slipping out when he was sure you were overstimulated enough.

Your chest was rising and dropping as you stared down at him and his wet mess of a chin. Your lids were heavy. He climbed back up to your face and planted a kiss on your forehead before he stood up off the bed and began to strip.

Oh, right, the sex part. You had forgotten entirely. Your eyes fixated on the bulge under his boxers. They grew wide when he slid those off, too, and the sight of his bare cock hit you. It was long and thick, and you had no idea how you were going to take all that. He didn't expect you to, though. He'd try of course, but he'd be carefully monitoring for any signs of pain.

When he climbed back on top of you, you stared up at him nervously. He leaned down and left little kisses along your jaw before finally resting his lips on yours. You ran your fingers through his hair as you kissed him back.

"Ya still want this?" He mumbled against you.

"Yes." You whispered.

He took your approval and looked down and guided his tip to your entrance. You bit your lip with anticipation when you felt the hard pressure of his head against you. He looked at you. You nodded. With that final gesture, he pushed the tip in. Your face contorted. He watched you as he pushed in a little more, and a little more, stopping when you whimpered.

"Y'alright?"

"Uh-huh." You squeaked.

"Y'sure?"

"Yeah. Keep going. I want you to." You insisted. Well, if you insisted.

He pushed in further, achingly slow until he bottomed out. When the base of his shaft connected with your pelvis, your eyes widened. You let out a deep moan. Your own fingers could neve stretch you that way, could never reach that far inside you. It was an entirely new feeling. You couldn't tell how you liked it just yet.

When you didn't protest, he pulled out and pumped back in, slowly at first, soft strokes, until your body relaxed and you were visibly acclimated.

When he was confident you could take it, that was when he sped up, fucking you harder and faster by the minute. Your body tensed up around him. He could feel your walls clench and pulsate around his cock. He was starting to think you might cum again.

He leaned into your ear.

"Can ya cum again for me?"

Your eyes glazed over, lids falling lazily over the majority of your vision. Between your moans and whimpering you managed to choke out the words; "I-- I think so.."

"Mm." He growled lowly. You gripped his arms tightly, tuning out every thought as you pictured his cock pumping in and out of you, hitting that sensitive spot inside you that you had no idea existed until that moment. A familiar warmth washed over you. Tension in your stomach built and built, until finally.

"Yes!" You gasped, as if answering his question again.

"C'mon, girl.." He panted. He was also terrifyingly close, teetering on the edge. He only held back in hopes he'd squeeze another orgasm out of you first.

A high pitched whine escaped you as your body buzzed, shivers crawling over you as you came. If your sounds weren't enough, he could feel the pulsation around his cock and he knew he was almost in the clear. He clenched his jaw, trying as hard as he could to hold it back while he fucked you through your climax. Eventually he just couldn't take it anymore.

He pulled out as fast as he could, groaning as he stroked and milked hot cum out onto your stomach. You were breathless and sex drunk as you laid limp on the bed, watching him. When he caught his breath, he leaned down and grabbed your panties. He used them to wipe you clean of your own juices and his, before doing the same for himself.

"Ya gon' make it?" He teased you in your incapacitated state.

"Yep." You said lazily. "'Cause I'm gonna need more."

He chuckled. "I need time to--"

"I meant tomorrow. And the next day, and the next day."

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