#the look on hunter's face....Dear God
Text
"Oh, hello, Vogue!"
pairing: Tom Blyth x actress!reader.
summary: invited by Vogue, you and Tom participate in a famous panel about answering quick questions.
word count: 1.323!
notes: here it is! i focused all day, without drama, on this writing and finished it minutes ago. — enjoy!
"We're, like, Patrick and Kat!" — Tom nodded in agreement, looking and paying attention to your words and almost forgetting that you were being recorded. — "Anakin and Padmé?" — You wrinkled your nose gracefully.
"Lady and the Tramp?" — He suggested, smiling tenderly and was won over by your laugh and a long touch on his arm made by you.
"Oh my god, yes!"
"Hi, Vogue!" — In a gesture of introducing yourself, you waved to the camera in front of you accompanied by an inviting and friendly smile. — "I'm Y/N."
"And I'm Tom Blyth." — Tom introduced himself to the camera and future viewers. — "… and we are about to play Off the Cuff." — He moved the small cards, which contained countless and random questions, and directed his eyes to you.
"Uh, a great entrance!" — You crossed your legs, making yourself comfortable on the chain, and held out the small cards as your eyebrows arched at Tom.
"Thank you, my dear." — He winked at you and took, carefully and planning a bit of suspense, one of the white cards; the topics were random, they could be about TBOSAS, behind the scenes or something related to your relationship. — Everything was a mystery. — "What was the last song you listened to?"
"Hm…" — You rested one of your hands on your chin, trying to fake a thoughtful image. — "A song, which is still unknown to me, that you hummed in the morning." — Your laugh was registered and echoed throughout the room, and Tom was amused when he remembered what happened. — "I should have recorded it!"
"It was a little chorus, and it stuck in my head." — He explained, placing the small card in a reserved place next to him. — "I don't remember the name of the song, but it must be saved on my phone" — His eyes fell on you again. — "Then i can sing for you again." — Tom uttered with melody and his lips curving in a shy smile.
"So adorable and romantic" — You tilted your head, with a pleasant and welcoming smile, at your boyfriend finding your words cute. — "Oh, i think i know the answer to that, what is an item you never leave the house without?" — Your hands shook the small card, waiting for your boyfriend's response.
"You definitely know the answer!" — Tom stated in slurred words accompanied by a laugh. — "In New York, the key to my motorcycle and i have it all the time." — His chin bowed a little. — "And maybe, in the future, in your bag."
"One day i'll ride it, you can be sure." — One of the cameras focused on her face, capturing her words, or rather, a promise that you would love to keep one day.
"And i'll be there, my love." — Blyth took another card. — "Among all the characters' looks in the film, which one would you wear?"
"Definitely, all the looks worn by Tigris." — You moved your hands. — "In addition to being beautiful, they seem to be so comfortable, especially the one where she talks to Coriolanus after he tells her about Lucy Gray." — The image of the aforementioned scene was then shown in the video with editing. — "Hunter looks so beautiful in them."
"Definitely." — He agreed
"With all the sets and locations in the film, which one was your favorite?" — Another card was discarded by you. — "Tell us!" — His voice sounded curious and excited by the older man's response.
"Hm, i loved recording them all." — Tom turned his eyes to an invisible fixed point. — "But, i think i choose the cabin." — His attention returned to you. — "Even with those mosquitoes and little bugs that i've never seen in my life."
"You were scared of most." — Your laughs came in sync.
"It was impossible not to be scared!" — Tom added. — "There was one that almost got into my shirt and another in the river." — Taking another card, Tom read the words written on it and continued with a peculiar and curious expression. — "Name one unforgettable thing i've ever done for you." — The question came out slowly, delicately and with a touch of enthusiasm; and several moments, memories flashed in his mind. — "I'm excited for this."
"My god, it's impossible to give just one answer." — A slightly euphoric and nervous question left your lips, and you laughed nervously as you tried to think and choose just one of the moments and deeds that Tom has done for you. — "It's so hard to choose one." — And it wasn't exaggeration or drama.
"You don't have to think so much, darling." — Tom's voice calmed your mind so tight and focused on the answer; nervousness was visible on your face. — "I see the gears in your head locking up." — He joked, trying to relax you and leaving the cards in his lap and resting one of his hands on your leg.
Finally, something landed in your mind; It was completely automatic. — Like a lamp being turned on when touched.
"Well, it's recent, but, it's stuck in my head!" — You started. — "Ah, during the L.A premiere and you were wearing a pendant necklace and there was my initial." — The way you responded was sweet, soft and passionate in front of the camera lenses and people in the room. — "And i was speechless, just admiring that little piece and feeling like the most loved person in the world." — You sighed, with your eyes shining against the oldest's blue orbs.
"In my world, you're." — Tom confessed, looking directly into his eyes and his hand still remained on his leg. — "It was a surprise and i was so excited that i wanted to show it to you ahead of time." — That tall, young British man smiled with passion, which burned in his chest and had no embarrassment in showing it.
"A secret that no one knows and can now be revealed?" —Another slightly peculiar question.
"I have a photo, actually, a polaroid in my wallet." — Tom ran his hands through the pockets of his pants, looking for what he had mentioned, but, from his disappointed frown, the object was not present. — "It's not here, so it must be in your bag."
"100% chance." — Your head nodded, nodding in confirmation. — "Which photo is it?" — You asked, curious and wanting to see her later.
"One of the ones Rachel took backstage and it quickly became one of my favorites." — Without specification, several photos scrolled through your head. — "It was in the forest, and you were wearing a helmet, that of Coriolanus, of peacekeeper." — Oh, that!
"I think I even posted it on Instagram!" — Either it was still in your gallery, with a favorite star next to it, or, actually, in your feed. — "She's so adorable, i had her as the wallpaper on my phone for a long time."
"Now, that one I know very well." — Your boyfriend looked at the card between his fingers and then at you. — "A song that reminds me." — Tom bit his lip, vibrant and with the answer on the tip of his tongue.
"Definitely Daylight by Taylor Swift." — You pointed your index finger in his direction, thinking about more songs or explaining why you chose her. — "It's impressive how you manage to fit so well into almost all of her songs.
"And in all of our playlists, you always, always add this song." — He wasn't lying. — "I'm sure it'll be in my Spotify retrospective."
"Oh, and also that line." — You sat down in the chair again. — "In a world of boys, he's a gentleman." — Tom's ears, and those of some people behind the cameras, were witnesses to your quick and small singing; a lyric, which was also from Taylor, where fans marked it and made a point of putting it in each of his edits. — They've already shared it with you in your DM and you've already saved some videos. — "There are so many songs, i can't choose just one."
"Perfect." — Tom murmured, as his deeply, crystal clear irises admired and contemplated you.
#tom blyth#tom blyth x reader#coriolanus snow#coriolanus#snow#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow fanfiction#coriolanus snow imagine#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus fanfiction#coriolanus imagine#the hunger games#the hunger games x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#ballad of songbirds and snakes
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
The Talk
Summary: Jack catches Dean and Y/N while they're being intimate. The Nephilim has a lot of questions about what he witnessed, and Dean takes it upon himself to answer at least the most important ones.
Pairing: Dean x female Reader
Category: Smut, fluff, some humor, 18+
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, penetrative sex, mentions of non-con, getting caught during sex
A/N: This story contains smut! Do not proceed if you’re under the age of 18! Thank you to the lovely people who expressed their interest in this particular story. I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Dean Winchester tag list? Send me an ask ❤️
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Y/N cried out in ecstasy. Her fingers curled around the headboard, holding on for dear life. Dean was ramming into her at a rapid pace, kneeling behind her. His skin was slapping against hers. Every push was forceful enough to take her breath away.
“How’s that feel?”, he checked in with her, bending forward, folding his body across hers, his lips grazing her cheek. His thrusts slowed down, but their force increased.
“So good,” she panted through the powerful sensations.
“You want me to keep goin’ like that?”
“Oh God, yes…”
She clenched around him, causing him to hiss loudly in pleasure. He could feel his body vibrate as a familiar intense sensation settled in his lower regions.
Until…
“What are you doing?”
Dean and Y/N tensed violently at the sudden intrusion. Their souls took a leap out of their bodies, prompting them to abruptly still their movements. No one else was supposed to be in the bunker. Their heads snapped towards the open door of Dean’s bedroom.
None other than Lucifer’s son himself, Jack, was standing in the doorway, his hands clasped in front of him, his head tilted to the side.
“Dammit, Jack!”, Dean roared, swiftly pulling out of Y/N and throwing his cream-colored sheets over her naked body.
Y/N’s eyes were wide, her breathing heavy. She gladly accepted the sheets to cover her body. A scorching heat lit up her cheeks. She felt like she’d just run a marathon, but with a mighty dose of embarrassment tossed into the mix.
“What are you doing?”, the Nephilim repeated, staring at the two hunters with a crease between his innocent eyes.
“Having sex!”, Dean snapped, snatching his pillow from the bed to hide his softening member.
Jack’s lips pursed as he mentally went through his vocabulary to find that particular word. When it didn’t ring a bell, he shook his head. “What does that mean?”
Y/N groaned internally and hid her burning face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening. What the hell was he doing back early? Jack and Sam were supposed to be out.
“It’s what adults do for fun,” Dean snarled, hoping that, by some miracle, Jack was going to take the hint and leave them alone.
Instead, the purest smile spread across Jack’s face. He looked even more interested in the subject now. “I like fun.”
Dean pushed his jaw forward. He was irritated, but he was also embarrassed. Y/N could tell by looking at his flushed freckled cheeks and the reddening tips of his ears. “You remember the talk we had about privacy?”, he demanded.
Lucifer’s son drew his eyebrows together. “Of course.”
“You wanna give us some of that?”, Dean barked, sarcasm dripping from his rough voice.
“Hey, Jack, I was wondering where you headed off to…”, Sam’s voice trailed off as he appeared in the doorframe. He took in the scene before him, quick to avert his gaze and clear his throat. “Jack, uh… Come on, we’ll give them some privacy.” Sam placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and steered him away from the door.
Dean groaned and let his sweaty forehead drop to Y/N’s shoulder. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered.
“But the door was open,” they could hear Jack protest down the hall.
Y/N sighed deeply, hoping that it would somehow rid her of the uneasiness that tickled her limbs. When Dean lifted his head back up and met her gaze, she was almost amused by the obvious disappointment on his face. Almost. The smile didn’t break through, but her eyes reflected her bashful internal laughter.
“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbled, frowning as he spotted the beginning of the awkward smile on her face.
The mood had definitely been killed.
“Come on…” Y/N gently patted Dean’s bare thigh. “Let’s get dressed. It’s time for lunch, anyway.”
“Dean?”, Jack asked.
The Nephilim, Dean and Sam were sat at the library table, their noses buried in books and newspapers. The earthy scent of paper wafted through the air.
“Hm?”, the older Winchester brother half-heartedly replied, raising his mug to his lips.
“Does… sex… hurt women?”
Sam gave the Nephilim a confused side-glance while Dean audibly gulped down the hot sip of coffee. “What?”
“I think you hurt Y/N,” Jack stated with an accusing tone in his voice.
Sam’s lips transformed into a tight, thin line to prevent him from laughing.
Dean sent a glare his brother’s way. He was not in the mood to give the son of Lucifer ‘the talk.’ “It’s none of your business what I do with Y/N. Capiche?”, he grumped. The hunter’s muscles tightened in his jaw as he took another sip of his coffee.
“But I don’t want you to hurt her.”
“I wasn’t hurting her,” Dean huffed, putting down his mug. He didn’t want to defend himself for what Jack had witnessed, but if someone claimed that he hurt Y/N, and that he hurt her on purpose, the hunter was bound to get offended. “Relax.”
Sam chimed in, showing mercy for his brother. “Jack, Dean would never hurt Y/N. You know that.”
“But it looked like he was.”
Dean sighed grumpily and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “I was doin’ somethin’ she likes. Okay? That’s rule number one with sex,” he explained, lifting a single finger in the air for emphasis, “You both need to enjoy it.”
“So, it’s possible not to enjoy it?” Jack’s forehead furrowed, causing his brows to move closer together. “I thought adults do it for fun.”
“Yes, it’s possible, but that should never, ever happen,” Dean clarified, “You need to communicate, make sure you’re on the same page.”
Jack’s eyes squinted at the unfamiliar expression. “On… the same page?”
“Yeah. For example…” Dean briefly shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to believe he was actually talking about this to Jack, of all people. “Uh… Y/N told me she doesn’t want me to leave hickeys on her body, so I can’t do that. Even though I’d like to.” At the thought of marking Y/N up as his, he ran his tongue across his lower lip. “I’d really, really like to…,” he muttered to himself dreamily.
Sam scoffed, chuckling slightly and shaking his head. Never in a million years could he have guessed that his older brother was going to give Satan’s son the talk one day.
Meanwhile, Jack nodded, clinging to Dean’s every word. “So, it’s about… permission,” he concluded.
“Exactly,” Dean responded, snapping his fingers and pointing one at Jack. He felt something dangerously close to pride swell in his chest as the boy drew the correct conclusion. “Bottom line is, you can only do what your partner allows you to.”
Jack nodded and let the information sink in for a second. Then, one of his eyebrows rose up and he inquired, “So, Y/N is your… partner?”
The question was a curveball to Dean, whose mouth puckered in reply. He was stunned into stammering, “Uhm, well…”
Curiously, Sam sat up straighter and watched his sibling’s reaction like a hawk.
“Yeah,” Dean said finally, shrugging his wide shoulders, which, to his surprise, suddenly felt a lot lighter.
Jack clasped his own hands on the table, copying Dean’s posture. “Are there any other rules?”
“Yeah. Like protection.” When Jack opened his mouth to ask further questions, Dean silenced him by lifting his pointer finger back in the air. “But I ain’t teachin’ you about that, kid. One lesson at a time.”
Dean got up, empty mug in hand, and headed toward the kitchen. As he entered the hallway, he almost bumped into Y/N, who was standing right there, resting against the wall. She smiled up at him, irises gleaming with joy and a little bit of mischief.
“What’s gotten you all cheerful?”, he demanded playfully, eyebrows arching.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, grinning at him.
Dean narrowed his eyes at her. But he didn’t get to say another word when Jack’s bewildered voice suddenly rang through the library.
“Sam… What are hickeys?”
When Sam’s groan reached their ears, Dean and Y/N burst into quiet laughter, leaning forward, their heads almost bumping into each other.
That night, Y/N listened to Dean’s calming heartbeat, cuddled up against his torso. He sighed with content when she pressed her lips to his anti-possession tattoo.
“You know… I really liked how you gave Jack the talk today,” she said.
Dean’s chest rumbled with a low chuckle. “So, you were eavesdroppin’.”
“Guilty.” Y/N laughed softly for a second, smiling at the green-eyed hunter who was holding her like she was the most delicate thing in the world. “But seriously... I liked how you taught him about consent.”
His fingers traced an affectionate pattern on her hip. “Well, that's sex 101, isn’t it?”
She nodded against his skin. “It should be.”
Dean slowly brushed his fingertips across her ribs and felt her muscles contract. When he realized she was ticklish, he dragged his fingers along the same spot again. He enjoyed the sweet sounds of laughter that spilled from her mouth. He loved having her in his arms, whether they were having sex or not. She made him feel good. About his life. About himself.
“So… I’m your partner, huh?”, Y/N asked, catching his hand in hers so he would stop tickling her. She proceeded to bite her bottom lip and sneak a peek at Dean’s face while she waited for his response. So far, neither of them had brought up the question of what exactly they were to each other.
At first, she was met with complete and utter silence. That was okay. Truth be told, she had no idea what to expect. She knew they each had their own difficulties when it came to relationships. But she needed to know if Dean had told Jack the truth, or if he’d just called her his partner to appease the young Nephilim.
Then, after a few seconds, Dean gave his silent reply. The way he clenched his arm around her, squeezed her against him, and firmly kissed the crown of her head told her more than words ever could. He then transformed his response into one single word, quietly whispering it into her hair. “Yeah.”
“Hmm,” she hummed and hid her smiling face in the crook of his neck. His embrace was the most comfortable place in the entire world. She felt his chest rise and fall steadily, heard the deep breaths coming from his nose, and shut her eyes. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt at peace. “Dean?”, she asked after a few minutes, wondering if he was dozing off.
“Hm?”
“I think you still owe me an orgasm or two.”
His sleepy, spiky-haired head rose up the second she finished her sentence. He rolled on top of her body, grinning like a Cheshire cat while she giggled her heart out.
“Just two?”
“Ohh, are we feeling ambitious tonight?”, she chuckled, circling her arms around his neck.
“It’s on, sweetheart,” he rasped, molding his lips against hers in a breathtaking kiss.
Tag list: @eevvvaa @waynes-multiverse @myloversgone @deandreamernp @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @alagalaska @libre1rose8 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @woodworthti666 @deanwanddamons @awkward-and-indecisive @snowlovespie @desimarie12 @golden-hoax @leigh70 @mimzy1994 @impalaslytherin @globetrotter28 @spnwoman @mrsjenniferwinchester @may85 @100percentserenity @tmb510 @roseblue373 @iamsapphine
#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester fluff#dean winchester smut#dean x reader#dean x you#dean x y/n#dean winchester x y/n#supernatural imagine#spn imagine
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Without Expectation
You know how everyone is talking about how Astarion has a difficult relationship with hero characters bc he felt abandoned by them when he was suffering? What if, during his 200 years of imprisonment, he’d met one? Very much inspired by this post
cw: pre-game astarion, Cazador, prostitution and non-consensual sex alluded to but never shown, healing from trauma, Astarion being sexualized, Astarion sexualizing himself, objectification, blood drinking, he’s kind of sexually aggressive in this but it's just because he’s scared and he doesn’t know anything else, reader is from a group of monster hunters that I made up who have been harassing Cazador, they are separate from any in-game monster hunters who are less Astarion friendly
Astarion x gn reader
Word count: 6k
He was charming. Pretty words, perfect hair, a dashing smile, and hollow eyes.
The second Cazador had said the word, he was all over you.
You couldn’t turn down the offer. Not for the promise of pleasure, that was the last thing on your mind looking at him.
But if you got him alone you could talk to him, outside of the watchful eye of his master.
He had you pinned to the wall of your bedroom before you could even say a word. You had to shove him back and he stumbled, a frightened, hurt look crossing his face before the practiced charm slipped easily back.
“Oh, you like to play rough, do you? That’s fine with me, I don’t mind being pushed around a little.”
“Stop,” you pleaded with him. “Please, can I just speak for a second?”
“Say whatever you’d like, darling.”
“Listen… Astarion, wasn’t it?”
He smirked at you. “It is, but you can call me whatever you'd like.”
“Astarion, you don’t have to do this.”
“Of course I don’t. I want to. Don’t you want me?” He moved to get into your space again but you stepped back and he didn’t follow.
You did your best to push past his flirtation. “How often does he make you do things like this?”
“Like this? Not often. My lovers don’t typically live to see the morning. Although I suppose it doesn’t make much difference to me,” he said with a laugh, one that felt practiced and put on.
“Oh.” You couldn’t imagine it, being forced to not only be with so many people but to send them off to their deaths night after night.
Your eyes drifted down as your thoughts spiraled and he grabbed your chin, pulling your face up so your eyes met once more, directing all your attention back to him. “Is that what’s bothering you, darling? I promise Cazador has given me very clear instructions on how well you should be treated.”
“No, that’s not the problem.” You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to figure out what to do. “God, this is such a nightmare. Listen, I can sleep on the couch, you should take the bed,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the loveseat tucked in the corner of the room.
“Come now, that’s not necessary my dear,” he practically purred at you.
You felt a little more nauseous with every pass he made at you. “You really don’t have to do that, I swear. Not in here at least. It would probably be prudent to pretend in front of Cazador but that’s an issue for tomorrow.”
“Even if you don’t want sex,” he said with a little roll of his eyes. “The couch is not necessary. I promise I won’t bite.”
It was a bad idea. You knew that much. But the bed looked so soft and comfortable and the couch wasn’t even long enough to fit all of you if you tried to lie down.
You sat on the bed tentatively and sunk into the mattress. It was by far the most comfortable bed you’d ever been in and you ran your hand along the silky sheets. “Alright, but we’ll just be sleeping,” you said with a pointed look in his direction.
In a heartbeat, you were pushed back onto the mattress and he was looking over you, his hands on either side of your head as he grinned down at you. “Are you certain, my dear? I could make you feel so good.”
“I’m sure you could,” you said with a smile, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes lit up at the contact and it was clear that he thought he’d done it, that he'd won you over. “But that won’t be necessary.”
You leaned up and pressed a kiss into his forehead before gently pushing him off of you back towards his side of the bed.
He seemed wounded and frightened by the gesture, a far cry from the practiced seduction you’ve seen from him so far. “You don’t want me.”
“I assure you that is not the problem,” you said, careful to keep your voice gentle.
He did not seem convinced, a tragic vulnerability starting to seep through his facade.
As he stared at you, a worried look plastered across his face, you grabbed some of the many pillows from the top of the bed, placing a few between the two of you.
He scoffed at the sight. “I don’t know what those are meant to stop. Not exactly impenetrable security against a rabid vampire.”
“They’re not for you. I have a tendency to get… grabby, in my sleep.”
He huffed, folding his arms as he finally conceded ground and laid down next to you. “Good. Maybe you’ll be more interesting than when you are awake.”
You doubted he’d find you snuggling a pillow particularly interesting but you let him interpret your words however he pleased.
“Perhaps. Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to sleep now.”
“It’s not all the same to me, thank you very much.”
“Alright,” you said with a yawn. “Goodnight.”
You woke up with your arms wrapped around a pillow from your little wall, holding it close to your chest as you eased your eyes open to see Astarion unabashedly staring at you.
He spoke as soon as he caught wind you were awake. “You weren’t kidding about being grabby, you’re practically smothering the poor thing.”
Your face warmed slightly at his words, embarrassment fluttering in your chest. “It’s an old habit. What about you, couldn’t sleep?”
“Elves don’t sleep.”
You suddenly felt incredibly foolish. “Oh. Right. So you’ve just been sitting there all night then?”
“I tranced for a while. It was certainly a more boring night than I expected.”
You yawned as you sat up, setting the pillow you’d been holding behind you. “Terribly sorry to disappoint. Hopefully, there will be many more boring nights in your future.”
He pulled back, cocking his head to the side. “What?”
You realized you hadn’t told him of your little scheme yet. “I was thinking. This whole meeting with Cazador was more of a formality than anything. He’s killed too many of our people, we need to make this deal, at least until we can figure out how to sort him out for good. But he doesn’t know that and maybe, if you’re amiable to it, I could throw in a final term to the deal. Where he has to give me… well, you. Not that you should be his to give, but I figure if I can save someone from this place and I didn’t, what kind of a monster would I be?”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you want from me?”
You shrugged. “I’d say nothing if I thought you’d believe me. If you need to rationalize it, let’s just say it’s an ego boost. Now I get to feel like a good person and you get to leave this place. As long as I don’t mess it up too badly.”
Mistrust was written across his face and it seemed like the first completely honest emotion you’d been able to pull from him.
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s fine, we can fix that after I get you out of here.” You sighed. “Wish me luck. I’m an awful liar.”
He trailed after you as you left, seemingly incapable of letting you out of his sight.
Maybe he was. Maybe he’d been ordered to do so. You had no way to tell. It made your heart hurt, the sight of him here, the idea of Cazador’s other spawn that you couldn’t save. At least not yet.
He followed you like a loyal pup all the way to Cazador, who was lounging in a chair without a care in the world.
He chuckled at the sight of Astarion behind you. “And how was my spawn? To your satisfaction?”
You swallowed down that bile that rose in you as you said, “He was a delight. I was wondering, in the name of our agreement, is there any way I could keep him? It’s just that I’ve grown quite fond of him so very quickly.”
Cazador laughed, a putrid, callous thing. “I’m sure. He can be quite… convincing. And this would make you amenable to my terms?”
You nodded. “All the monster hunters in Baldur's Gate will focus their attention in… other places. You and yours will be entirely safe from our wrath.”
“And if we’d like to push you in the direction of another creature?”
You gave him a tactful nod. “We could be convinced.”
“Good.” He laughed once more. “Typical monster hunter. You pretend to hate us and yet you want to keep a vampire pet.”
Astarion leaned into your side and you felt a little queasy at the performance as you snaked your arm around him. “Like I said, he was very convincing.”
He sighed. “You drive a hard bargain. As you wish, you shall have your terms. Just tell me if he doesn’t behave. I can get him sorted right out for you.”
It took everything you had not to lunge at him thinking about everything he’d put this poor man through. “Of course, but I’m sure I’ll be able to manage just fine on my own.”
You got out of there as fast as you could. Even if you hadn’t had Astarion with you, you didn’t want to spend any longer than absolutely necessary with the monster.
You pulled him through the streets back to the house you were staying in, racing against the sun. You barely had enough time to get him there and pull him inside, but you had a feeling he’d prefer this mad dash over staying another day with his master.
Regardless, the whole time your eyes were darting around, looking for places you could hide him should you need to.
You wondered what you’d even do if it had come to that. Just sit with him for the rest of the day, you supposed, unless he wanted to try a risky maneuver with a thick blanket.
You tried to pull him inside but it was like an invisible wall had stopped him in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look and he grumbled, “You have to invite me.”
“Oh! I’m sorry, come in!”
As soon as the words left your mouth, he rushed in beside you and you set yourself to making sure all of the widows were fully shut, pulling the curtains tight.
He watched you dart about, tugging at the thick fabric. His gaze was judgemental but at least the emotion seemed genuine.
As soon as you were mostly certain he wouldn’t burn to death, you turned to him. “We won’t be leaving for a while so you can make yourself at home. If you need anything just let me know, okay?”
You didn’t see him for the whole day. You were busy and he made himself scarce. You couldn’t blame him. You imagined he’d long since made it a habit to avoid being seen by anyone. Anyone except his forced prey, you supposed. But still, he hid away from them, in his own way.
“Astarion, can you come look at this?” you called out as the sun finally dipped fully below the horizon, hoping he was close enough that he could hear you. And hoping he would come even if he did.
It took a few minutes but eventually he came sauntering down the stairs.
“Yes, my dear?”
You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the window, gesturing out at the carriage that was illuminated by torches alone, shrouded in the thick darkness of the night. “Do you think it’ll be alright? The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”
He stared out at the carriage you’d spent hours painstakingly attempting to make impenetrable to light. You’d painted the windows black, hung blankets over top of them, shoved old linens in the cracks in the doors.
He cautiously headed outside, staring at the carriage with furrowed brows. “Did you do this?”
“Yeah, I tested it during the day. It seemed pretty solid but obviously you couldn’t check then. I could bring a torch around the outside if you wanted to check for yourself.”
He looked at you like you were mad. “We could have just traveled at night.”
You shrugged. “It’s a two-day journey and I didn’t want to depend on inns and shelter along the road to protect you during the day. This seemed safer.”
He opened the door, sitting inside and looking around at the painstakingly covered windows and cracks, and you couldn’t tell if he seemed uncomfortable because he was worried about the sun or because of the sheer amount of effort you’d clearly put into it.
“Do you want anything for the ride?” you asked, pushing forward. “Some books or something? I could go get them for you.”
“Your company is all I could ask for.”
“Okay, but for real though. Never mind, I’ll just get you some books.” You doubted you’d be able to pull an honest answer from him for a very long time, if at all.
After a frenzied book run, the two of you were ready to head off, locking yourselves inside the carriage until the sun set once more.
The bumps of the carriage jostled the two of you as you rode. The flickering orange light of two lanterns, one for each of you, barely illuminated the darkened space and you couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic.
He was sitting, staring at you, book untouched on his lap.
You’d brought as many options as you could think of, romance novels, epics, history, a horticultural book that had pulled a snort and an incredulous look from him when he’d seen it.
He didn’t seem much in the mood for reading and under his unblinking gaze, neither were you. Instead, you stared at the painted-over window, wishing there was anything else you had to look at in the dim light.
“Admiring your paint job?” he asked with a chuckle as you continued to refuse to meet his unblinking gaze.
“Something like that.” You decided to take the broken silence as an opportunity. Anything was better than being silently stared at and you weren’t sure you’d get a better chance to ask him. “Can I ask you something that’s potentially insensitive?”
He smirked at you with that practiced allure. “Ask away.”
“Were you one of his favorites? Cazador's, I mean.”
He scoffed. “In a way. He loved torturing me more than anyone else.”
You leaned forward. “So it might be easier to convince him to part with the others?”
His eyes narrowed at you and you watched as he tried once again to figure out what your angle was. “You’ve got a real bleeding heart, don’t you?”
“We’ve been unable to hurt him for so long, failed at it for years and years. Every day you were there was because we weren’t good enough at what we did. I can’t help it, I feel a little responsible for you. For all of you.”
“Oh please,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Like I’m not one of the monsters you hunt.”
You cocked your head to the side. “Why would you be? Who have you hurt?”
He laughed a cold, cruel laugh. “Darling, you have no idea how many people I’ve hurt.”
“You haven’t though. Cazador hurt people through you, sure. But you didn’t hurt anyone, not really. You’re a victim just as much as they were. At least we managed to save some of them.”
He squirmed in his seat. “I think they might disagree.”
You shrugged, something delicate in his eyes telling you not to push. “Maybe.”
The rest of the ride was completed in silence, not only fueled by your discomfort but now also Astarion’s irritation with you.
Your driver gave a knock on the door as the sun disappeared, just as you’d instructed him to, and you opened it to find a quaint little inn surrounded by woods in front of you.
He left to take care of the horses and you led Astarion inside, securing two rooms for the three of you. In a perfect world you would’ve gotten Astarion his own room, but his vampirism wasn’t exactly subtle and you couldn’t help but worry that some overzealous patron of this establishment might take it upon themself to rid the inn of the supposed monster.
You led him up to the room you’d be sharing and as you entered, he stood in the doorway and took in the sight.
You were quick to give him a quiet, “Come in,” but he brushed you off.
“That’s for houses, not individual rooms. I just…there’s two beds.”
You nodded. “Yup. For two people.”
He eyed you suspiciously, as if the two beds might be part of some devious scheme. After a few moments, he seemed to decide it was just a normal room and took the bed nearest the door.
He seemed paler than he’d been the night before and a horrible thought struck you. “Oh my god, you need to eat! I haven’t been feeding you.”
He chuckled. “Good luck with that, there aren’t many disposable animals out here. At least, not ones you could catch. Unless you want to let me at the horses, but that would leave us in quite the predicament.”
“I mean, you could drink from me. Not everything, obviously, but I could spare some.”
You held out your hand to him, presenting your wrist and looking at him expectantly.
“I’m not allowed to drink human blood,” he spat back at you, the bile of hundreds of years of resentment lacing his words. “Cazador doesn’t allow it.”
“You’re not his anymore. He gave control over to me and I say you can do whatever you’d like and that you don’t take orders from anyone anymore. The offer stands.” You went to withdraw your hand until his hunger bested his hesitation but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away.
“Well,” he said with a sly smile. “As long as you’re offering, I would be a fool to turn you down.”
It was so strange how quickly it happened, how easily he could slip right back into that faux confidence.
He leaned towards you and you backed away at the hungry look in his eyes, one you were more than familiar with.
“If you really want to I’m sure there’s ways we could make this a more rewarding experience for you,” he said and in a heartbeat he maneuvered himself over you, his hands interlaced with yours and holding you to the mattress.
You pulled yourself back in an instant, leaning against the headboard as you presented your wrist to him once more.
You didn’t fault him for it. After years of surviving with it, of course he would keep trying to draw you in with his sexuality. The instinct couldn’t be snuffed out overnight.
You’d bat away his attempts as many times you needed to, try and make him understand. You weren’t sure if it would ever work, not fully, but you’d keep trying.
“It’s easier this way,” you said in explanation, giving him something to latch onto that didn’t feel like rejection.
He rolled his eyes. “Easier, I’m sure. Typical, I got a master who’s allergic to fun.”
“I’m not your master. You can do as you please, could leave now if you wanted.”
“And go where?” he snapped. “You can pretend if you must but I know what I am. I know where I stand. I am a lot of things, but I am no fool.”
“I know.”
He studied you for a moment, eyes daring across your face before he pulled your wrist towards him, digging his teeth into your flesh.
The sharp pain lasted for a heartbeat before it faded away to a dull ache. He lapped at the open wound, his put-on demeanor disappearing as he got lost in it.
He cradled your hand like it was a lifeline. In a way, you supposed it was.
You could feel yourself getting lightheaded as he fed but you refused to stop him. You would not command it of him, would rather die than force him into it. You let out a quiet whine, your form slumping back into the bed.
He drew away immediately and your blood began pouring onto the white sheets of the bed.
A moment of panic reflected in his red eyes before he grabbed the corner of the sheets, wrapping them around your wound.
“There,” he said, his voice quieter than his normal bravado. “Should keep you from bleeding out.”
Your eyes were locked on his collarbone, a dark bruise becoming visible as your blood fled through his previously starved body. The longer you looked, the more of them you could see, peeking out from under his clothes.
“Oh, you poor thing,” you said in hushed tones, hands moving to reach for him before stopping in their tracks, unsure if your touch would be wanted.
He was otherwise preoccupied, his eyes alight with something entirely new. He looked stronger, livelier. There was a warmth to his cheeks you’d never seen before.
You resisted the urge to touch him, to see if he’d become warmer as your blood had begun to run through him, bringing a new light to his eyes.
“You should get some rest,” he said, looking down at you lying exhausted and drained on the bed. “You certainly need it.”
You barely had time to laugh at his comment before you’d drifted off.
The ride back was as quiet as it had been the day before, if a little less uncomfortable. Astarion still stared for much of it but he at least pretended to read his book. The healthy flush to his cheeks seemed to come with a bit of newfound comfort and ease around you that made you puff up with pride, even if you still felt a little woozy from the night before.
“Here we are!” you said as a knock sounded on the door, opening it and leading him inside your home. It was an old manor of your family's, not particularly big, right on the edge of nowhere, and perhaps falling apart just a little but more than suitable for your purposes. “It’s a little bit of a mess but I kind of like it that way. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”
You decided to put him in a room that was just a few doors down from your own, pointing out just where he could go to find you if he needed anything.
You laid down to sleep once you got him situated, more exhausted than you typically were at this time of night. Despite how tired you were, presumably from the blood loss, you had to fight the urge to go and check on Astarion just one more time.
You hadn’t known him for long but you’d already developed an intensely protective instinct towards the man.
You did your best to put him out of your mind when a knock sounded at the door.
“Come in,” you called out. You made no attempt to suppress your smile when he peeked in the doorway.
“I think I’ve grown accustomed to your company,” he said sheepishly, and for once it didn’t seem like he was trying to seduce you. He seemed worn down, looking just as tired as you felt, a defeated air present on his face.
You were too tired for subtlety, opening your arm to him and muttering a sleepy, “Just come here.”
He seemed grateful to not have to explain himself. To not have to ask.
He sat on the bed, looking down at you where you lay.
“No pillow this time?” he asked in that snide voice he used so often.
“I can if you want. Just thought you might appreciate the closeness.”
He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be your little pillow to hug. Fair warning though, I run cold.”
You tried and failed to suppress a yawn as he got into bed beside you and you wrapped your arms softly around him. “I don’t mind. G’night.”
“Goodnight, my dear.”
Just like that, it became a bit of unspoken habit between the two of you. You felt it might honestly kill him to comment on it, to ask you for affection. But with no words, no pleasantries, there he was every night, beside you.
One night, about a week into his residence in your home, he seemed more restless than normal, fiddling endlessly with your hand, incapable of sitting still. You turned to him with a pointed look. “Come on, out with it, it’s not good to go to bed with things left unsaid.”
He scoffed. “Why not?”
You shrugged. “I don’t know, what if I die in my sleep or something.”
“If you die in your sleep, I think I might have bigger problems than things I didn’t say to you. Namely, some monster hunters who might take issue with the vampire you died next to.”
You shook your head. “No, I already told them about you, they wouldn’t hurt you.”
That seemed to take him by surprise, pulling back a bit at your words. “You did?”
“Of course I did. Now come on, out with it, what’s going on it that head of yours?”
He sighed dramatically and flopped back on his pillow. “It’s really nothing.”
“Not if it's bothering you. I want to help.”
“Did you mean it?” he blurted out, like the words had to be forced out of him quickly or they wouldn’t come out at all. “When you said you wanted to save the rest of them too?”
“Of course I did. And I will. At least if I have anything to say about it,” you said quietly, your stomach turning at the thought of the other spawn you’d left behind.
He turned from you as if you’d slapped him. “Right. I’m going to sleep in my own room. I should’ve been in there anyway, this was silly. Goodnight, darling.”
You chased after him in a heartbeat, catching up at him before he’d even managed to open his door. “Wait, what did I do? Astarion?”
He was an unstoppable force, storming into his own room.
“I don’t understand what I did,” you pleaded with him, desperate to fix it. You raked through your conversation, trying to dissect every word spoken, every facial expression. You found nothing. Shouldn’t he be happy you wanted to help them? It didn’t make sense to you.
He sat on his bed, one he’d never slept in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. When he spoke, there was a faux casualty to it, like he was trying to pretend none of it mattered to him. “I’m just making room for the next stray you let into your bed.”
You sat next to him, careful to keep your distance as you moved your head down to try and catch his eye. “You know I’m not replacing you, right?”
He huffed in response, turning away from you again.
You made sure to keep your tone gentle and soft. “You know I wouldn’t let just any vampire spawn sleep next to me, right? It’s because I care about you, it’s not just because you’re there. No one is replacing you and I promise there is enough of me to help people while also still being there for you. I will save as many of them as I can until I can rid this world of Cazador but you’re not just Cazador’s victim, you’re my friend.”
He turned to you suddenly. “Stop saying that. Stop saying you’re going to hunt down Cazador. If he catches wind of any of this you’re dead. At least, if you’re lucky you’ll be dead. And then where will I be?”
“Hey, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing, we all know what we’re doing. He’s not going to get me.”
“That’s why you made that deal, is it? Did all the other hunters he slaughtered know what they were doing too? You aren’t a threat to him, you are a nuisance. You need to stop,” he snarled.
You couldn’t stop. You both knew that, could see it as clear as day.
Instead, you just said a quiet, “Come on, come to bed,” and walked out of the room.
He trailed behind you, the unendable argument weighing heavy on the both of you, no more words spoken as he slipped under the sheets. You gave his hand a squeeze, trying your best to reassure him despite knowing it would never work. Not as long as he was still out there.
And then, as he leaned into your space, head brushing against your arm, something he’d been getting slowly more comfortable doing, something occurred to you that should have many days ago, back when he’d first arrived here. It was strange that he was here, now. Not just because of his uncomfortability with any sort of nonsexual closeness, but because of when it was.
Not only did elves not sleep the same way nor as long as humans did, but vampires slept during the day typically, to enjoy the night as best they could.
“I’m going to start sleeping during the day,” you said decisively. “That way we can keep doing this,” you said as you gestured around vaguely, “and you can go out, can do things with your waking hours. I’m sorry it didn’t occur to me sooner.”
His eyes widened. “You’d really let me leave?”
His surprise felt like a shard of ice through your chest. “Of course I would. You can do whatever you want. I’ll even do my best to help if you’ll ask me for it.” Another horrible thought struck you. “Wait, you didn’t think you could leave and you’ve been with me most nights. What have you been eating?”
“Whatever I could find. I make for wonderful pest control.”
Your heart sank. You should’ve considered this sooner, never put him through any of this.
“Here, drink from me,” you said, sticking out your hand. “I can get some bigger animals for you, keep them here so you don’t have to hunt for them if you’d prefer, but for now I will have to do.”
He hesitated, although his gaze was less suspicious than the last time you’d done this. Instead, he looked nervous. “You’ve… you’ve already done so much for me. I shouldn’t.”
“Astarion, you’re starving,” you said quietly, trying to reason with him.
“I’d rather not push it. Eventually, even your charity will run out.”
You shook your head. “It will not. It’s fine if you don’t believe me, I know it’ll take time, but I will keep being here for you until it sinks in. Promise.”
He laughed quietly, seeming more for himself than for you, something that had been happening more and more lately. “You underestimate my distrust, I think I could outlast you.”
You smiled back. “Challenge accepted. But until then, you need to eat.”
You held out your wrist for him, the marks from the last time just beginning to fade. He took it, gingerly, bringing it slowly to his mouth and watching your face for any apprehension.
You showed none, instead giving him a soft smile. “Go on. I don’t bite.”
That got a real laugh out of him. “That’s not funny.”
He pressed a soft kiss into your skin before sinking his fangs in, that sharp pain coming with a flutter of warmth inside your chest.
He was slower this time, more intentional as he drank. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he wasn’t as hungry or if it was because it felt less like his meal might be ripped away from him unceremoniously.
He didn’t get as lost in it this time, eyes flicking up to meet yours, checking in on you.
You didn’t even get the chance to try and tell him you were feeling woozy before he drew back, pulling a handkerchief you hadn’t even noticed off the side table to wrap around your wrist.
“Wouldn’t want to get our sheets all bloody,” he said as he knotted it tight around your wound.
Your hands moved slowly as soon as he released them, reaching up towards his face and giving him plenty of time to back away.
For a moment, when he first saw you reaching for him, he pulled back and you were ready to retreat and shower him in endless apologies when, as suddenly as he’d moved away, he leaned into your touch.
Gentle hands cradled his face, ones he’d flinched away from but a moment before. He leaned into them openly now, unabashedly, making a home between your palms.
He was warmer like this, with your blood rushing through him.
You pulled him closer as his head tucked right under yours, your fingers carding gently through his hair.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, barely loud enough to reach his ears, and you had no idea if he believed you.
You doubted it, doubted that you’d been able to break through all those years of his living hell so quickly. His walls had been carefully constructed for a reason, and you understood why he was so hesitant to break them down. You couldn’t blame him, would never blame him.
It didn’t really matter. You’d keep trying either way.
#astarion#astarion x reader#vampire x reader#baldurs gate astarion#bg3 astarion#baldurs gate 3#bg3#astarion ancunin#astarion needs a hug
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Are you still doing requests? Can I request Alastor x Wife reader who were married together alive an reunited in hell and while Alastor hates modern tech the reader grew on it and even started a life hack channel on voxtube of tricks from the 1920s and it becomes really popular and she gets sponsors and fan mail meanwhile Alastor needs Angel's help just to video chat her and one day she gets a 5 million subscriber mileage congratulations gift box (that all creators get bit hes still mad) from Vox himself
Old man and an Iphone
Requests are still open indeed.
I can definitely do my best! I’ve changed the dates around a little to better fit the technology advancements in the universe. This is set in the early 2000s
This is somewhat small, but i hope you like it.
----------------------
Years passed like turning pages since your husband had departed from you, in the cruelest ways that anyone could imagine. A fate that wasn’t even inevitable. That singular fragile piece of metal, shot from an unknown hunter, took him away from you.
You knew who he was, you knew what he was. Knowing that you’d end up in the same temple of horror one day that he has. His sins being your sins. That brought you some peace. Knowing you’d be reunited one day. Even if it was in the worst place imaginable. Hell. That day came sooner than you’d like to admit. Leaving behind your clueless grandchildren and your own hellish spawn.
The ground below you hit rather hard, not even knowing you were falling down the rabbit hole till the bottom came right to your face. You let off a grunt in response. Your body feeling light, all of a sudden. As if the age and wrinkles had just vanished, and you were young again. Legs feeling like they could run miles, and skin, well. Your new hellish form wasn’t much of an improvement from leather skin.
Knowing for years you’d end up here, it wasn’t too difficult to take in. Accepting your sins and your fate as a part of your journey. It wasn’t so bad. There was society, and structure down here. Immortality being the only true torture.
The other torture, you had no idea where your dearest Alastor had ended up. It had been almost 70 years since you’d seen him, god knows what he looks like now. Your reunion was sudden, after all, he was a well known overlord. Yet, it was still something out of a textbook romance novel.
Over the next decade or two, you two spent every second together. Refusing to be apart again. You sharing stories about your children, grandchildren. Melting Alastor's heart like he never thought you could. There was so much catching up to do. After time, you became infatuated with the media, creating your own channel. it was called "Hellish crafts", which started with a bunch of silly tips and tricks when it comes to house work. Alastor didn't understand, but it came with a hefty income.
After becoming tenants at the misguided daughters of hells hotel, you soon began helping with advertisements. Which grew the channel even more. From random life hacks, to advertisements, to smaller channels asking you for your help to grow theirs.
"Must you film me, dear?" his hand covers his face as the camera fizzes out of focus.
"Yes! Its for Charlie. Lighten up old man" You teased him, filming the hotel lobby. He smiled at your expression, resting a hand on the small of your back as you did your craft.
"Y/n! Y/n! Another letter for you!" Niffty ran over
Alastors hand dropped, snatching the letter from the little goblin.. Eyebrows furrowed. "This is the third letter in the passed three days, sweetheart"
"What can i say, my channel is a hit" One eye was closed as the other was pressed to the run down camera that Alastor insisted you used. Still walking slowly around the hotel, trying to get a good shot. Alastor stood in his place, reading the letter. "Another delusional fan" He mumbled.
"Don't worry! i wont let the fame go to my head" You swung around with the camera, getting him in frame. The static of his aura interfered with the lens and gave your brow a small electric shock. Jolting you backwards.
"I've warned you about that" He chuckled, hand returning to your waist and pulling you closer. His other hand with the letter, raising, and a fit of flames emitted. Turning the letter into ash on the floor, which nifty didn't wait to clean up.
Life was like this for a while, constant letters. Some weird, some genuine. But you never got to read most of them, as Alastor made it his duty to send them to another realm before you could. was he jealous? maybe, he'd never care to admit it though. That was until a rather glamorous piece of paper fell through the letter box on this particular day. Stamped with Vox's logo. You got to this letter first.
"What the fuck?" Your almost angry tone alerted Alastor, whose body materialized next to yours in seconds. "What's the matter, my dear?" his eyes briefly scanned over the letter before snatching it from you.
"What is a 5 million subscriber?"
"Its the amount of people who support my channel, i honestly didn't even know it was that big." you stared up at him, waiting for some sort of outburst on his face.
"That's... " he thought for a second "Wonderful dear! Absolutely wonderful!" his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, spinning you around. When you first started the channel, with his knowledge, it was more of a way to pass the time. So, for it to be as big as it is now was quite the accomplishment. What kind of husband would he be not to support his perfect wife, he thought. Whether she was practically paying vox or not. His quarrels weren't hers.
"I believe you have some type of reward, y/n" He spoke again, putting you down and giving the letter back. His sharp nail pointed at a fine print at the bottom. 'Visit the Vee headquarters to redeem your reward'.
You both looked at each other, brows raised and a concerned look in your eyes. "I'm sure it's not important. I don't need a reward"
He looked as if he was in deep thought. Contemplating everything for a second. "You should go"
"But vox is your-"
"Hush, little woman" His finger covered your lips "This is important to you darling. I trust you"
The smile on your face made his bigger, making you deserving of the little peck he placed on your lips before adjusting his posture. "On the condition that my shadow follows your every move"
"Done"
A few hours had passed since your departure, Charlie offering razzle and dazzle to escort you to the large mansion on the other side of the pentagram. It was quite the journey, considering the traffic. And it wasn't long before Alastor began to miss you, wondering if you were okay.
"Ahem" static gave Angel a brief episode of tinnitus before he swung his body on the lobby sofa, met with the lanky deer.
"Waddya want, pimp?" his attention didn't last long, his phone having far more interesting contents than the demon lurking behind him.
"I need a favor" his smile made the question seem a lot more sadistic than intended. His body swiftly moved around the sofa, standing in front of the spider now.
"If you want my soul, I got bad news for ya."
"Your soul?" He was almost confused for a second "No, i need help with this" he lifted his hand, angels phone disappearing and reappearing in the deer's grip.
"Wh- hey! Give that back" Angel leapt to his feet, reaching up and snatching it back. "Why do you want help with a phone? Aren't you like, from the dark ages?"
It took Alastor a moment to be able to admit to it. "I'd like... to call my wife"
"Awww, is someone clingy" angels teasing didn't last long before radio dials appeared in the demons eyes, radio interference filling the air as quickly as it had disappeared earlier. "Okay, okay" Angels hands flew up in surrender, Alastor returning to normal instantly. "Splended!"
It took a moment for Angel to flick through the thousands of contacts he had, before he finally reached you. Pressing the call button and handing the phone to Al. Who held it like an old grampa looking at a meme. "What do i do now?" he squinted his eyes at the device in his hand. "Just hold it" Angels voice became frustrated as he readjusted the phone in Als hand.
You had picked up the call a minute ago now, on your way back to the hotel. Being greeted to the two boys bickering. "Helloooo?" you sung out, attempting to get their attention.
"Oh. Hello my dear!" Alastor noticed to and bared his teeth in an awkward smile. "I just wanted to see how my love was doing, is all"
"How sweet. I will be back soon." You had many questions to ask when you were back with the comfort of your person.
"Do hurry"
#fanfiction#x reader#request#reqs open#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin angel dust#hazbin alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction
425 notes
·
View notes
Text
Little Pet
Summary: Something nefarious this way comes. Will you run before it's too late?
Pairings: Vampire!Nat x Hunter!Fem!Reader x Heretic!Wanda
Genre: Dark and slightly smutty but no sexy times.
Warnings: Sexual suggestions, blood, fangs, lingerie, dark magic. Minors dni, this is not for you.
A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while but I gave it a bit of a touch-up. Hope you enjoy!
It was only dusk and you were already regretting taking the job.
You had been hired by the local innkeeper to investigate the mystery around the abandoned manor on the backside of the forest’s mountain. Many adventurers had come in search of the manor, yet none had returned.
The fact that he was paying you three thousand coin per adventurer that you found was… possibly also the deciding factor.
As you stepped onto the surprisingly well-kept lawn of the place, your hunter instincts went off. Something nefarious was here, lurking in the shadows, watching and waiting. You pulled out your sword as you entered through the giant double oak doors.
Immediately, your blade began to burn hotter than a thousand suns, forcing you to drop it. Thankfully, you had your fireproof gloves on from your latest encounter with a feral dragon, and weren’t burnt.
“So sorry, dear.” A voice echoed in the grand pitch-black entryway, high ceiling above decorated with paintings akin to the skills of the Sistine Chapel.
Not even God could save you now.
“Come closer, dear. Let me see you in the light.”
You noticed a speck of moonlight from a small window to the high right, almost casting a spotlight on the tiles in front of you. You cautiously stepped forward into it, unsure why, yet the voice’s chuckle was… unnerving.
“Why, look at you. A female hunter? Shall we call you Huntress?”
Your gaze steeled - there were more of them - before you felt a sharpness on your neck, a blur passing behind you.
“Oh my. How… sweet.”
You put your hand on your neck, your glove in the light showing a thin line of your blood.
“Vampires.” You muttered beneath your breath.
“Oh, not just vampires.” A new voice said, a clear glee entwined in her thick accent. “I do wish you would figure it out already.”
Suddenly, your body was lifted by an invisible force. You couldn’t move, save your eyes, and you were whisked through the house before you came to a throne room. You were practically thrown to the ground in front of it, a pair of sleek boots in your gaze.
“It’s so wonderful to see another human try their luck here, isn’t it love?” The person, woman, in front of you chuckled darkly.
“Let her lift her head, my dear. I want to see the life in this one’s eyes before I take it away.”
The invisible force acting on your body released your head and you immediately lifted it, coming up to see two women. The one on the throne held a classic lop-sided smirk, her ginger-red hair flowing down her shoulders in simple waves. The other, standing beside the throne, was very clearly something else, with her brown locks tied back in neat braids done by a professional.
“A… here… tic…” You strained the devious hybrid species’ name through your lips.
“There we go. She figured it out!” She snarkily laughed, her eyes glowing as crimson as the bloodstains on her sleeves.
“You are clearly a very skilled huntress. What is your name, sugarcube?” The seated vampire asked, her eyes set on yours.
“Y/N.” Your name was pulled from your lungs by the heretic.
“My my… No wonder Wanda liked the feeling from your sword… you are known for such giant feats of destruction in our world, Y/N the Huntress.”
You guessed that Wanda was the heretic, given the grin that came onto her face. “Now now, love, I think you should introduce yourself. Give this huntress a good fright, yes?”
You looked back at the throned woman, noticing a familiarity to a few wanted posters on the borders of the Darklands. “No…”
“Yes…” She grinned, nodding her head as her sharp nails came to grip your cheek. “I am Natasha Romanova, Countess of the Mstiteli Clan. And you, dear huntress… are now mine.”
She pulled you up by your neck and made a neat slit across your skin, sinking her fangs into your vein whilst Wanda ripped your armour from your body with her magic. Wanda grabbed your wrist and pulled up your sleeve, making a neat slit perpendicular to your arm and delved into it.
Tingling sensations spread from both areas, sending shivers down your spine. It was fast, and ruthless, as they didn’t stop even to let you breathe. You were trapped in the cycle of stuttered breaths, euphoria, and the effects of blood loss.
When you rose, your body felt exactly how it was - weak, drained of energy, of blood. You felt your ankle had been chained, the cold metal stinging on your skin though it contrasted vastly with the softness of the bed beneath you.
“Oh, now that’s a hangover headache for the ages.” You winced, lifting your hand to your head to simultaneously relieve the ache and brush a few strands out of your face.
“Is that what humans feel like when they’re blood is consumed? Intoxicated?”
You jerked your head up - bad idea - to see Countess Natasha lying next to you in nothing but a black nightrobe and dark red lingerie. She gingerly brushed her fingers over your neck, which had small gauze patches on either side.
“You.” You growled before instinctively reaching for your sword, only to feel another hand there.
“You were right to melt her armour and sword, my love - she is such a feisty one.” Wanda giggled, her own nightrobe and lingerie adorned on her body.
Wanda flicked some magic to your hands and they obeyed, pulling up until the wisps of red tied your wrists to the bed frame. “Though you can think of hurting us, now you can’t.” She grinned deviously.
“Now, sugarcube… what to do with you…” Natasha teased before she carefully began to peel off your gauze patches.
“Hey! That hurts!” You huffed before Wanda ripped the one near her fangs off with a sharp tug.
“OW!”
They both chuckled and cooed at you like you were some soft malleable thing.
“Calm down, detka. You’re such an impatient little thing.” Natasha rolled her eyes.
“I’m not your ‘baby’.” You huffed, rolling your eyes before she quickly gripped your jaw.
“Do that again and I’ll take away the pleasure from being fed on.” She whispered darkly into your ear, pressing her thumb and finger into your neck to pinch your airways.
You paused, relinquishing, and she pulled away. “Good. Now, for ground rules: This coven is a respected coven. You are the only human we’ve ever taken in that won’t be turned, no matter how sexy you’d be as a vampire.”
“You see, baby girl… We own you now.” Wanda summarised, putting a small bit of ointment on your healing bite wounds.
“Nobody owns me.” You retorted.
“That ends today. Well, I should say tonight.” Natasha chuckled, tracing the outline of your face.
“Yes, it does. So, we will explain the hierarchy to you: Natasha is Countess, so she will often be busy with coven affairs and our coven’s safety. Then, it’s me, considering I am her wife-”
“Wife?!” You exclaimed before Natasha’s finger pushed down on your sternum, her supernatural strength keeping you down in the bed.
“Yes, my adoring, lovely, brilliant chef of a Sokovian wife. Now listen and be respectful.” The countess warned you.
“As I was saying, I am second in the hierarchy. Then it is James, Steve, Sam and Scott - they are our ‘muscle’, even though some of them look like tanks and others not so much. After them is virtually everyone who is not an unturned child. Those we have accepted and who will be turned upon legal age.”
You listened carefully before you noticed an item in Wanda’s hand - a necklace.
“This is something you will wear at all times unless in the shower. It is imbued with Natasha and mine’s scents and blood, should you ever need to be healed.” She said, clasping it over your neck and not afraid to let her hands wander a bit down.
You turned your head away from hers, feeling some sort of spell over your body like the blood within the red stone was charged.
“You feel it, don’t you?” Natasha smirked from above you, her hair tickling your neck as it hung down. “The power of us, the Mstiteli Clan leaders, though only a single drop of blood each. The power of vampires. You could have never defeated us, Y/N. Not even with your enchanted sword.”
“I did enjoy breaking those enchantments.” Wanda added.
You closed your eyes, trying to take everything in since you were still a bit dazed. “Nobody told me that you were Mstiteli. If I had known that-”
“You wouldn’t have come. We know. But we loved chatting to that innkeeper a few nights ago. He was just divine.” Natasha licked her lips and you understood the double entendre.
“A few little drops of amber ash doesn’t hurt a fella. And without you to return and claim your prizes, we’ll keep getting willing meals right at our doorstep.” Wanda smirked.
“Such delicious, tasty meals… Speaking of, I want to have some more…”
You looked at the two warily. They stopped. What?
Natasha snickered darkly, cupping your cheek. “Oh, you really are as sweet as they come. No, what we did was a dominance show. Now, we go gently.”
Gently wasn’t the right word for her to use as she practically smashed her lips against yours, delving her tongue in to test if even your saliva was as sweet as your blood. Your hands, still chained above your head, were no match for Wanda’s power as she sank to your stomach, kissing and sucking at the exposed skin.
“So divine…” She murmured, a flick of her magic warping your reality.
“Hey! Bring my clothes back!” You yelled, mostly from embarrassment as you now wore the same nightrobe adorned on them but in crimson red… and without lingerie.
“Patience, dear. We want our filling first. We will always come before you.” Natasha said, the words burning in your mind as she locked eyes with you.
Then, she leaned in and reopened the wound with such precision of her fang she could be a surgeon. She sucked at your neck whilst keeping a firm hold of your body, her arm snaking underneath the nightrobe and around your back.
“Come up here, Wanda. You were the one who wanted us to make our marks clear and present.” She chided her wife, who you hadn’t even noticed feeding on your wrist.
“But she’s so beautiful… I want to sink my fangs into every inch of her, litter her body with my bite.” Wanda said and you could tell she was the far more possessive one.
“Neck first.” Natasha said firmly.
You felt like a blood bag. Nothing more than for something they can feed on and toy with, squish around in their hands to bring out every bit of life source.
Then, you felt that tingle again. That rush of endorphins coursing through your veins, making you whimper beneath their touch.
“Hush. Fuck, you’re delicious.” Wanda moaned against your neck, digging her fangs deeper.
You quietened down like a good little pet and let them have their fill once more, your jostles of movement stopping quickly as fatigue set in. They were both grinning as they pulled away from your neck, fangs and lips smeared with your blood.
“Wanda, go get some hot towels.” Natasha muttered, the heretic speeding away to bring a tower of hot towels.
She leaned into your ear, kissing it gently. “Now hush, little pet. Time for you to rest some more…”
#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x fem!reader#natasha romanoff imagine#natasha romanoff smut#natasha romanoff x you#natasha romanoff fluff#natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff#black widow x you#black widow x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff fic#wanda maximoff fluff#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff x female reader#wanda maximoff x fem!reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff
483 notes
·
View notes
Text
On the Clock
Summary: Ari stops by for a snack while he's out chasing a lead.
Warnings: Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Oral Sex (fem rec), Finger Fucking, Ass Slapping, Ass Grabbing, Handcuffs (mentioned), Overstimulation (implied), Cursing, Pet Names, Minors DNI
A/N: Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are sincerely appreciated.
___
“Oh God, I–Beast!”
Your fist slams down on the desk as your legs threaten to give out from under you. It was all too much. Between each sinful flick of his tongue, and the delicate precision of his thick fingers roughly pumping in and out of your dripping pussy…
You weren’t sure if you were actually going to survive.
“Gimme one more, Bird. Just one.” Ari’s free hand comes down hard on your ass, the sharp crack echoing through your tiny stockroom and spilling out into the shop. “You can do it.”
A muffled sob escapes as you cling to the cool, flat surface for dear life while that same hand delivers another blow – this time giving your cheek a hard squeeze after it lands. His punishing grip all but ensuring that you’ll be heading home with fresh bruises, although he has yet to hear you complain.
Especially after he just got done telling you that all your sweet curves belonged to him anyway. A fact that you were no longer as interested in disputing as you once used to be. Maybe it was because you enjoyed wearing his marks almost as much as he enjoyed giving them to you.
The filthy wet squelch of his fingers as they ruthlessly fuck your cunt, along with with the sounds of your desperate cries, has you feeling grateful that there’s no one around to witness just how pitiful you must look.
Of course you have Ari to thank for that, whose quick thinking brought you to this very moment.
Which involves him kneeling between your parted thighs, eating your pussy from the back. Devouring you as if his life depends on it. And for all you knew, it did.
Because when Ari had sent you a message at 11:57am asking if you were free for a quick snack, you’d had no idea that he’d been referring to this. But then again, you also hadn’t had time to respond, what with you trying to box up orders for several waiting customers.
Which meant that you’d been just as surprised as anyone when he strolled through the doors of Baubles & Quills less than ten minutes later, with his badge displayed on his hip and a scowl etched across his ruggedly handsome face.
Confused by his sudden presence, you’d offered him a brief smile before suggesting that he might be more comfortable waiting for you in the back. Of course your bounty hunter had declined, muttering something about “being on the clock”. And then he’d stood off in the corner glowering at the small group of patrons that were steadily occupying your time.
Precious time that was apparently reserved for him.
Shaking your head, you’d simply returned your attention to running your business. If Ari had questions that needed answering before you were slated to see him tonight, then he was going to have to wait his turn. Afterall, you had bills to pay for both this place as well as your own home. And providing quality customer service was one way to ensure that you would be able to do all of that on time and in full.
However, that’s not to say that you weren’t affected by his presence. It was almost impossible to ignore the weight of his heavy gaze. Especially since your body felt the need to respond accordingly against your own best interests.
From your quickening pulse and pebbled nipples, to your slightly shaking hands and damp panties, your bounty hunter was not the type to be so easily relegated to the background. Nor was he the kind of man who would allow himself to be forgotten either.
Which was why you then witnessed Ari escort your last patron, the lovely Ms. Greta Thurman who was also pushing 80, out to her car with all the patience of a saint. Only for him to return seconds later, this time locking the door behind him and flipping your sign around to signal that the shop was closed – without your fucking permission.
You’d opened your mouth, fully prepared to protest such gross mistreatment. Only to swiftly think better of it the moment you’d gotten a good look at his face. And then he’d motioned for you to join him back in the stockroom, which had been roughly twenty minutes ago. And now…
Now, you were growing increasingly convinced you were going to die. And yet, the Beast at your back had the nerve to keep demanding that you give him one more. Always just one more.
“Poor little Bird.” Ari hums, sounding slightly out of breath. But he doesn’t let that stop him, especially when he feels you clench around his fingers when they strum over that special spot inside you. “You might be done, but your pussy wants more.” His pointed tongue goes back to rhythmically lashing at your sensitive clit.
Again and again. It was enough to drive a woman crazy.
“It’s so good, Beast! S’good!” You mewl, your short, blunt nails scraping against the desk. “S’goo–fuckfuckfuck!” Your ability to form coherent sentences has long since abandoned you, leaving you a sweaty, blubbering mess as your body works overtime to process the intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins.
“My greedy girl.” His harsh growl has your knees about ready to buckle. “Greediest pussy I’ve ever had.” Sensing you’re about to collapse, he removes his fingers from your wet heat, making you whine. And then he goes back to squeezing and kneading your ass, loving the way you rise up on your toes as he holds you open for his assault.
“Ari!” You continue to whine, wishing you still had his fingers buried deep in your cunt, even as your impending orgasm looms. He growls again in response, the heady vibrations pulsing through your entire overly stimulated body.
You try to run – attempting to climb over the desk in search of refuge – only for your bounty hunter to drag you back.
“Try that shit again and I’ll cuff you.” Is the only gruff warning you receive before he goes back to lapping at your honeyed folds. The vulgar sounds he makes as he sucks and slurps at your heated flesh, demonstrating just how committed he is to his task.
And he positively hated being interrupted. Your vision blurs when he reaches around to stroke talented fingers along your swollen nub, taking special care not to send you over the edge until he felt you were ready.
Asshole.
Your hips continue to writhe and buck beneath his assault, but you don’t try to run again. And this time when your orgasm washes over you, it feels so good it hurts. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream as wave after wave of bliss sends your nerve endings buzzing.
It was hands down some of the most exquisite pleasure you had ever experienced.
Eventually Ari relaxes his hold, albeit rather reluctantly, before giving you a minute or two to get your bearings. “Thank you, baby.” He murmurs, the husky timbre of his voice sending another small jolt of white-hot electricity pulsing through you as he goes to stand up. “That should be enough to get me through.”
“Huh?” Comes your weak reply. Frankly, he’s lucky to even get that. Right now you could barely function, let alone string together a damn sentence. But then it registers that he’s leaving.
Even though he hadn’t –
“I really hate to eat and run, but I’m afraid I’m on the clock.” He winks at you, taking a moment to twirl your ruined panties around his index finger. “Just needed a taste of something sweet first.” He then tucks the garment into the back pocket of his jeans.
At this rate, your entire underwear drawer was going to be empty before the month’s end. Which meant that you were going to have to put your foot down and demand he return them. At least a few pairs anyway. The brute wouldn’t be happy until you were walking around this town going commando.
“Oh.” You mumble, feeling a pang of disappointment as you push your damp curls off of your forehead. “Um, okay.” But as quickly as it comes, it’s replaced by a fresh surge of heat in your belly when you finally notice the wetness still darkening his beard. Something he didn’t seem too worried about fixing.
“Aw, don’t look so disappointed, Bird.” His big hands go to frame your face, pulling you close to capture your lips in a heartfelt kiss that has you practically melting. And you can’t help the sliver of female satisfaction that slowly unfurls inside of you when you catch a hint of your warm, earthy scent on his skin.
Because whether you realized it or not, you’d just marked your territory in a way no other woman could possibly compete with. This Beast was all yours for the time being.
“There we go.” Grinning when you finally relax, your gentle giant pecks your lips one last time before stepping away from you. He winces slightly, adjusting his straining erection through his jeans, inwardly cursing the fact he had an appointment across town that he was probably already late for. “I’ll be at your place no later than 8:00pm with takeout from Mi Patron. Text me what you want and then be sure to call when you’re locking up, okay?”
“Okay, Ari.” You breathe, your teeth going to nibble at your bottom lip. “It’s a date.” On impulse, you raise up on your toes and wrap your arms around his neck, dragging him down for one last kiss – which he eagerly accepts without an ounce of fight.
“Sorry.” Is all you say when you finally allow yourselves to come up for air. In truth, you weren’t feeling even remotely apologetic. But you did have an image to maintain so… “Must’ve lost my balance.”
“Right.” Ari whistles low, shaking his head as he pins you with a knowing look. “I’ll see you later. Behave while I’m gone, sweet girl.” With that, he turns on his heel and heads in the direction of your front door. Leaving you alone to make peace with the fact that you were falling for this man.
“I’m doomed.” You mutter, staring down at your bare toes while you debate your next move. On one hand, you supposed you could always skip town. But given his profession, you reasoned he’d be able to track you down with relative ease.
Well, there went that option. With a sigh you bend down to pick up your capris so you can go about making yourself look presentable again, sans panties. The way you saw it, the only choice you had left was to go down swinging. Which made sense. And if that was the case, then…
“I’m taking you down with me, Levinson.”
END
___
Unofficial Tag List
@daykrisr99
@identity2212
#cevansbrat007 Sweet Renegade Series#chris evans imagines#ari levinson imagines#chris evans fanfiction#ari levinson fanfiction#chris evans x you#ari levinson x you#chris evans x black!reader#ari levinson x black!reader#chris evans x woc!reader#ari levinson x woc!reader#chris evans x black reader#ari levinson x black reader#chris evans smut#ari levinson smut#chris evans x reader#chris evans x female!reader#chris evans x girlfriend!reader#ari levinson x reader#ari levinson x female!reader#ari levinson x girlfriend!reader#chris evans x poc!reader#ari levinson x yn#chris evans x yn#ari levinson x y/n#chris evans x y/n#ari levinson girlfriend!reader#chris evans x fem!reader#ari levinson x fem!reader#ari levinson x poc!reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Yandere! Silva X Daughter Reader
⚠️warning⚠️ obsessive thoughts and mentions of death
Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Character(s): Silva Zoldyck, Zeno Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck, Milluki Zoldyck
A/N: I DO NOT INTEND FOR THIS CHAPTER TO HAVE ANY RELATIONS TO INCEST!! I'm aware that some things written in this chapter might be mistaken as incest, but I promise I don't intend to make it seem that way.
Of course you can interpret my writing however you want to, I have no issues with that. Just please know I don't write stuff related to incest♡︎♡︎
*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ 1138 words *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.
*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*. *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*. *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*
"Didn't I tell you to stop killing these poor butlers, father? How do you expect us to be taken care of if you take your rage out on our servents?" The young Assassin grumbled while putting her hands on her hips. Suddenly, the whole estate went silent. However, the rest of the lower butlers blinked and gulped in hope.
At the edge of the room, the young assassin can be seen. Her long H/C hair that shined under the moonlight can put any woman to shame. Her E/C eyes that they inherited from her father were sharp yet adorable. It could not be denied that with her looks and god-given talent for assassination that the girl belonged to the Zoldyck family.
With their sudden appearance, Silva lowered his guard and relaxed. It could be seen by his face that he adored the presence of his dearest daughter. With a soft tone, he asked, "Y/N, dear, what are you doing here? I thought you were out of the house."
The Lower butlers secretly beg the assassin to spare them from their death. By doing this, not only do they have a higher chance to survive, but they could also continue to contribute in caring for the Head's most adored daughter, Y/N Zoldyck.
One with no common sense would simply assume that Y/N was the glass child of the Zoldyck family, but behind closed doors they couldn't be any more wrong. Y/N was the glue that kept the family together. She was known to be cruel, sadistic, and outstanding in the art of assassination. However, there were people such as her siblings that could see the other side of her. Most of the time, Y/N was a kind and calm individual outside of work. And today just so happened to be a day where she felt generous.
Y/N thought for a bit before shaking her head, "I thought I told you our agreement about killing butlers in the mansion. Their screams can be heard from my room. It would be better if you killed them quickly or just let them free," she sighed as she turned her eyes to the poor butlers that had been severely tortured by electric shock.
Silva on the other hand glared sharply. Although it was subtle, his eyes went smaller, and clenched his hand.
He hated it.
He hated it when HIS daughter ignored him for Illumi.
He despised it when HIS daughter left him alone to play with Kalluto.
He loathed it when HIS daughter was playing video games with Milluki.
He felt sick to his stomach whenever he witnessed HIS daughter braiding Alluka's hair.
He detested it when HIS daughter is 'playing' outside with Killua and his pathetic excuses of friends.
And oh dear god did he want to smash a boulder across his head whenever he saw HIS daughter laughing with her mother and grandfather.
Silva loved his only daughter to death. Every inch of his daughter belonged to him and ONLY him alone. He hated sharing with others, family only being a small exception. If he could, he would lock her in his room and make her look at him and ONLY him alone.
Knowing that the entire family would riot against him if he were to bring harm to the assassin, he buried that plan deep within his heart and continued to be a 'good dad' for her. He forgot the agreement and decided to play it funny so that his daughter could let this case pass.
"I apologize, dear," Silva grumbled with a fake frown. "Unfortunately, these foolish butlers failed their mission and their penalty is nothing but death. I thought it would be great to punish them first but I overlooked an important part,"
Y/N kept her mouth shut and looked at her father. Somehow, Her emotions had stirred up from her father's response. She knew that her father loved her the most out of her brothers. He would remember every word she had said and did not dare to break any promises. Sadly, although she had been feeling generous, today has been a tiring day for her and all she wanted is a good night's rest.
"Just let them free for my sake. I couldn't hear them screaming any longer! Do you know how much their screams had disturbed me from my sleep?! This is a simple agreement and somehow you can't even remember my words. I'm so disappointed in you," Y/N spat in tiredness. As soon as she said that, she quickly turned her back and jumped to her room which is located on the outer side of the fortress.
Silva hid his rage and waved to her daughter's back. "I hope you'll have a nice dream, my sweet Y/N"
Soon after Y/N left the room, the temperature dropped. The butlers shivered as the waited for another wave of electricity to shoot through their bodies, but nothing came. They glanced up at their boss, only to see him with an expressionless face.
Without another word, he allowed the ball of electricity growing on his hand to explode, killing the butlers in an instant. With his eyes full of tenderness, he took a deep breath of air.
"I'll make it up to you, my daughter..."
⁂✧⁂
Zeno sighed tirelessly as he observed his sons actions. "When will he stop with this obsessive behaviour? Those butlers did nothing except make sure Y/N was taken care of, and yet he still killed them? In all my years I've never seen Silva express such madness before."
Illumi sighed in helplessness to his grandfathers words, "Even I'm starting to get a bit bored now, As her beloved eldest brother I must make sure that she is on the path to success. Father doesn't need to get involved when she has me by her side at all times."
"You're right," Milluki replied in annoyance, "Though Y/N is next in line to head the family, seems like dad is a little too eager for her to stay by his side, am I right?" He grumbled as he shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.
The 3 of them shared looks of confusion as Silva finally got up to exit his room.
All they could do is wait.
#hunter x hunter x reader#hxh x reader#hxh x y/n#hunter x hunter x y/n#yandere#yandere x darling#hunter x hunter#hxh fanfic#tw obsessive behavior#yandere x reader#silva zoldyck#zoldyck family#hxh zoldyck#daughter reader#silva zoldyck x reader#hxh silva#illumi zoldyck#zeno zoldyck#milluki zoldyck#kikyo zoldyck#killua zoldyck#alluka zoldyck#kalluto zoldyck
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
imagine dilf!jake settling in the metkayina clan & the reader is always flirting with him, but he’s reluctant to make a move because she’s tonowari’s eldest daughter ??&/!/
but one day, he has to visit her marui pod for whatever reason, and the readers wearing something super skimpy & jake can’t hold himself back anymore 🤭
I LOVE THIS BYEE
jake was always careful around you.
the sully’s had only recently sought out uturu within the metkayina, and jake was eternally grateful to tonowari & ronal for. he refused to fuck up this god-given opportunity because their eldest daughter was a pretty, little flirt.
jake always had to visit your family’s marui, in order to discuss private matters with your father. but of course, there was always the risk of you being present. and to jake’s ‘luck’, you were the only person in the pod. the older man let out an silent grunt of frustration at the realisation, and he was quick to try escape without you noticing him. rookie mistake.
“leaving so soon?” you’d say with a playful smirk, walking over to the entryway and leaning against the woven wall. the older man stopped in his tracks and sighed, turning to face his biggest problem. his amber eyes widened slightly at the sight of your attire…or lack thereof.
how did you manage to make already revealing clothing that more suggestive? that little loincloth left nothing to the imagination, hugging your soft sides and barely covering the curve of your ass. and that top? eywa, give the man strength. the fabric was tight against your chest, emphasising the swell of your perky tits. you were like a walking sex doll, and it was driving jake insane.
“i needed to talk with yr’dad.” jake coughed awkwardly, trying to divert his eyes away from your body. you were so fucking tantalising, and he could feel the blood rushing to his crotch already. “…i’ll come back later.”
you knew exactly what you were doing. the way you feigned innocence was all strategic; it didn’t take a genius to figure that out. “you can wait here till he gets back. he’s observing the hunters, so he may be a while.” you spoke in that sweet voice of yours, taking a step closer to jake and glancing up at him through your lashes. “i’ll keep you company.”
jake looked down at you with a contemplative expression, his gaze soon travelling back down to your chest. your hard nipples were poking through your skin-tight top, practically on display for the na’vi man. his cock was painfully hard, vulgar thoughts filling his mind as he made no effort to hide his lust. your offer was so tempting, and he was well aware how this little visit would end.
“you’ll keep me company, huh?”
“yes, sir.”
were you worth the risk? most definitely.
your smaller frame was held up by the older man, hoisted in the air and stuffed to the brim with jake’s cock. he slammed you down roughly on his thick length, stretching your tight pussy out as you held onto him for dear life. you’d never been silenced so quickly in your life. your flirty remarks were now replaced with pathetic whines and blubbering sounds of desperation.
“this what you wanted, huh?” jake grunted roughly, his brows furrowing as his eyes became half-lidded. “walkin’ around in that slutty outfit…ughh…jus’ beggin’ me to fuck ‘ya.”
his callous hands were squeezing your ass, kneading the fat roughly. each time he lifted you up and rammed himself inside your cunt, the air was ripped from your chest. “y—yes..oh, fuck!” you’d cry out, a creamy ring circling around the base of jake’s thick cock. “m’gonna c..cum..!”
“already? jesus, baby.” jake chuckled as he held you still for a moment, slowly carrying you over to your cot. he breathlessly laid you down, pressing your thighs against you chest as he began to pound into you mercilessly once more. “who knew the little princess was such a fucking whore?” the squelch of your dripping hole and screaming moans filled the open space - anyone walking past the marui would know exactly what was happening inside.
you clawed onto jake’s back, his heavy balls slapping against your ass with each hard thrust. you could feel his tip hitting your sweet spot nonstop, making you whine in response. “want you to cum in me.” you begged jake, looking up at him with desperate eyes. “p—please, daddy.”
“oh, yeah? .. f-fuck .. y’wanna be filled up?” jake crooned through groans, nuzzling his face into your neck as he folded your taut body in half. his hips slammed against your pelvis, the sound evolving into a sloppy, wet slapping. “gonna have to beg a little harder than that, doll.”
— all rights reserved © cyberfreaky (2023) do not repost, translate or copy my work without given permission.
#jake sully#jake sully smut#jake sully x reader#jake sully x reader smut#jake sully x you#jake sully x you smut#jake sully headcanons#jake sully fanfic#jake sully headcanon#jake sully fanfiction#avatar jake sully#jake sully angst#jake sully x female reader smut#jake sully x na'vi reader#jake sully x y/n#avatar#avatar smut#avatar x reader#avatar x reader smut#avatar x you#avatar x you smut#avatar twow#avatar the way of water#atwow#atwow smut#atwow jake#dilf jake sully#avatar x na'vi reader
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
NPC Life is the best
(Genshin Impact x gn reader - sagau)
(second person pov)
Prologue —> part 1 —> part.2
—————————————————-
After being tossed into the world of teyvat, you start to make your way down starsnatch cliff. Unlike what you had previously thought, the winds were quite gentle and gave you a sense of serenity that some what soothed your aching head. It was about sunrise when you had landed here so it shouldn’t take until sunset to get to mondstat.
the dirt path was a great aid to the city and in all honesty the walk down the cliff was quite nice as you got see the lovely sights of windrise and a ancient four winds temple.
there were a few adventures out and about but they paid you no mind. It was better that way. as you slowly approached the small cooking pot set almost right outside the city you decided it be best to test a few things.
Grabbing a small left over sack from the wood stump, you took out a small pocket knife sheathed in leather. Taking the small knife out you looked around to see if anyone was there.
to your relief there was no one besides the pigeons on the bridge.
gently holding the knife you proceeded to make a small cut on the side of your wrist.
Gold..
quickly after your discovery you use the bandages in the small bag to cover it up. Wouldn’t want someone to see that..
gently holding the sack you found you thought it’d be best to keep it. It’s free no? Smiling happily with your newly found possession you started to walk across the large bridge.
a few characters you decided were best to avoid were obviously venti and kaeya. Venti was an archon so it was already a big no even if he didn’t know what you looked like. Kaeya is from khanria so who knows what he could sense. Both of them have visions so both of them could possibly recognize your aura.. even though venti uses a fake one, it’s still likely that as an archon he would recognize your aura regardless..
well that is if they decide to believe in the strange aura of yours. There’s a chance they won’t even bother tracking you down.
gathering your thoughts together you make your way into the city nodding at both of the guards as a sign of respect. To your surprise they didn’t even stop you from going in without a small questioning.. you guess it’s because they barely get any respect *snorts*.
walking into the city, you realize it’s about 9 o’clock and your a bit peckish after the long walk. Why not treat yourself to a delicious fisherman’s toast?
looking around you as you make your way up to Sara, you find that the city is more crowded than what it seems to be in game. People by the fountain, merchants flocking the side of the paths, and even little kids playing with what looked to be a yo-yo. In all honesty it put a smile on your face. Everything was so beautiful.
making your way up to the counter of good hunter you spot a familiar sight, amber and Eula were eating at good hunter too!
‘Oh god it’s my otp AAAAAAA’
‘Calm down y/n..’
‘Calm down’
afraid of staring at the pair for too long, you glance away not noticing the strange look Eula shot at you.
after waiting in line for a little bit you manage to finally order your beloved fisherman’s toast. Using the mora inside your (stolen) bag you pay off the fisherman’s toast and find a spot to enjoy your crispy delight.
“Why hello there” a familiar but suave voice calls out to you.
“I haven’t seen you before, are you perhaps an outlander like our dear honorary knight?”
god.. it was kaeya
“Hm? Oh I’m actually from liyue.” You lie trying to maintain a calm demeanor.
“Oh? I Must say, you don’t dress like someone from liyue, I apologize for my assumption.” He looks down at you with a sly smile and inquisitive look.
“It’s no problem, really” god you never realized how hard it was to act.. you should’ve taken up those acting classes from your aunt.
“If you say so” he smiles again. “Enjoy your stay in mondstat I’d love to show you around some time traveler”
“Oh no, i mustn’t take up your time”
“Oh but I insist. Whats your name by the way lovely traveler?” He says with a confident look on his face.
“Y/n, you must be the suave Calvary captain that all the ladies in mondstat have been chatting about.” You tease him slightly to get the attention off of you
“You flatter me Y/n. Your quite the smooth talker yourself” he chuckles and smirks.
“Well it was nice getting to meet you, I must be on my way now, even though I would’ve loved to stay and chat”
“It’s no problem Kaeya” you smile softly and wave off to him as he walks away.
‘Holy fucking shit’
You felt as though your life flashed through your eyes as you finish up your fisherman’s toast. Hopefully he didn’t see through your facade.. he might’ve noticed your aura but probably dismissed it as something else. well he’s gone now so there’s no need to worry to much about him right now.
the thing you should be worrying about is going broke after all.
what job would suit your NPC like needs..
——————————————————————
carp bread- brain vomit
#sagau x reader#genshin sagau#genshin impact#genshin x reader#kaeya x reader#yandere kaeya#genshin yandere#second post#gender neutral reader#genshin x gender neutral reader
528 notes
·
View notes
Note
I LOVED IT AAAAAA COULD U DO A PART TWO THATS A LITTLE SMUTTY??? (I’m the anon who asked about the brat reader! :3)
Since not only you, but also the wonderful @sybilsmelodyonthewireless asked for it - who am I to deny you? ;>
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
(Un)Holy Tease
Ah, you loved the feeling of claws in your hair. A good night always started with claws in your hair. True, you had been especially annoying today – It had just been too long since Alastor had pulled you into his bed with this dominating, smug smile you craved, but you knew he denied you on purpose, finding wicked glee in your growing desperation. But two could play that game.
What tipped the scale – you weren't sure. If you had to chose, you'd say it was when you refused to eat his freshly cooked dinner, his mom's prized Jambalaya of all things, because you ''didn't feel like it''. You knew that it would drive him mad, and you would've maybe felt bad if it wasn't the quickest - and safest - way into his sheets.
Alastor caged your mostly undressed self under him, his dress shirt open and with a dark smile on his lips.
„I said: Look at me, darling.“
You rose your chin a bit higher, as much as his firm grip in your hair allowed – the slight pain from it sent shivers down your spine. „I'm good, thank you.“
Your smile quickly turned into a gasp as he tugged hard on your scalp, forcing your face to turn to him.
„A little mouthy today, are we?“, he purred, slowly scraping the inside of your thighs with his free hand. You felt the inhuman urge to tilt your hips, to guide his traveling finger to where you wanted them to be, but you refused to give in that easily. „Do you really think you get what you so clearly want with that little attitude of yours?“
You gripped the sheets beneath you, just to stop yourself from grabbing his shoulders and pull him onto you. Patience, you reminded yourself, work him until he's ready.
„Who says I want anything from you?“, you say decidedly casual, blinking up to him, registering with delight his little snarl and the glimmer of frustration in his eyes. He lowered himself, you could feel his hot breath on your collarbone as his hand traveled up, up, up to your heated core, just halting before actually touching the already wet fabric.
„Your body betrays you, pet.“, he chuckled, tilting his head to inhale your scent. You almost slip, letting your hands free from the grip on the bed sheets to touch him just a bit, but he is quicker than you, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head with the help of his shadow companions. „You were most unruly today, but I'll overlook your little tantrums... if you beg for it.“
Your body bent and tensed like a hunters bow, you forced yourself to not moan at his words. The tightrope you walked on got thinner and thinner. Just a bit more.
„Make me.“
A low growl accompanied the tear of your lace panties, before his arm snaked to your back and around your waist, flipping you on all fours. He pressed your shoulders down into the mattress, keeping your ass up in the air. One of his long digits swiped violently through your soaked slit, flicking your clit in the most cruel, delicious way. You bit your tongue, quieting the whine that wanted to escape. Almost there.
“So defiant. What a naughty girl you are.” Another swipe, another flick, slower this time, agonizingly slow. Thank god you could bury your face in the fabric, because this time a moan was unpreventable. But he heard it, as he always did, and it encouraged him, his sharp tip rounding your pearl, once, twice, three times, with just the right intensity. Then he stopped.
The pressure disappeared, and so did his finger.
Even though you were prepared, it still left you cold and empty, making you draw a heavy sigh of frustration.
“I do hate to repeat myself, dear. But alas, once more: If you want me to continue... beg.”
“Please...” you pressed through your teeth, shaking from the loss of contact, the anticipation setting your skin on fire.
“Hm? What was that? Use your pretty, little mouth, darling, and speak up.”
The cocky, saturated tone of his voice made you almost come on the spot. You took a deep, trembling breath, your lungs burned with impatience.
“Please, Alastor, please with sugar on top. Just fuck me already.”
The touches returned, oh so sweetly and forcefully, it made you choke on your own breath. His thumb swirled around your sensitive bud while two of his fingers pumped, in and out, filling the humming room with unholy, squelching sounds. Your face, still pressed into the covers of his bed, flushed as you started to pant softly, keeping your mewls to a minimum. You still had a little fight in you.
His hand raked from your shoulders down your spine, sharp tips drawing prickling lines on your back. He tuttet at you, but you heard the growing lust when he spoke. “Such filthy words. Since you decided to behave like such a spoiled brat today, I shall treat you just as one.”
Fuck yes. You heard the ruffle of fabric, the clatter of a belt buckle. To seal the deal, you put everything what was left of your smug confidence in your next words, knowing you wouldn't be able to speak coherently in the foreseeable future either way.
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
The answer was a single thrust, deep and without mercy. Your breath hitched in your throat, he filled you to the brim, making your eyes water and your mind ecstatic. With no time to adjust, he started to move, quick, assaulting snaps of his hips, pushing deeper and deeper into you. His hands with firm grip on your waist, he pushed you to and away from him, while his shadows, wicked things that they were, pulled your constricted wrists up over your head so far your upper body rose from the bed and hung in mid-air.
“You'll take everything I give you, and you'll thank me for it, darling.” His husky voice was filled with buzzing white noise. You tried to answer, but the new position made him hit all the right spots, the only thing audible were your mindless moans.
A loud clap and the instant burn on your ass made you yelp in pain and pleasure.
“Come on, darling, say it.”
In between the heavy panting, you managed to breathe a strained “t-thank you...”, just before another smack hit your already sore cheek. Combined with his unrelenting thrusts, this was the most delectable torture. “T-thank y-you.”, you sobbed, feeling the familiar tightening, that sweet pressure in your midst rising, ready to pop.
“There's my good girl...” Alastor purred, picking up speed, his claws deep in the flesh of your hips. “Now cum, darling.”
Everything happened at once – stars before your eyes, walls clenching around his still throbbing member, a long, loud, relieved cry that sounded like his name, a kiss on your sweat-covered neck. You felt him thrusting a few times more before warmth coated your insides, and you felt his weight slumping on your back. Together, you fell forward into the messed up sheets as the shadows tenderly let your wrists go, the only sounds your quiet humms of pleasure – like echoes of your moans – and his fizzzing and popping static noises.
He rolled off you onto his back and pulled you up his chest, his fingers raking through your ruffled hair. You felt happy, fulfilled and so deeply in love with this demon, taking a moment to lean into his soft caresses. But the night was still young, and – as you know – a good night always starts with claws in your hair.
“Mhh... is that all you got?”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor x reader#fraugwinskawrites#alastor smut#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel smut
216 notes
·
View notes
Note
need dom ron to overstim reader please🙏love ur work🤍
I'm genuinely so sorry it's taken me this long to answer this request but i took freedom with it because I felt like writing for him! enjoy :)
A harsh spank on your ass had you crying out in the dark, empty dorm. "Who told you that you were allowed to stop?" Ron's hands tightly gripped your hips as you slowly rose off his laps, your thighs shaking as you dropped back down his dick, whining loudly. Ron tried swallowing his groan, a shaky breath escaping instead as he chuckled, shaking his head at you, his bright hair sticking to his forehead. He watched you drag yourself on his cock, desperate for your own release, frustrated tears picking at the corner of your eyes. "Ron please, please" You begged, your head dug into the crook of his neck.
"God you're so desperate. Already've come twice and you still want more" He mocked, securing the hold he had on your hips before he planted his feet on the bed and started harshly bucking his hips up into yours. You moaned loudly, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your pussy clenched at the sudden friction and Ron moaned, his head thrown back against his pillow as he helped you bounce up and down his girthy cock.
One of his hands came up to your tits, groping at them and pinching your nipples, listening to your moans get higher in pitch. You were close. The other hand came down to teasingly play with your abused clit, and you held onto your boyfriend's shoulders for dear life, feeling his eyes on you like a hunter would eye his prey. "Look at me" He growled. "Have to see your face when you come or else I won't let you cum at all." He panted. Your gaze found his and Ron audibly moaned at the look of pleasure you had plastered on your face. His voice was like a trigger and your mouth fell open as you moaned loudly, your cunt clenching around your boyfriend's dick tightly, triggering his orgasm too.
He flipped you over without struggle, fucking you into your orgasm so you could ride it out. Your hands immediately made their way back to his back, and you were sure there would be scratch marks left there in their wake. "No more- Ron- can't" You cried out, pushing at your boyfriends chest while he slowed his thrusts down. He pulled out of you with a groan, immediately started to leave kisses down your body to make up for the manhandling he had done. It was only when the kisses continued down your stomach and to your hips that you gasped, saying "Ron don-" "I'm just gonna clean you up babe, okay?" But the way he threw a forearm over your hips to keep you still told you otherwise.
He started by pressing kisses on either side of your thighs before immediately licking a bold stripe up your pussy, tasting both of your juices combined. You both moaned in unison, and tried to close your legs around Ron's head. He continued licking up your cunt, his tongue dipping into your entrance before he started harshly sucking on your swollen clit. That had your hands flying into his wild hair, tugging at it harshly while you started crying out your boyfriend's name again. "Ron!" His fingers took his mouth's place on your clit and he rubbed aggressively at it, while the softness of his words completely contrasted his movements, "Last one baby I promise. You're doing so good f'me." And as soon as he finished his sentence, his mouth was back on you, running his tongue over your clit. Your hips bucked up into his face, the movement controlled by his arm holding you down and your thighs started shaking all over again, and you orgasmed again, drenching Ron's face.
You panted loudly, grip loosening in Ron's hair and you whimper softly, watching as he licks his lips, then crawls up the bed to press his lips against yours in a passionate kiss, letting himself put most of his weight on you. He peppered a few soft kisses onto your skin then pulled away from you to sit up on the bed beside you. He looks down at you with a loving look on his face, which turns to concern when you don't say anything. "Baby? I wasn't too harsh on you was I?" You finally look up at Ron and grin, shaking your head at him. "No, but you're going to have to carry me around tomorrow because I sure as hell won't be able to walk.
#harry potter#hogwarts#gryffindor#ron weasley smut#ron weasly x reader#ron weasly imagine#ron wealsey#ronald weasley#ron weasley#ron weasley x reader#ron wealsey x y/n#ron weasley x you#hogwarts houses#golden trio era#golden trio aesthetic#golden trio#golden trio fanfiction#rainydayathogwarts
374 notes
·
View notes
Text
Series Masterlist
©celtic-crossbow 2024. I do not allow for my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or placed on any other platform without my consent.
Chapter 20
Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; gunshot wound; injuries; blood; allusions to child abuse; allusions to SA; poorly written smut; oral (fem rec); fingering; p in v; panic attacks
A/N: Dear gods, this one is long and full of a million feels! This will be the last chapter for a long while. It will be on hold in favor of finishing Blood Ties but then, it will be finished before any other endeavors. The song I chose for the later part of this chapter is one I recommend listening to while reading it. The lyrics and soft music helped shape this and I hope you like the end result.
Daryl was dizzy. Beyond relieved to have you latched to him like a koala but mostly just physically dizzy. Still, he couldn’t seem to summon the desire to let go. You were whimpering against his good shoulder, trembling something fierce. “We gotta go. S’not safe here.” It took another moment for your legs to begin their descent, your body sliding against his in a way that forced a grunt out of him while his face flushed. Not the time for that particular part of his anatomy to wake up. Clearing his throat, he loosened his hold and shifted his hips away from you. “Place’ll be full’a the dead soon. Gotta go while ev’ryone’s distracted.”
You nodded, nearly glancing back to where Todd had fallen, just for one more fragment of affirmation that he was gone, truly gone.
“He ain’t gonna hurtcha no more.” Daryl pressed a palm against the small of your back, and you responded, moving with him toward the door. He stuck his head out first, internally mapping a way to safety before he even thought of letting you follow. Offering his hand, you took it without a single ounce of hesitation.
You could hardly believe you were really outside. With Daryl. There was no time to revel in the victory, however. It was instant walker-dodging, trying to make it into the forest and out of sight before the living threats realized you had escaped. There would be hell to pay once they had gathered their bearings. You could only hope that you were all back behind the prison gates before that happened.
Daryl weaved through the forest with a skillful ease that you envied, though you noticed he was beginning to flag after only a few moments. His focus seemed to dwindle, nearly leading you headlong into a cluster of walkers before you tugged him to a stop behind a tree.
Pressed tightly together, chest to chest, you got your first good look at the archer. He was gasping and slick with sweat, perhaps from the run but you were hardly even winded. There was a pallor to his skin that had worry slithering around in your gut like a constrictor, weaving its way into your chest the more you scrutinized his state.
“Y’okay?” He lifted his chin toward you and gestured toward his own face. You hadn’t really thought of how horrible you must look, beaten bloody in a revealing set of lingerie. Hopefully he couldn’t see your blush around the bruising.
It wouldn’t have bothered you before his introduction into your life. Hell, it didn’t bother you. It had been your job, your sole purpose. You were molded to believe that you only existed for men to touch and ogle and use. Your time at the prison with kind people you had thought extinct had shown you otherwise,
“Where are we meeting up with everyone?” You leaned around the tree, the shuffling of leaves and snapping of twigs growing further away along with the symphony of groans and snarls. Three stragglers were still too close for the two of you to safely move without alerting the majority. While Daryl could traipse the landscape like a ghost, you may as well set off fireworks with each step. The hunter remained quiet. You only assumed he saw something you didn’t and tucked yourself back against the tree. He was gnawing on the side of his thumb, seemingly avoiding your quizzical stare. “Daryl?”
“Need to find a place for the night.” He was deflecting.
“Where’s Rick? Carol?” Your eyes narrowed, suspicious. He leaned out much as you had moments before and gave you a nod.
“Let’s go this way.” He took a step to pass you, but you caught him around his middle. The archer heaved a sigh and dropped his head. “They ain’t with me.” You blanched.
“You came alone?” It came out higher than you’d intended, prompting a stern shushing from Daryl. Lowering your voice to an aggressive whisper, you continued. “Why would you do that? You were—oh god, Daryl, you were hurt!”
“M’fine. Let’s get—”
“You shouldn’t be here. Not alone. I’m not worth it. I’m not worth your life. I thought I made that clear.”
“Stop that shit! Ya are worth it!” Daryl clapped back, stepping back into your space. You flinched. He wasn’t trying to intimidate you, so he held up his hands and put some space between the two of you. “You’re worth it, Y/N. Anyone that tells ya diff’rent can come talk to me.” He added softly, shifting his gaze with a nervous tapping of fingers against his hip.
You swallowed hard around the sudden lump in your throat. Without the ability to speak at that moment, he would need to accept the jerky movement of your head as agreement.
“Let’s go. Need to put some distance between us an’ them ‘fore nightfall.”
You were crouched behind the bush, not moving a single muscle. If you could possibly stop breathing, you would have. Daryl was in his element, crossbow leveled, eyes laser focused. You never got the chance to hunt with him. You were certain that, after this, you would never let him go without you again.
There was so much to learn. The way he followed trails, the slightest disturbances on the forest floor you weren’t able to see. He knew what he was following, knew that it had an injury. All from something on the ground that looked like nothing more than a thin layer of leaves and sticks to you.
The click swoosh of the crossbow still startled you but was easily brushed off. Shouldering his crossbow gingerly, Daryl retrieved the rabbit by the ears and returned to you, holding it up slightly as if seeking your approval.
“Ain’t the turkey I was trackin’ but it’ll feed us.”
You beamed at him. “Bird or bunny, I don’t care. I’m just hungry.” You had eaten a little with the Governor but hardly enough to satiate the hunger that caused your stomach to cramp. Daryl hummed with a nod and looked around somewhat aimlessly.
“Need to find someplace to hole up for the night. Gonna hafta go outta the way a lil’. They’ll be searchin’ the routes back to the prison.”
“Do we even know the way back?” You asked without thinking. The look he shot you was almost comical. “Right. Stupid question.”
“C’mon.”
The two of you walked for what felt like hours, your feet scratched and aching, the stockings catching and tearing on almost everything. The irony wasn’t lost on you, the first time he’d rescued you and where you were at that moment. Both times found you in skimpy attire and ending up without shoes. At least now, you weren’t afraid that he was set on raping or beating you.
“Hang on.” You couldn’t take the discomfort for another second. Daryl stopped immediately and looked back with concern that was quick to shift into something else, his cheeks reddening. You were shimmying off the garter belt entirely and discarding it along with the stockings, leaving only the bustier and thong. “Much better.”
“Didn’t, uh—didn’t grab anythin’ extra this time. Sorry.”
“You could always give me your underwear again.” You teased, watching the blush deepen and spread to his neck and ears.
“Stop.” He grumbled. Turning on his heel, he took a step and paused, without looking back. “Do ya—if ya really need—”
“No.” You laughed, not at him but the situation. “Keep your drawers. I’m good.” The man grunted and continued on in front of you. If someone had told you all those weeks ago that you’d be goading a handsome man about his underwear, you would have laughed at them. Well, you probably wouldn’t have since at that point, you’d forgotten how to laugh. You would have been shocked to say the least.
Everything was so vastly different now. New challenges and emotions to navigate your way through. The more profound of each of those being Daryl. Your feelings for him were strong and mostly unfamiliar. Desire, you’d felt that before, once upon a time. You could recall it from your life before. But you wanted him. In every way.
Every way.
Not just physically. And oh, did you want that part of him. This was heavier than that, so much deeper. A vast ocean that’s depths were terrifying but held beauty that called to you. Daryl was complex but beautiful. He was the first breath of spring as winter melted away, the scent of reawakenings and new life. He was that moment when the ominous darkness of a storm parted just enough for the blue sky to peer through. Dangerous, lethal but offering tenderness and safety behind his minaciousness.
You wanted to know his heart, hold it and keep it safe. You wanted to see his soul, wanted him to bare it to you willingly and tell you his secrets, his inner wars that he had battled alone. You wanted to fight them for him and let him rest. You wanted to touch his scars, show him gentleness where someone had marked him with cruelty.
But you would want forever.
You weren’t what Daryl deserved. He was worthy of the world and you could only offer him a chasm, dark and damaged and unrepairable.
You could want until the end of time.
You were dismally prepared to do just that.
God, he was exhausted. If walking for hours wasn’t enough reason, carrying himself as if he wasn’t suffering was wearing him down quickly. Hunger and thirst were turning his stomach inside out, but he couldn’t stop. He had to get you somewhere safe. Then he would rest. Actually rest. He still had water from the river and preparing the rabbit would be easy enough, allowing him to sit and give his tired, aching body a break.
“Daryl?”
He loved how his name rolled off your tongue. Focus, Dixon! “Hmm?”
“You, uh—are you okay? Really?”
He hesitated. He didn’t want you to worry. Causing you more stress after what you’d been through would be selfish. He just needed to find shelter. Anything would do at this point as long he could barricade it and there could be a fire, either inside or out. The weather was mild, the changing of seasons from summer to autumn. He would only need the fire to cook the rabbit.
“Daryl?”
Oh. You had asked him a question. “M’fine. Just tired.” You made a noncommittal sound, making it obvious that you knew something was off. Damnit. “Shoulder’s buggin’ me. Ain’t no big deal.”
“Maybe we should stop for a while.”
He had to admit, it was tempting. The problem was that if he stopped, he wasn’t sure he could get back up. “Nah, m’good.” As Dixon luck would have it, his body chose that moment to betray him. Daryl stumbled, the dizziness overwhelming him. He tried to lower to a knee, but as the ground shifted and drew closer, he tilted and his injured shoulder took the brunt of the fall. The desperate noise he heard was dampened beneath the onslaught of pain, the only indication that it was coming from him being the burn in his throat.
“Daryl! Goddamnit, you’re bleeding.”
Your face hovered over him, blurring in and out of focus like a camera steadying for the perfect shot. The canopy above you served as a stunning background for an image he would try his damndest to commit to memory. The trees acted as umbrellas, issuing the perfect amount of the bluest sky and filtering the light to a flawless dapple. It presented an ethereal halo to your already faultless beauty.
“Daryl. I need you to get up.”
There was an urgency to your tone that he couldn’t seem to react to, his brow knitting. When he tried to question, he wasn’t sure his mouth was even moving. Then you were gone. There was an overwhelming impulse to panic with your sudden absence. Daryl grabbed at that feeling and held on tight, using its influence to force his body to cooperate. He rolled onto his uninjured side, back protesting. A rucksack and crossbow do not perform adequately as a pillow. With a grunt, he lifted his head.
You were fending off four walkers on your own with his knife. No, you were driving them back. Daryl kept his eyes on you as he endeavored to make it to at least a sitting position. You kicked one back, unable to take it down before you cut off another that was getting too close to him. They could smell the blood, thick and coppery in the air. Jesus, how badly had he torn the wound?
He couldn’t fire the gun, even if it would be more effective. It would alert both the living and more of the dead. Maneuvering the crossbow from his back was painstakingly complicated, but soon enough, he was using his legs to hold it in place while he pulled the string back. He was only briefly ashamed of the whines and whimpers he couldn’t manage to stifle, his shoulder throbbing something awful. With the string captured by the latch, he was quick to load a bolt, trusting his ability enough to lift and fire with minimal aim.
The walker you were grappling dropped in a heap, your wide eyes seeking out Daryl. Before he could blink, you had thrown yourself at the next closest corpse, leaving the two that brought up the rear. By the time he had managed to load another bolt, you had pulled the knife from one skull and were stabbing the next. You were angling yourself towards the last one when a bolt zipped past your face and impaled itself through the walker’s eye.
With the immediate threat neutralized, Daryl let the crossbow fall from his grasp and fell onto his back, grimacing when the lumpy rucksack reminded him of its presence. A jolt of pain in his shoulder brought on a gasp, his hand instinctively going to rest on the throbbing area and coming away red.
“Are you okay?” You appeared over him again with those big, worried eyes. For reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt annoyed. Angry, even.
“M’peachy.” He answered flatly. Against every instinct, he sat up again, swatting away your hands when you silently offered to help. He avoided looking at you. The naked concern in your expression would only serve to bring on guilt that he couldn’t process on top of physical pain.
Finally on his feet, he shouldered his crossbow and scooped up the rabbit with a grunt, walking without speaking. You followed behind but at a distance, your untrained footfalls loud.
He wasn’t truly angry, not at you. It was his own selfishness behind his irritability. How badly he wanted to let you fuss over him and touch him. The way he wanted to touch you. He knew very little about your life before Jazz and the club. Hell, you didn’t know much, couldn’t recall many things before the trauma that had taken so much of who you were. Would you ever reclaim anything from your past, despite the hell you had lived through? How many pieces were missing? Could he help you find those parts of yourself?
The answer was no.
He couldn’t even piece himself back together.
Still, he knew what he wanted. And that scared him. He wanted you, broken or whole mattered little if at all. The unfamiliar territory he was treading drove him into retreat, battling to keep the bricks from reassembling into the walls you had torn down with such a small amount of effort.
Love wasn’t a word he tossed around carelessly. It had taken months to admit he felt any sort of affection toward the group he had allied himself with, despite what he had been willing to endure for them. What he felt toward you was so much different, reaching significantly farther than the responsibility he had claimed to be the justification. He knew what his useless, battered heart was trying to tell him but he had never followed it before, relying on experience and self preservation to guide him through a life he felt was sometimes meaningless.
You deserved so much more than what he could ever offer you. You, with your damnable kindness that should have been, by every right, snuffed out by the unspeakable cruelty you had endured. All things considered, you still worked tirelessly to find yourself or some semblance of who you were meant to be. It was admirable and only made him want you more.
That just wasn’t him. It was so far away from what he knew of himself, or thought he knew. But being around you brought out a sense of comfort and acceptance he was too scared to embrace or appreciate. Getting comfortable, feeling safe, would only lead to disappointment. He had learned that with his mother and even more so with his father. Just when he thought Will Dixon could change and be the parent he had needed, Daryl would only receive another wound, another scar, another reason to never trust anyone.
Then you challenged all of that.
You were a breath of fresh air amidst the decay he was accustomed to even before the turn. The calm of the forest after a hard rain, when things were still and he could immerse himself in the tranquility before the life that dwelled there ventured out to return to normal. You radiated the warmth the sun gifted during the bite of winter’s cold. You were everything that gave him solace when he had run scared as a child, convinced that there was no goodness in the world.
You were everything he was not.
And because of that, he couldn’t reach out to you in the way he wanted. He would only break you down when you deserved to be lifted onto the highest pedestal.��
You had been broken enough.
And you could shine without him.
You watched Daryl wear himself down to the point you thought his stubbornness would have him crawling rather than accepting your help. He hadn’t spoken a word to you since the walkers, even when the two of you needed to hide from another group of the dead. He refused to meet your eyes, pressing himself so hard against the tree that shielded you both that he would hiss in discomfort just to keep from touching you.
What had changed so drastically since you had left with Jazz? Why did he even come find you if he didn’t want you near him?
You were just about to attempt to talk to him when the small shack came into view. It wasn’t exactly a cabin but someone had lived there. A garden, long dead, was surrounded by short, broken fencing. An old generator was on the rickety porch-like structure with parts and rusted tools scattered around it. It was a dilapidated building but would serve the purpose.
Some of the visible tension melted out of Daryl’s shoulders. He was quite clearly exhausted and in pain. Before he could even begin to engage in anything strenuous, you jogged to catch up, holding up his knife where he could see that you still had it.
“I’ll check out the inside while you start a fire and take care of the rabbit.” You were trying for authoritative but it, of course, came out as a question. The hunter stopped halfway to the rotted wooden steps and angled his head toward you. Tired, blue eyes narrowed, studying as if solving a puzzle.
“Fine.” He huffed, dropping his bag but keeping his crossbow. He carried at his side, a silent reassurance that he was ready should you need him. Careful to avoid the weak spots, you were slow to make your way to the door. It was barely shut, hanging at an angle but maybe there would be something inside to push against it. With your hand flat on the wood, you started to open it. “Tap on it.” Daryl called quietly but loud enough for you to hear.
“What?”
“Tap on the door. The window. Just make a lil’ noise ‘fore ya go in.” He sounded exasperated but continued with his task. He probably thought you didn’t notice him watching you from the corner of his eye, finger hovering beside the trigger of his weapon.
“I doubt there’s anyone home.” You mumbled. He still likely heard you. Inwardly sighing, you tapped the blade of the knife against the doorframe. At first nothing happened. Just as you rolled your eyes and pushed against the door, something fell into it from the other side, the snarls and scratching making it obvious. When you looked back at Daryl, eyes wide, he was smirking at the circle of rocks he’d be using as a firepit.
When you sighed this time, it was one of determination. You could hear only one walker. That didn’t necessarily mean it was the only one, but if things went the way you planned, it would be simple to take out however many were inside. You were mindful of how you held the knife when you threw yourself against the door. It took two times to push the door open enough for the walker to come around it.
“The hell ya doin’?!”
“I got it.” Careful once again, you backed down the steps. “Come on.” The walker fell over the top step and tumbled, giving you an opportunity to glance at Daryl. He was aiming the crossbow, but the fact that he hadn’t fired when you both knew he could easily take it down meant that he was giving you a chance to do what you were attempting.
On its feet again, the dead woman followed you clumsily. You led her away from the structure, past the old garden, and then stopped to allow her closer.
“Y/N.” A clear warning.
“I got it, Daryl.” He should know. It was he and Carol who taught you. He had also told you that everyone fucks up sometimes. For you, this would not be one of those times. You lunged for it just before it could reach you and too quickly for it to grab you, plunging the knife into the walker’s eye. You pulled as the body fell, making the retrieval of the weapon a piece of cake. “Told you I had it.”
Daryl tried for a scowl but the twitch of his lips was evident even from a distance. So you grinned at him, prideful of what you had done. It probably wouldn’t have been a big deal to Carol or Michonne, but you were new to it all. You’d take a win where you could.
“You couldn’t drag it and neither could I.” You said in passing on your way back to the door. He grumbled something close to yeah, I could’a but you ignored him. The left shoulder of his shirt was saturated. You needed to sit him down and take a look. You weren’t very knowledgeable but you could at least put pressure on it until it clotted. Maybe? Did it work like that?
The little shack was clear of the dead now, the woman apparently living alone. You gave no thought to how she had died or how long she had been there. Inside was a simple set up. One room, a bed in one corner. Full size with some sort of furs as blankets. It was large enough for you both to sleep as you had before but given his change in demeanor, he was likely to want the floor.
There were iron kettles and pots stacked on a corner, along with an open med kit. Crossing to investigate, you glanced out to see Daryl crouched down and skinning the rabbit. The kit had a few bandaids, some Tylenol, and an opened square of gauze. Never knowing when you would need even the smallest of things, you removed the gauze and kept the rest, placing the small box on the bed.
A dresser sat in the other corner, two of the drawers broken and partly open. The woman had been just about your size. Maybe there was something you could use so parading around in front of Daryl with your ass out was no longer an issue.
“Bingo.” You smiled. The sweats were at least clean. They were a little baggy. Maybe she had looted them from somewhere else. It didn’t matter, really. A long sleeved flannel with most of the buttons missing was in the same drawer. There weren’t any other shirts, to your dismay. Pursing your lips, you decided to see how you could make it work.
The bustier had left red indents in your skin. You nearly moaned with relief while removing it. The flannel was actually missing all the buttons but you could work with it. You rolled up the bottom and tied the two ends together beneath your breasts. It was an odd crop top that made some of your lesser scars visible but nothing was hanging out, so winner winner chicken dinner. You grabbed the most comfortable looking of all the mismatched socks and walked toward the door.
You could smell the fire, your mouth watering at the thought of rabbit. No seasoning but beggars could not be choosers. First, however, you wanted to check the walker for shoes. The clothes somewhat fit so maybe shoes would too. “I’m gonna check to see if the—”
The socks fell to the porch, forgotten. Daryl’s forearm was red and blistered, the skin practically melted away from being too close to the fire. You grabbed his uninjured shoulder, thankful that was the side closest to the flames so you could simply roll him away. He had landed face down, unmoving when you spotted him.
Now lying on his back, you could clearly see his chest rising and falling. He was alive. “Daryl? Can you hear me?” Your hands cupped his face, the skin cool and clammy. That was good in one sense: no fever. It could, however, mean he’d lost too much blood. His shirt was sticky with it. You carefully peeled the fabric away from the wound, finding it open and still bleeding sluggishly. There were loose butterfly sutures with most of Hershel’s stitching popped or missing. “Idiot.” You sniffled.
Lifting his shoulder as high off the ground as you could manage, you let him come back to balance on your thigh and leaned to see the exit wound on his back. It was mostly fine, just one end where the skin was torn and puckered. You could work with that.
The medical kit inside was useless. You could only pray he had the sense to bring something with him. You dumped the contents of his bag in the ground, nearly sobbing at the sight of a kit from back home. You could at least pack the wound and dress it. Grabbing the small red bag and the canteen, you scurried back to his side. You’d have to fetch more water from somewhere after cooling the burn and cleaning his shoulder but you’d cross that bridge later.
At that moment, Daryl was priority one.
The first thing he heard was the cracking and popping of a fire, the smell of smoke and meat wafting into his nostrils. It simultaneously made his mouth water and his stomach turn. There was a groan, deep and drawn out. A walker? No. That was coming from him. Where the hell was he? His damn brain was foggy, clouded over from pain. Exhaustion threatened to pull him back under but the shuffle of leaves gave him just enough adrenaline to flinch away when someone touched his face.
“Easy. It’s just me.”
“Y/N.” He croaked, curling his lip at the sound of his voice. His mind began to fill in the blanks, memories sliding into place to form a timeline that ended where he was now, by the fire with right arm and left shoulder bandaged. The sky was a watercolor painting of purples and oranges, the sun long out of sight. “How long I been out?”
“Here.” You pressed the canteen to his lips and while he drank, he used his right hand to take over holding it. “A few hours.” He watched, head tilted, as you reached behind you to turn the rabbit on a spit. “I had to, uh—I had to leave you once to get water. I’m sorry.”
“Still here, ain’t I? Don’t gotta apologize.”
You took the canteen and replaced the lid. “I’m sorry that I covered you with leaves and put a dead walker on top of you.” You weren’t meeting his eyes. Shit. Had he been such an ass that you were afraid of him again? “I didn’t know what else to do. When you fell, you burned your arm. Between that and your shoulder, I used it all. I had—”
“I ain’t mad, Y/N. Jesus. Calm down.”
Your shoulders dropped. “If you’re not mad, then why are you acting different around me?”
“Let’s talk—let’s talk inside. After.” He gestured to the fire. “You’re gonna burn that.” He was glad he had at least finished prepping the rabbit before face-planting, made things a little easier for you while you were stuck watching over his dumb ass. You drew your bottom lip in between your teeth. You wanted to say something but swallowed it down with a tight-lipped smile and went back to the fire.
To be honest, he had pushed back the conversation because he wasn’t sure what he was going to say to you. He could blame his physical state, the blood loss and exhaustion. Then he’d be lying to you more than he already had. To tell you the truth would be to admit that he was no better than the men who had tortured you. Sure, there were feelings involved, something you appeared to have as little experience with as he did.
Nothing good could come from this. Maybe he needed to come clean just so you could understand why he needed to distance himself, if only until it all passed. Feelings were fleeting, nothing was forever.
“Here.” You were offering him a skewered portion of meat. “Try to eat. If we need more water, I know where to go.”
Daryl nodded his thanks and lifted the food to his mouth, stopping short to watch you seat yourself near the fire, drawing up your knees. The soft glow of firelight burned warm against your skin, flickering flames casting shadows that made the bruises and lacerations appear that much darker. You had cleaned yourself up while he was unconscious, changed into fresh clothes and shoes that had likely been inside the home. Even riddled with injuries and in oversized clothes, you were fucking beautiful.
Finally forcing himself to tear his eyes away from you, food was eaten in silence, the fire extinguished shortly afterwards to avoid drawing any unwanted attention. The hunter was impressed with how you were handling yourself with such minimal instruction from him.
“What?”
“Nothin’.” He cleared his throat, continuing as you went about gathering everything to move inside with only the moonlight guiding you. “Just—holdin’ your own out here. Don’t need me ‘round no more.” The statement was both fond and bitter, just another confirmation that he’d be doing the right thing by stepping away once you were safe.
You had stilled, but then carried on, leaving him for a heartbeat to deposit everything inside. Then you were crouching in front of him, reaching out, ready to help him inside. Your hand lifted at the last second, warm palm coming to rest gently against his cheek. He was leaning into the touch before he could stop himself, allowing that brief comfort even if it was entirely self-serving.
“I think I’ll always need you.” You smiled, gentle and sad, like you were reading his mind. “I’m okay with that.” Maybe you were, but he wasn’t.
His entire commitment to you from the beginning was to make you self reliant, let Carol help you figure out how to be a person again, and while training you hadn’t gone exactly how he’d planned,—he was never supposed to be involved—he was proud to say that you stood more of a chance now than when he had met you. He could step back and let Carol take over. Daryl never had a problem disappearing, he’d been doing it all his life. Hiding from his father, jumping from town to town with Merle. He could do it again. Even if it meant he’d have to leave the prison, the people he cared about, to keep you safe and give you a chance, he was willing.
You reached for him again and he swatted at your hands, using his right arm to balance while he got his feet beneath him. The burn ached beneath the bandage and Carol was likely to throttle him the moment they got back for how messed up his shoulder was, but it had been worth it. They would likely see the smoke from the factory, investigate from a distance, and return to the prison, either convinced that you and he were among the dead or they would keep a sharp eye out for your return.
He was ready to be back, if he was honest with himself. Take a few days to heal properly and then head out for a while on an extended hunt. Maybe he wouldn’t need to leave permanently. Maybe this would all fade as he hoped.
When he felt your hand between his shoulder blades and caught your eye, the myriad of emotions visible there even in the dim light reminded him that hope in that world was futile.
You indicated the weak points in the steps and followed him inside, closing the sad little door before shooing him away from the dresser.
“No way. You’re not pushing this with your bad shoulder. Go lie down.” When he remained there with a incredulous expression of you’re kiddin’, you squared your shoulders and looked every bit as scary as a wet kitten. “Go on, get.”
He exhaled a laugh through his nose and pressed his good hand to the top of the dresser only for it to be popped like a kid reaching for the cookies before supper. He found he was a cross between offended and impressed. “Listen, pipsqueak, I—”
“No, you listen, you stubborn mule.” Daryl’s mouth snapped shut, eyebrows shooting upward. Impressed, indeed. “You damn near killed yourself to get me out of there. I fixed it all up the best I could but I bet Hershel and Carol are gonna lock you in a cell regardless when we get back. So the more you rest, the less time you spend in solitary confinement, capiche?” You leaned your weight against the piece of furniture but stood up again with an angry pout. “And don’t call me pipsqueak!” He filed away that nickname for later. Would there be a later? No, he couldn’t think about that right now.
“Fine.” He huffed and let his hand fall away. He didn’t move just then though, quite frankly enjoying watching you struggle with the task on your own while he unlaced and removed his boots. You grumbled and cursed but finally succeeded, turning to him with a victorious, high-pitched hmmph. Daryl shook his head and turned toward the bed in the corner, a small half-smile gracing his features.
The mattress had two blackbear furs on it. No pillows but it was unlikely that you gave any more fucks about it than he did. Utilizing his good arm, he snatched the edge of one fur and dragged it off onto the floor, toeing at it to spread it out.
“Daryl?”
“Hmm?” When you didn’t say anything, he turned, finding you in the middle of the room, wringing your hands with one of the saddest expressions of trepidation he’d ever seen you wear. Fuck. He knew what was coming.
“Why are things different now?” You were staring at the bear skin as if it were still a living creature that was driving a wedge between the two of you. “Are you mad at me for leaving? I just wanted to protect you like you protect me. I couldn’t stand the thought of—”
“Told ya I ain’t mad.” Daryl interjected when the words just kept tumbling out. “Weren’t happy ‘bout it, but I get why ya did it.” I would’a done the same. The hunter kicked at the edge of the fur even though it was already laying flat. You sniffled and his head snapped up. “Nah, Y/N, don’t cry.”
“We slept in the same bed before. Why can’t we now?”
He inwardly groaned. Why was this a big deal? Did you just need comfort? Stupid. Of course you did. You’d been through the wringer. He was so emotionally ignorant. Selfish. “Ain’t a big deal. I’ll sleep on the bed.” He bent to retrieve the fur.
“Why don’t you want to? Are you—I know you know what they did to me. I’m—disgusting.”
Oh, fuck no. “Don’t say that. Ain’t your fault what they did.” He was crossing the distance before he realized his feet were moving, stumbling to a halt in front of you, just barely restraining from dragging you into him. “Things are—just diff’rent.” Your big eyes were shining, wet and full of questions.
“Different how then?” You reached for him. He wanted to retreat but he couldn’t seem to get his legs to cooperate. “How can I fix it?”
His face twisted into a grimace, turning away from you and then back in the same movement. “Ya can’t cause ya didn’t do nothin’ wrong.” You were hugging him around his torso before he could stop you, your warmth seeping through his shirt for his chilled skin to soak up. “Y/N, I can’t.”
“You can’t what?” Goddamnit. Why was this so hard?
“Ain’t it obvious? I need to let ya go.” And his damn voice cracked. He still hadn’t made a move to hold you. If he did, he wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. He felt you shift, now looking up at him again with your arms still firmly wrapped around his sides. And though he scrambled to grasp a single sliver, the anguish in your gaze shattered the last of his resolve.
The back of his knuckles stroked your cheek before he hooked a finger beneath your chin to hold you as you were.
“Daryl?”
He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the effort. “Wanna—can I kiss ya?” Your face crumbled, the tears you had been controlling finally wetting your cheeks. His hand fell away. “M’sorry. That was stupid. Don’t know what I was thinkin’.” He tried to step back and give you space but your hold kept him immobile, your head shaking back and forth.
“It isn’t that. It’s just—” Your breaths were shallow spasms, chin wobbling. “No one’s ever asked me before.”
His heart didn’t just ache, it broke. The idea of doing anything you hadn’t consented to was nauseating. For all the hell he’d been through and cruelty he’d seen, he still couldn’t fathom hurting someone like you purposefully. No one had asked before kissing you? Did you mean before the turn? God, the urge to just hold you was dizzying, to protect you without ever letting you leave his arms.
You worked hard to get yourself under control, straightening to look at him as steadily as you probably could manage. “Ask me again. Please.”
His heart was hammering. He knew you could hear it. Tongue sliding across his bottom lip, he leaned down until your noses were almost touching. “Can I kiss ya?”
“Yes.” Your eyes flitted to his lips and back to his eyes.
This was what he wanted but now he couldn’t seem to remember how. Still, he’d rather it be a clumsy disaster than leave you questioning. He leaned in closer, parting his lips slightly to make his intentions clear even though you had consented. His lips pressed into yours, mirroring the way you opened in invitation. There was a tentative sweep of his tongue, grazing your own. You relaxed with a contented sigh that traveled down his throat, rattled his spine, and cradled his heart. He wasn’t just taking what you were willingly giving, he was learning.
You wanted this.
He had never been so wrong but he wasn’t exactly built for picking up any cues you had given him, intentionally or not. He felt himself begin to tremble, suddenly void of any semblance of confidence.
When your fingertips brushed over the nape of his neck, pressing gently to pull him closer and deepen the kiss, he shivered involuntarily. It was a slow dance of pent up emotion, gradually charging the air around where the pair of you stood. His own hand lifted to the side of your neck where his thumb brushed back and forth over your jaw. It was only when his lungs began to burn that he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours while you both panted.
“Is this what you want too?” You shrank into yourself timidly and awaited his answer. He chuckled breathily and ignored the pain so his other hand could cradle your face as well, using both of his thumbs to sweep away your tears that still fell uninhibitedly.
“Yeah, pipsqueak. S’what I want.”
“Don’t call me pipsqueak.” Your tone was breathless, eyes hooded, your arms winding around his neck.
He kissed you again. Hands moving to your waist and then around to your back, bending you slightly to curve over you. Your hands slid to his chest and curled into his shirt as best they could while being wedged between your bodies. The second kiss was no less gentle but held no reluctance. He’d laid all the cards on the table, against his better judgment, never expecting to be rewarded.
The fear of hurting you in some way was still very much present, a lingering warning in the back of his mind that he chose to ignore in favor of licking into your mouth, stealing another taste. And then another. And another. You were intoxicating, one indulgence would never be enough.
There were no objections from you when he maneuvered your bodies to turn, never parting during the journey to the bed. He didn’t allow the back of your knees to meet the mattress, but instead used the hold he maintained around your middle to lift you up and lay you back. He was leaning over you, mouths still moving together only to part for you to crawl backward and further onto the soft surface.
There was the smallest flicker of panic that he had taken it too far, that you were trying to escape, but then you were reaching for him. Your fingers pressed gently into his ribs as soon as he was within reach and allowed you to guide him over you, opening your legs to allow room for him. Daryl hesitated, noticing the fine tremors in your hands.
He leaned in for a chaste kiss on the corner of your mouth and then sat back on his knees to grant you a bit of space. “Ain’t gotta do anythin’ ya ain’t ready for.” His pants were already tight, the strain on his groin nearing an unbearable yet delicious pressure that might have been just enough to both give him relief and cause him embarrassment.
He was far past the point of no return, prepared to give you everything or nothing at all. Whatever you needed or didn’t. His hand was resting just above your hip, thumb brushing back and forth in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.
“Just tell me what ya need.”
You were scared to the point of panic, waiting for the inevitable pain that would accompany his baser instincts to take what he wanted. But this was Daryl. Training aside, he’d only ever shown you gentle touches that were fleeting and reluctant, to just as much appease his own anxiety as well as yours.
The reasonable part of you knew he’d never intentionally hurt you. The part of you that had been traumatized so purposefully had been conditioned to submit and bear the burden of agony to ensure he was satisfied. It was almost enough to send you spiraling into that dark place where you could hide. Maybe it already was. Your chest felt tight, breathing was becoming difficult. You felt like you would shake into pieces, each fragment bearing witness to the disappointment he’d certainly let show.
“Hey.” His raspy voice was just as gentle as the whisper of his fingertips that were now caressing your jaw. “Ain’t gonna hurt ya. Nothin’s gotta happen. We can just lay here.”
You swallowed hard enough to hurt. “But you want this.”
A deep red began to rise on his cheeks, spreading down his chest and up to his ears. “Yeah, I do. Don’t mean m’gonna take it from ya.” His voice was strained, uncertainty working its way in even as he tried to maintain control. His tender touches carried on, fingers carving a soft path down your neck and over your collarbone but skipping your breasts entirely. Then he was rubbing his palm up and down your bare side, below where you had secured the flannel. His skin was still chilled from blood loss. “Can I—will ya let me try somethin’?”
What could he possibly want to try? The act itself was simple for him: undress you, enter you, chase his pleasure. He’d be gentle, you knew that, even if you needed to constantly remind yourself. You found that even suffocating under the weight of your fear, you ached to feel him inside of you, wanted to make him feel good. He deserved to feel good. So if there was something he wanted to try, you’d allow it. Chewing on your bottom lip, you nodded.
He returned the gesture and slid his palm over your abdomen, bringing it to rest on the front of your sweatpants. “Just say the word an’ I’ll stop.” The need to fight back the dampness in your eyes presented itself once more. Your exhale shook but you nodded again.
Bringing his injured arm into the movement, he dipped his fingers below the elastic waistband and paused, glancing at you for what you assumed was an opportunity to stop him. You said nothing, curiosity intertwined with apprehension while you watched him.
Daryl was slow to drag the article of clothing down your legs, taking the time to delicately pull each foot from the ribbed cuffs before dropping them to the floor just beside the bed. Easy to grab in case you changed your mind maybe? The cool air against your skin—your scars—was more than a little jarring but you forced yourself to keep still.
He was careful when he finally touched you, just above your right knee where a faint, raised imperfection resided. The permanent reminder of James, a regular client with a malicious enjoyment of knife play. There was no pity in the way he looked at your skin, just a reverent understanding. You had seen his scars. He was comprehensive of the callousness that one human could show another.
Now that he was touching you so intimately while you were spread open before him, you remembered that neither of you had anything to make penetration any less uncomfortable. You were used to it, you supposed. Some men just used your blood and some used lubricant provided by the club. Others just drove in dry. There was also the lack of condoms, dental dams.
Daryl’s other hand came to rest on the inside of the opposite thigh, his rough palms kneading the flesh of each, while he looked back and forth between them. Ever so slowly, he slid his hands below to rest centimeters away from where your ass curved into your leg. He simply left them there and bowed over you, pressing his mouth just above the waistband of your panties.
You gasped. His lips were chapped but soft and warm, in direct contrast to the coolness gripping the backs of your thighs. Regardless, it wasn’t the feeling of his touches that surprised you, it was the result of those touches.
There was a rush of heat at your center that seemed to whittle its way back and forth to your stomach, the muscles of your abdomen twitching against Daryl’s mouth. Your clit was beginning to pulse. You were no stranger to arousal, or so you had thought. Maybe that was another part of you that had been chipped away because nothing that you could remember felt like this.
“This okay?”
With a sharp inhale, you looked at him, only then realizing your breathing had picked up. Daryl was completely still, waiting with a patience you had only seen a few times since you’d known him.
“Y-yeah.”
Eyes on you, he lowered his head and pressed an open mouthed kiss to a scar parallel to your navel, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh of your thighs. Looking at him, watching him watch you felt too intimate. The back of your head pressed into the pillow, your own hands coming to rest on either side of your head.
Daryl was already doing more for you than any man while you were at the club. What he seemed to be doing was comforting you, showing reposeful attention to each mar littered across your skin. Once he had completed that particular endeavor, he switched to doing the same to the smooth areas in between.
You bit back a whine when he relinquished his hold on your thighs and slid his hands to your hips, slipping a finger beneath each strip of fabric across your hips. Before he could ask permission, you shot upright, forcing him back.
“Wait!”
“Yeah, okay!” His hands came up next to his head, palms out. “M’sorry, was gonna ask.”
“No, I know. It’s not—it’s just—” you had started shaking your head as you sat up and hugged yourself tightly, a whimper escaping unchecked. “Todd, he would cut me if I didn’t behave or didn’t perform. He was so angry over his brother but Jazz wouldn’t—he wouldn’t let Todd kill me. So, he cut me instead.”
Daryl muttered a quiet Jesus and raked his fingers through his hair. You knew he was working it out, flaming fury burning in his blue eyes when it all clicked.
“I’m sorry.” You ducked your head away from his anger. Nothing was directed toward you, but the actual heaviness of his rage was frightening.
“Nah, ya don’t say sorry for that. Ever. Ya hear me?” His left hand was squeezing the bandage-covered burn on his right forearm, using pain to ground himself. You knew the method well. “Wanna bring his ass back so I can kill ‘im again. Slower.”
You weren’t sure there was anything you could say. It was done, the moment was over. You gave him a nod and began to draw up your knees but his hands were quick to stop you. With a quizzical stare, you said his name.
“Got scars too. Sure ya saw ‘em when ya patched up my shoulder.” His hands remained on your partially bent knees, grip firm but trembling. Maybe it was a terrible time, probably the worst, but you felt compelled to be truthful.
“I saw—I, uh, saw them before that, Daryl.”
“Shower. I know.”
Saucer-sized eyes snapped over to him, your body going rigid, cheeks burning with shame. “You—knew?” Daryl hummed an affirmation. “Do you wanna talk about them? Your scars.”
He shook his head slowly, no. “Not yet. This ain’t ‘bout me.” The archer sat back on his heels. “Just, ya know, wanted ya to know that I get it. We got scars. Seein’ ‘em ain’t gonna change anythin’.” Maybe bringing up what else you had seen that night wasn’t such a great idea. “Ya good?” You gave a quick nod. “Get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.” Not where you thought things were headed. You weren’t ready to stop just yet. Shaken, but not beaten.
You moved quickly, pulling your legs beneath you to rise up on your knees where he still sat on his. Your hands bracketed his neck and your mouth was slotted over his, relieved he didn’t freeze. Quite the opposite, he pulled you flush against him with an arm around your waist and the opposite hand on the back of your head. Your chest was heaving when you angled your chin to pull away your mouth, leaving your face close, your nose nuzzling his. His eyes were still closed.
“Please don’t stop.” If he wanted to—really wanted to— end things there, you wouldn’t try to persuade him otherwise. You held onto hope that the hard bulge pressed against your stomach meant you wouldn’t even need to try. When his eyes opened, the blue that was always giving a glimpse of the kindness he tried to hide was a mere thin line around lust-blown pupils.
Maybe he wouldn’t notice your deep, steadying breath but even if he did, he was possibly just too enamored with watching you lie back, your nimble fingers untying the front of the flannel. With one last glance at Daryl, unmoving and patient with his hands balled into fists on his thighs, you spread open the shirt. More scars adorned your breasts, but while Jazz’s clients would curl their lips and scoff, the archer's eyes raked over your flesh with what you could only be described as unabashed wonder and appreciation.
Clinging dramatically to your sudden burst of bravery, you straightened your legs on either side of his hips and hooked your fingers into the straps of the thong to drag the fabric down, keeping your thighs pressed as tightly together as you could manage while lifting one leg and then the other. The white material hung from your left ankle, your knees bent and closed just above where Daryl remained sitting on his own.
“Y/N.”
“Please don’t try to talk me out of this.” Hands resting on your thighs, you dug in your nails, the slight burn providing an anchor against your fear. It was becoming increasingly more difficult to maintain composure, but that didn’t matter. Whether that night or a year into the future, you would need to battle these demons. “I just want to feel something—real.”
His eyes flashed up to yours, an understanding there that needn’t be spoken. Your wounds and his had been inflicted so differently but your scars were the same; a map of your lifetime, of bravery and endurance among such suffering.
“Alright.” He rasped after another moment of silence. His hands lifted from his lap to hover just above your knees. There was a twitch in his clenched jaw, a spasm of pain from his shoulder but nothing more. The pressure he applied to urge your legs flat was barely there, a slight encouragement that lacked any demand. It was awkward but you somehow succeeded in keeping your thighs together.
Daryl’s fingertips began easing into the space just above your knees to urge your legs to part, not making it far before he stopped. His jaw worked back and forth, teeth gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip. While you wanted to spread yourself open, you couldn’t seem to find the nerve.
Not until his next move.
His gaze remained on your thighs while he worked slowly to pop open the buttons of his shirt, one by one. There was a shadow of a moment where you considered stopping him; telling him it wasn’t necessary. He seemed to think it was. Quid pro quo, maybe; ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’
You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you feel more at ease.
The archer shrugged the shirt from his right shoulder, then gingerly slid it off the left. You avoided staring after the initial glance. It wouldn’t do to make him feel more exposed than he was. You couldn’t, however, erase the image of his naked torso. His skin was dirty, caked with dried blood from the wound, but he was beautiful, ruggedly handsome with tanned skin pulled over whipcord lean muscle. You had always found jealousy in the ogling stares of the prison women but you understood. To be the one he was sharing this much of himself with was dizzying.
He didn’t make a move for his belt, crawling toward you instead, the press of his knee where your legs were sealed together was gentle in its attempt at prying you open. You parted them, a little more confident without him staring down at your mutilated flesh.
Daryl held his weight above you on his right arm with the slightest tremble of exertion. He must have seen you glance over, worry etched in your eyes, because then he was shaking his head with a quiet s’fine.
You tried to recall when you had lost your virginity, but couldn't seem to pull up a face or name or even a clear memory, but you wondered if it’d been something like that. Two hesitant individuals with the knowledge of the other’s desire for them but completely clueless when it came to implementing that into some sort of action. Like horny, inexperienced teenagers. You would have chuckled if the dark reality of justification wasn’t hovering over your bodies like a dense, suffocating fog.
You flinched minutely when Daryl dipped his head, hot breath wafting over your exposed nipple. He made no further attempt, looking up at you from beneath his lashes, seeking consent and it made your eyes sting. Your fingertips grazed over a scar on his temple with the slightest curiosity of where it came from, but dismissed it in order to splay open your fingers against the back of his head and pull him toward your chest.
You gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the touch so foreign that your body didn’t seem to understand how to react. Gooseflesh prickled across your chest and down your arms, your other hand jolting upward to join the first, unintentionally holding Daryl in place, silently pleading for an encore.
He didn’t disappoint. Shifting over, he briefly pressed his lips to your sternum before his tongue circled your other nipple, drawing the pebbled nub into his mouth. The slow, tenderly executed motions had your lower belly burning with a feeling your traitorous body had experienced while a stranger fucked into you despite your unwillingness.
The archer didn’t remain where he was for long, moving to drag his tongue down your torso and dip it into your navel. There was a full bodied shiver, your legs instinctively spreading wider. You didn’t even realize it until his open mouth was against the skin just above the tuft of hair at the apex of your thighs.
You felt the familiar stirring of panic and you tilted your chin toward your chest to look at him, finding him staring right back. His lips remained stagnant against that spot, his dark gaze searching your face for permission. It took two deep, calming breaths, both worryingly difficult to achieve before you nodded. His mouth was against the beginning of the scars that he would soon find on the ruins of your cunt. But then he did something unexpected.
He closed his eyes.
At first you thought he was avoiding a disgust that would dampen his desire for you. Then he was touching you, mapping out each jagged line with the tips of his fingers, neglecting not a single one.
He was allowing you to acclimate to the new experience.
You couldn’t remember ever being touched so tenderly, or a man ever willingly exploring your most sensitive area beyond driving their dick into your dry entrance. Daryl had yet to even delve between your folds, his attention solely on conveying acceptance of your imperfections. The fear of rejection and anticipation gave way in a rush of wetness you hadn’t realized your body was capable of, a physical indication that you appreciated what he was doing.
Your hands were still loose on the back of his head, making it possible to speak your consent and insistence without words. Your nails scraped lightly over his scalp for your fingers to tangle in his hair, urging him onward and asking him to open his eyes and see you. Despite his valiant actions to bring you comfort, you needed to witness his reaction.
He was slow to peel open those pretty eyes, still dark with desire. You laughed around tears when there was the flash of arousal in the pools of blue. He was seeing the whole of you and not just the desolate ruins. He was appreciating what you were offering him. There wasn’t a single scrap of hesitation or disinterest. His tongue was parting your folds to taste you, but then his eyes widened and he reeled back just enough to put a couple of inches between your hot, slick slit and his mouth.
“M’sorry.” He was apologizing for his naked desire that had propelled him to touch you without seeking permission. But you weren’t even remotely upset, hadn’t even considered anything beyond the scorching trail his tongue had left in its wake. You could do nothing but whimper and card your fingers through his hair, canting your hips upward in silent pleading for him to continue.
And continue he did.
Daryl dove in like a man starved and you were the finest meal he’d ever had, his tongue lapping at you while his large hands pressed against your inner thighs to spread you wider. He had only just begun and there was pleasure like you had never before felt, that you didn’t even know was possible.
When he gave a satisfied hum against you and latched his mouth over your clit, the wanton noise that left you was positively pornographic. Your hips jerked and your grip on his hair tightened. No wonder the clientele had never made this a priority. What would they get from this beyond perhaps the enjoyment of the mewls and breathy moans that you couldn’t seem to stifle? None of them wanted that.
But Daryl was drinking it up, his tongue working your sensitive bud harder and faster with each sound you offered him.
When you felt the tip of his index finger circle your opening, there was a jolt of fear; an anticipation of pain but he wasn’t moving. Once again he waited patiently for your approval, but all the while, his tongue continued its assault. Your mind warred with the desire to be filled by him in any and every way and the terrifying inevitability of the pain you had been led to believe was the norm.
In the end, your undeniable hunger for him prevailed. “Please.” You panted, grinding your hips against his face. The feel of stretching around his thick digit wasn’t anything like you were accustomed to, the gentlest of burning, molding until he was fully inside. Your inner walls fluttered around the intrusion with a stuttering of your hips. It felt so good that you began to question if it was really happening at all.
When Daryl moved his finger, pulling it back to drag over your insides, you watched his eyes roll with a deep groan against your clit. There was a tightening within your belly that held a promise of something delicious but Daryl seemed to be enjoying what he was doing just as much—if not more— than you were.
He kept the action slow and deliberate, allowing you to adjust not only physically but mentally as well. You had been denied pleasure, something you were sure he deduced from your tears over his request to kiss you. It wasn’t until you moaned his name and rolled your hips against his hand that he doubled down in his efforts to bring you to your high.
He worked at your clit with wanton abandon, sucking and licking and grazing his teeth over the swollen, stiff bundle of nerves, all the while pumping his finger in and out of you with a gentle, deep push and pull that directly contradicted his vigorous onslaught with his mouth.
God, you had never felt so good.
“Daryl.” You whined, writhing and tugging on his hair. He chuckled against your slick cunt. Goddamn him, he actually chuckled. “I don’t—it feels—hhhnnngg—”
“Easy, pipsqueak.”
“Don’t call me th—oh.” He had slowed down, languidly brushing his nose over your clit while thrusting his finger deep and curling it against a spot inside you that made your toes curl. You couldn’t remember the last time you came or if you had at all. Daryl pulled almost all the way out of you before pressing his middle finger against your drenched hole, requesting to join the other but not advancing it further.
God, you appreciated his need for consent but at the same time you wanted to shake him and demand he keep going.
Instead of responding verbally, you angled your hips and pushed down against him, taking both fingers inside you, your velvety walls pulling at his digits to suck them in deeper. You weren’t cognizant of anything anymore, only the rush of urgent need to feel that knot in your belly twist tighter.
“Fuck.” Daryl whispered before circling his tongue around where his fingers disappeared inside of you. When he began thrusting into you after your desperate whining, it was still at an agonizingly slow pace. You understood why he was being so gentle.
Because no one ever had.
And, though your body begged for the alternative, you needed to feel it that way, feel valued and cherished and worth pleasing.
Daryl made you feel that. He ignored his own needs. You had definitely noticed the way he continued to shift his hips, holding himself carefully away from the mattress. Was he truly that aroused by pleasuring you?
The train of thought derailed when he sucked hard on your clit, flicking the end of his tongue over it while it was drawn from beneath the thin hood of flesh by the suction of his mouth. His left hand shot up to your hip with a pained grunt to keep you immobile for the moment, your whines and whimpers morphing into shouts and moans. Daryl released the small bud and pressed his tongue against it, and when you looked down, you found his gaze on you with an intensity that drew that coiled knot inside you even tighter, threatening to snap it loose.
“Please, Daryl—I don’t—I need—”
“S’okay, pip. Just let go.” His tongue pressed against you again, a firm stimulation that when combined with the twist and curl of his fingers inside you brought a sudden heat from deep in your lower abdomen. It engulfed you, centering on the now vehement circling of Daryl’s tongue on your clit. Your body vibrated, your hips rolling now that he had removed his hand in favor of keeping one shaking thigh pressed down while the other sought it out to squeeze and hold him in place.
You were mumbling, then shouting, random words in incoherent sentences. His name and a plea and a call to a god you didn’t believe in, desperate and overwhelmed. You had never felt pleasure like this, never been allowed to drown in an ecstasy that another person could draw from you.
You had definitely never orgasmed before; regardless of your trauma, that feeling would be something you would surely remember.
You were clueless as to how long you were under the spell of complete and total bliss, falling limp with your bare chest heaving. You didn’t even feel the tears until Daryl was hovering over you, his thumb catching the moisture before it could run across your temple.
“Y’alright?” You hummed, still weightless and floating in the space between reality and wherever it was the archer had sent you. He smirked, his hand still against your neck with his thumb sweeping back and forth over your cheekbone. “Think ya need to sleep some now.” Just like that, you were completely lucid, sitting up to pull him into a feverish kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a profound sense of intimacy but you felt another pulse run through your cunt, centering at your clit.
“Please.” You whispered against his mouth, feeling how his breath trembled. As you met his eyes, they were rising away from your lips and looking back at you. He studied you, seemed to be peering into your very soul. He urged you back down when next his mouth slotted over yours. Your hands slid from his shoulders and down to his hips, pulling and guiding him until he was nestled between your thighs. He still wore his pants but his erection was undeniable and likely painful by that point. He wanted you and not in the same way all the men before him did. Daryl wanted you as more than just a hole to be fucked. He wanted you and all your splintered parts and defects. He wanted you but was willing to wait to have you. It only made your desire for him increase tenfold.
“You’re sure ya want this?”
“Yes.” You replied without thought or hesitation. “I want this and I want it with you.” Deft fingers were already sliding from his hips to his belt buckle, working it open while he peppered sloppy kisses over your neck and shoulder.
“Won’t last long.” He mumbled against your collarbone. There was a sadness to his tone. Did he really think he could disappoint you?
“You just made me feel so good, Daryl, and you did it without hurting me. You made me feel—” Loved. The word never made it off your tongue, but you shifted his focus with a nibble against his throat. “I’ll take whatever you’ll give me.” Button open and zipper down, you caressed your way around him and pushed the denim, along with his boxer briefs, down over his ass. Kneading your fingers across each buttock, the muscles twitching. With the combined use of your hands and feet, you managed to get his pants down to his ankles, leaving him to kick them off.
You didn’t look, but you could feel. His cock slid back and forth in your nectar with his hips lazily rocking, his mouth on your breasts. You couldn’t suppress the whine that climbed up to press against your teeth. You needed him inside you. It was never like this before. You were terrified of any man being near you in such a way, but there was little more than residual fear there. Nothing of Dary’s doing. You struggled to slide your hand between your bodies but the archer caught your wrist and brought it toward his mouth to kiss your palm before he guided you to rest it beside your head. He did the same with the other hand.
Sex like this was different to say the least. He wasn’t rushing to penetrate you, or rutting into you like you were a bitch in heat. Even with the heated weight of him nestled against your labia, he didn’t go into a frenzy. It went against everything you had been taught was normal. But that was just Daryl, wasn’t it?
Always showing you that the truth had never fit into Jazz’s narrative.
“Hey.” The archer brushed his nose against yours. “Thinkin’ so loud, you’re makin’ my head hurt.” When you had taken too long to articulate a response, his lips descended onto yours once again, moving with such care while you followed his lead. His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling with yours. If you weren’t careful, you’d get drunk on the taste of him. Maybe it was too late and you already were.
He balanced on his right forearm to ease his hand to your breast, cupping and weighing it, rolling your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger with a firm squeeze. You arched into him as far as you could beneath his weight, mewling his name with a whisper of more, please into his mouth. You wanted so badly to touch him, to spur him onward. Each time you lifted a hand, he was catching it and lowering it back down.
By the time he decided to reach down, line himself up, you were a panting, squirming mess, caught somewhere between anxious anticipation and lingering doubt. A whimper shook just behind your lips as his tip nudged your slick entrance. He was hesitating, staring at what he could see of you and himself from where he balanced atop you.
“It’s okay.” You soothed, hand trembling while he allowed the comfort of your fingers gliding through his hair. “I want this.”
“Don’t, uh—” he began, his throat working to swallow around the words that were trapped there. “Don’t want ya to do anythin’ ya might regret.”
“Who in their right mind could ever regret the chance to be with you?”
The look he fixed on you was nearly devastating, wide, shining eyes that were radiating disbelief. Carol and the others had worked so hard to help you realize your worth. You wondered, dimly, why they hadn’t spent as much time convincing him of his own. There was sudden disappointment that you didn’t know him from before, that the two of you didn’t find one another before things went to shit. You would have gladly spent every single minute of every single day showing him how amazing he was.
Daryl had dropped his head, any view of his face hidden behind his fringe. Was there anything you could do for him? You wanted this—needed it, craved it—but that all consuming desire was easily pushed aside and replaced with the want to show him gentleness. You’d pull him down to rest with his head over your heart. Maybe you could even find the words to explain why he’d hear it galloping behind your ribs, how it was more than a baser need, how it wasn’t sexual in the least. It was simply the effect of having him that close to you, offering you a part of him that none of the women at the prison had ever even been considered to receive.
You gasped, nails biting into his bicep as he began to breach you. It burned, and with that sensation came the shock of knowing that a stranger had been fucking you only hours before, but this was still pushing your body to its limit to accept Daryl. He stopped once the tip rested inside, for both your benefit as well as his own. He was already twitching, possibly not physically able to go further without spilling inside of you. Would he? You could almost feel the cum leaking around him to spill out of your cunt, wanted to experience how it would make your body soar. However, there were very valid concerns that would make that unlikely.
“Y’okay?” His voice was strained, gravelly, and unfortunately for Daryl, your body reacted by involuntary squeezing him. He keened, a low noise in the back of his throat. In lieu of a reply, you dragged up your legs and pressed your heels against the curve of his ass, pushing him deeper. His head fell onto your shoulder with a grunt. “Goddamn—”
Your cunt wrapped around him in a perfect mold, so tightly that you could feel the vein that ran underneath his cock. Gasping and moaning, you let your knees fall outward and pushed against him with your heels until he was fully sheathed within your warm, fluttering walls. And then you were lost in him. The first thrust was more a roll of his hips, driving so deeply inside of you that you could feel him nudging your limit yet still carving his way further. It was amazing to immerse yourself in the chasm between pain and pleasure, without a sense of foreboding weighing heavily to suffocate you. Daryl was your safe place, and now that you couldn’t seem to tell where you ended and he began, you could draw upon that ardor and submit to him completely.
Submission was something you knew well, but this was different. It was a conscious choice made out of desire and not fear. You were ready to willingly drown in him and let him decide when to pull you up for air. Another roll of his hips saw you breathing his name, your hands roaming over the broad expanse of his back, over the raised and uneven skin. The archer growled next to your ear, sucking on the lobe before progressing with intentionally wet kisses and nibbles over your jaw before claiming your lips.
He was so gentle in his movements, allowing both of you what you needed while still reminding you that sex could be enjoyable. No one had ever made love to you that you could remember. Maybe before the end of the world, but that no longer mattered. The memories could stay buried for all you cared. You wanted this, there in that moment. With Daryl.
“Need ya to tell me you’re okay.” He murmured with his lips brushing over yours. His sporadic presses into your body became a rhythm, continuous and deep, but just as slow and steady. The heat in your belly was already simmering just from the drag of him inside of you, feeling him twitch and swell.
“I’m okay, yeah. I’m okay.” You managed, encouraging him to bare his neck to you with a gentle nudge of your cheek against his jaw. His moan cut off, hips stuttering when you bit down on skin over his pulse. There was the slight taste of copper on your tongue. He groaned and grabbed at your hands, one at a time, to push them back down on either side of your head, lacing his fingers through yours. His grip tightened with every languid thrust, only to loosen when he pulled back his hips. His face was buried against your shoulder again, choking off moans and failing in the attempts to hold back the whimpers, he was throwing gasoline onto the fire inside of you. “I’m—I think I’m—” Your chest arched and pressed against him, his left hand releasing yours to move down and cradle your lower back, angling your hips to allow him to carve his way impossibly deeper. You could feel him moving in your lower belly, each push back into you prodding a spot that had your toes curling.
You began to orgasm before you could even warn him, so lost in the colors and shapes of a different reality while your cunt clenched around him so forcefully that he grunted your name and squeezed your hand. You knew you were shouting but could do nothing to stop it. It just felt so sublime, so right. Dary was still at your ear, panting and grunting through clenched teeth. He was hanging on by a thread.
“Y/N, m’gonna—fuck, m’gonna cum.”
He slipped out of you so suddenly that you whined, twisting your other hand free to encircle both arms beneath his, holding him close and steady as he spilled onto your throbbing pussy. His chest was heaving, the frequent puffs of air so warm against your skin. His muscles were taut beneath your palms, rippling while he rode out his high with lazy thrusts, his cock brushing against your groin. Then he was still, collapsing on top of you but cognizant enough to shift his weight so as to not crush you.
The room was quiet then, save for the heavy breaths. It was damn near eerie but entirely forgotten when the archer pushed himself up on his elbows, his eyes tired and glazed over.
“Did I hurtcha?” It was almost a whisper, as if he was trying to avoid someone overhearing and catching you both naked and sweating.
“No.” You smiled and pulled him back against your shoulder. “Not at all.” It took several more minutes before your own breaths had slowed to an even cadence. Daryl had all but melted into you, sated and sleepy and vulnerable. It felt like an honor to hold him in such a way, coaxing out the stress and despair so that his muscles relaxed and he felt safe enough to close his eyes. One hand rubbed across his back, pausing with each twitch or sharp inhale. Your other hand was busy cradling the back of his head and combing your fingers through his hair.
“Daryl?”
“Hmm?’’ When you angled your head to look down at him, you found yourself smiling. His eyes were losing the battle to stave off the call of sleep.
“Thank you.”
But he was already out, the exhaustion from the last few days pulling him under with relative ease. As you held him close, you felt your own eyes grow heavy. One of you should really have stayed awake and kept watch, but sleep was relentlessly dragging you down.
With one last kiss into Daryl’s hair, you closed your eyes, feeling the tears sting but you were too tired to fight them off.
“Thank you.”
#murda writes#the dixon chronicles#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon smut#daryl dixon angst#daryl smut#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl angst#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl dixon twd#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl x female reader#daryl dixon walking dead#daryl x reader#the walking dead daryl#daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl twd#twd daryl#x reader#x female reader#Spotify
144 notes
·
View notes
Text
Try to Love Me, Honey Please
A/N: hello!! This is the first time I’m posting any fics on this account, so I’m pretty nervy 😵💫 but!!! I wrote this for the dear @tightjeansjavi and I decided I wanted to share it with the world. Likes and comments are appreciated 🥹🥹
Summary: Joel opens up to you about his pain after you’re injured.
Warnings: mentions of blood, sad!joel, mentions of death, angst, soft!joel
—————————-
The only sound heard was the crackle of the fire as Joel rewrapped the cut on your arm where you’d run into a glass door earlier in the day.
You hadn’t even realized you were bleeding until you reached for Ellie and found your hand covered in red. Joel had freaked, immediately rolling your soaked sleeve to reveal the moderately deep cut in your forearm. He sat you down and wrapped your arm as best as he could under the circumstances before the three of you continued forward to find shelter for the night.
Now, you sat beside the fire, watching joel as he cared for you. He hadn’t spoken a word since Ellie crawled into her sleeping bag and said goodnight, but you knew his mind was turning.
“Joel,” you started carefully.
He shook his head slightly. “Don’t.”
“Can’t help it. You’re thinking too loudly.” He chuckled dryly, which made you smile. “This wasn’t your fault y’know.”
“I should’ve clocked the clickers; you wouldn’t be hurt if I had.” He pulled away from you once the bandage was set, turning to face the fire.
“Hey,” you reached forward, resting your good arm on his shoulder. He didn’t shrug you off, a good sign. “I‘m okay. I’m not bit, it’s just a little cut.” When he didn’t respond, you leaned forward for his hand. “Joel, I’m right here. I’m okay.”
You knelt down beside him, searching his face for any signs of relief. You watched as he looked down at your entwined hands and squeezed yours gently.
“I’m not…good at this.” He paused, thinking. “I haven’t been good at this in a very long time.”
You nodded, brushing your lips against the back of his hand. “S’okay. I’m not expecting anything from you. Can I tell you something?”
“‘Course,” he offered.
“I was scared shitless back there. I still am. But you know what makes it better? You do. You protected me and Ellie, just like you do every god damn day. You can sit here and grumble about would’ve, could’ve, should’ve, but it doesn’t matter. You did it; you saved us. You’re the best fucking thing that has happened to me since this shit started twenty years ago.”
Joel ducked his head, attempting to hide his tears from you, but it was no use. You slid yourself into his lap, gently wiping away his tears with your thumbs.
“I-I’m so afraid of losing you, of losing Ellie,” he whispered, so quietly you almost couldn’t hear it over the sound of the fire. “Every time I close my eyes, it’s all I see. It…it changes every night too. Sometimes it’s infected, sometimes it’s a hunter.” He takes a deep breath, pausing. “O-one time it was me; I-I was the one who killed you. O-or I’m walking Ellie right into her death. I can’t escape it.”
You pulled his head against your chest when he finished, running a hand through his hair. “I wish I could take the dreams away. I’d sacrifice myself if I could.”
Joel sat up, eyes stern as he placed his hands on your shoulder, grip hard. “Don’t you dare say that.”
“It’s true. I’d sacrifice myself to take your pain away, Joel. Without a second thought.”
He shook his head, grip on you still tight. “I’d rather face every demon in my dreams if it meant I got to wake up to you every morning.”
You kissed him then, soft and languid. Joel kissed you back, moving his arms around your waist to hold you closer. Your hands gripped the collar of his jacket, tugging him against you.
When you finally pulled away, Joel followed your lips, stealing another kiss. “Will you come to bed with me,” he whispered.
“All you had to do was ask,” you smiled sweetly, removing yourself from his lap and standing. Joel didn’t let go of you as he stood and let you toward his sleeping bag a few feet away. You let him climb in first before you followed, resting your head on his chest.
Once you zipped the bag shut, Joel turned on his side, back facing you. In response, you wrapped your arm around his middle, placing a soft kiss between his shoulder blades. Joel hummed in response, which made you smile.
“Goodnight, Joel,” you whispered.
“Night,” he mumbled, sleep already calling to him.
893 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bath time
Daryl Dixon x reader
Daryl's early Alexandria era dislike for showers seems to be rubbing off on his kids..
🐺 🐺 🐺
"Oh my god.."
There in front of you stood your two adorable furred children, now entirely a muddy brown. And their father, less muddy brown but for sure in need of clean clothes.
"You." A stern finger pointed at Daryl. "Pups. Bathroom, now." You turned around to open doors and run the water in preperation. "And take your shoes off."
You heard Daryl kick his boots off and huff as he picked up the kids to carry them upstairs.
It wasn't difficult for them to realize where Daryl was taking then and started squirming in his grasp, trying with all their might to escape but in the end they failed and all four of you now stood in the large bathroom.
The shower was already running at a nice temperature to get the clumps of mud out of the kids' fur but it took both of your hands to keep one kid in place, let alone rinse them off and scrub their fur without having them jump out of the tub.
You needed Daryl's help. He was currently standing at the door, making sure no grubby paws grabbed at the handle and ran off, while said grubby hands were grabbing and pulling at his trousers in an attempt to escape.
"Dee, please be a dear and put her in the tub. I need help.." you admitted in defeat as Hunter slipped from your grasp and made it halfway out of the tub before Daryl's large hand had grabbed him and put him back under the shower stream together with his sister.
"Mmaaaaammm..." loud whines filled the room as they both fiercly protested.
Daryl held both pups far enough under the stream so you could rub at the clumps of mud slowly washing away.
Hunter seemed to have given up halfway through so cleaning him wasn't too much of a fuss, until the shampoo came out.
At the sight of the bottle of doggy wash he wormed out of Daryl's grip, who was more focused on keeping the ever feisty Rose under control with just one hand.
Hunter managed to hop up and out of the tub and slip on the edge, dropping his full, soaking wet body onto yours with a loud flop and sending you both to the ground.
"Ohw, come on!" You groaned as you grabbed at his slippery limbs and get yourself upright at the same time, while Daryl watched you with a shit eating grin on his face. "Looks like the lil' momma's boy weren' havin' it no more."
"Could have helped.." you mumbled as you sat your son back into the tub and shuddered at the gross wet shirt stuck to your skin.
When you got no response you looked over to him. Both his hands were on Rose, but he paid no attention to her chewing on his wrist and instead was clearly distracted by the fact you wore nothing underneath the thin, currently very see-through shirt.
"Hello? Assistance?" Struggling to keep Hunter in the tub you snapped Daryl out of his trance before he reached out to hold his son in place again.
A soft thanks was all he got before you got to rub the shampoo through Hunter's fur, making sure none got in his face. It was a huge struggle already with his paws shoving away your hands and his constant shaking, sending soapy water everywhere to the point of even getting Daryl to complain.
"Ya can't wash'em any quicker?"
Your head snapped to his side giving him a death glare before going back to make sure every inch of your son was covered in soapy bubbles and rinse him off again. "In case you forgo-- oh my god.." you spit out the soapy water that got info your mouth as Hunter shook out his fur again while still under the stream. "In case you forgot, I don't have wolf strength." You struggled to put Hunter back on his butt so you could properly rub the remaining shampoo from his fur. Maybe you overdid it a little, but he was so dirty..
"Wha? Ya can't even handle a kid?" A deep sigh left you before repeating yourself.
"No, Daryl." You state clearly. "Little human me can't handle a werewolf child with werewolf strength. Especially not when they're slippery and wet." An understanding grumble left him as he held onto Hunter's fur a bit tighter to keep him still.
His whines of protest only got more over time as Rose was still gnawing at Daryl's wrist that had bled and healed over a couple of times by now already.
Hunter's long drawn Nooo's and Mammaaa's combined with fake sniffles made an almost believable schtick if he hadn't pulled it so many times before.
"You're almost done, sit still for a minute and I'll let you out."
When he realized his tricks werent working he sulked under the water as you got rid of the last bits of soap bafore moving him out from underneath the stream.
The second he stopped feeling water on his head he full-body shook himself out, sending water all over the place.
"Oh thats just rude, baby." The towel you readied for him first went to your face to dry off before grabbing onto Hunter and wrapping him in a tight hug. It was the only way to get him out of the tub and dry him off at least a little bit.
Now that he was out of the tub and no longer a muddy threat you moved on to clean the more feral of your two children.
Daryl luckily had already moved her under the water entirely to remove large clumps while you prepared for shampooing.
With two hands holding her you were a little more confident in a quicker wash this time but wow were you wrong.
Within the first minute she had snapped at you twice.
Daryl only stared proudly at his daughter currently defending herself against the evil soap monster that was her mom. He cooed her a bit, hoping to bargain with some tasty meat as reward she'd be at least a little more calm.
But of course just as you were somewhat comfortable washing off her legs, Hunter threw his full weight into you to dry himself against your back and so shoving you forward enough to get your entire head under the water, soaking your hair.
You pushed back to sit on your heels again, throwing your head back to get your wet hair out of your face before sending an angry glare at your son out of reflex.
He quickly realized he was in the wrong and ran off, grabbing at the doorhandle and escaping the bathroom.
"Fuck.." you groaned as you turned back to cleaning off Rose, who had picked up her brother's moves and let out a laugh as she shook herself out every time your hands left her body.
"I'm taking a shower after this. You babysit and give them a treat or something."
With newly found strength you pulled through and got Rose cleaned in record time, letting Daryl handle the drying while you took off your soaked clothes and hopped into the tub.
You felt Daryl's gaze on you the entire time, complaining as Rose bit his finger when he wasn't watching her.
"Watch your kid." You pointed at her as you stepped over the tub's edge. "You can gawk at me all night long when they're asleep."
An agreeing tone sounded over the running water and a few moments later you finally got the bathroom to yourself, warming up and rinsing the shower walls off in the meantime.
It was times like these when you doubted yourself a bit, being a human raising two pups that could easily overpower you within the year. What if Rose bit you for real? Would she turn you? Can they do that at their age? The bathroom door opening caught you off guard, peeking tour head from behind the curtain you spotted Daryl standing there in clean clothes and with a worried look on his face.
He stepped up to the tub and questioned the sad emotions he was smelling all over the top floor.
You gave him a short version of your doubts as he helped you out of the shower and dried you off. "Yer a strong one, pups love ya." His hands on the towel lingered on your chest longer than needed when he leaned in for a kiss. "They jus' hate showers."
You huff out a laugh at that understatement when the door slammed against the wall and a still slightly damp Hunter clamped around your leg. "Wav momma."
"See?" Daryl gave you a smug 'told ya so' smile.
He easily wrapped you in the large towel and picked you up, careful to not smack Hunter with your foot.
Rose waddled past just as he walked through the doorway. She probably followed her big brother but her wobbly legs made climbing the stairs quite the challenge.
Once in the bedroom you were tossed onto the bed and clothes quickly followed as Daryl dug through the cabinet and threw a full outfit at your head.
You thanked him and got dressed, watching your kids try wrestle eachother to be the first one on the bed until Daryl picked them up and set them down onto the matress.
Without a second to spare the two jumped up against you for cuddles, their dad happily joining as well.
🐺 🐺 🐺
A/N: I hope you're not tired of kid content yet! I love the pups dearly and hope to be writing for them for a while longer ♡
#sometimes i write#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon imagine#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon x you#twd#the walking dead#twd x reader#twd imagine#the walking dead x reader#twd daryl#twd au#werewolf#werewolves#the werepups tag
231 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi this is my first time but here’s the question how would ror Hermes react to walking in on a female reader wearing his favorite color or clothes smut if u can but fluffy is fine to
Love your work by the way keep it up 💖
aww thank you so much😭🧡 hope you like it!
Hermes headcanons: finding you with his clothes!
🥀Probably, it all happened during a winter morning. North wind blew outside the temple, even if the room you were in was sheltered and comfortable; Hermes had been careful about this detail, wanting to keep you warm and safe. His favorite priestess had to have all the comforts possible...
🥀But sometimes, a draft of air still managed to get through. At the slightest skin crawl, you didn't think twice about reaching out for your master's elegant coat. The fabric was really cold at first, but it started to warm you up little by little, hugging your curves. And while you're at it, why not get his gloves too?
🥀When Hermes returns to the room, seeing his clothes on you, a small grin spreads across his face. There's a different light in his crimson eyes, which are looking at you hungrily, a small tick of his finger was only the first sign of an instinct he tried to hold back, which later proved useless.
🥀The way your lips left warm puffs of breath on your hands for warmth, touching the velvet gloves, sent his imagination soaring, imagining them in other contexts. He could already feel those soft plump lips of yours sliding along his body, your sighs touching his groin...
🥀"My dear, let me warm you up a bit..." he speaks slowly, pronouncing the words and approaching slowly, like a hunter aiming at his prey, but being careful not to make noise to scare it. Hermes doesn't dare take his clothes off you, he has to watch you wallow in his smell.
🥀"Yes, baby...good job, just like that..." he will whisper in your hear, as one of your gloved hand wraps around his hardened cock, while the other has its fingers in your core. His hips moves to meet your movements, but don't even think about feeling Hermes inside: you still took god's clothes without permission, your walls wrapping around nothing will be your punishment.
#record of ragnarok#ror x reader#request#ror x you#snv x reader#snv x you#shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader#shuumatsu no valkyrie#ror hermes#snv hermes#record of ragnarok hermes#hermes x reader
179 notes
·
View notes
Text
Death Confessions
Dean Winchester x Reader
Warnings: mutual pining, soft Dean, language, mentions of smut, mentions of death
Summary: the boys and you are on a hunt only things don't go according to plan...
---------------------------------------
You hate witches. Can't stand the miserable pricks.
Tonight, you and the boys had finally tracked down the local witch in town. Or should you say witches. Plural. And oh yeah, ex lovers as well.
The pair had decided to wage an all out war on one another and didn't seem to care that innocent people were getting hurt in the cross fire.
At some point during the battle, you were struck with a spell. You didn't think anything of it because nothing happened. The boys killed the pair while you were recovering from the blow and you got the hell out of town.
It's been 3 hours into your drive and you aren't feeling so hot anymore.
What the fuck did they do to you.
You're shivering but hot to the touch. Your stomach is in knots. And every time the oldest Winchester looks at you in the rear view mirror, you feel your underwear dampen.
Sam's asleep in the front seat and Dean is humming along with ACDC as he drives you all back to the bunker.
You don't want to panic anyone so you decide to wait it out. Rowena and Crowley are there currently and you're sure she will know what to do.
-------------------------------------------------------
Another 3 hours and the impala is pulling into the underground garage the bunker has. You've managed to pretend as if your sleeping to keep the boys from worrying.
Sam turns around to wake you when he notices somethings wrong.
Very wrong.
You're covered in a thin layer of sweat. You're burning hot to touch. Your body is shaking uncontrollably, and you can barely keep your eyes open.
"Dean, something is wrong with y/n." Sam yells at his brother, who is unloading your crap from the trunk.
Dean comes running around to your door and opens it, almost ripping it off its hinges. Seeing you in this state makes his blood boil with concern and a protectivness. Reaching in he gentle cradles you to his chest and with Sam's help gets you into the bunker.
Dean's gruff voice breaks through the fog in your mind. His strong arms feel like bliss as he hold you close. His aftershave surrounds you, making your mouth water. A small moan slips from your lips as you feel your walls clench around nothing.
"Sammy go get Rowena. Tell her y/n was hit by one of the witches. I'm taking her to my room."
You vaguely feel him place you in his bed and cover you in his blankets. His scent is all around you and it's clouding your mind with nasty thoughts about the green eyed hunter.
You've always had a crush on Dean. He's charming, built like a damn model, and treats you as if you're the most precious thing on this earth.
Sadly, the womanizing Winchester has never looked at you more than a best friend. You hang, watch movies together, train once in a while, and he cooks you amazing meals. Nothing more than friends, and you're okay with that.
Better than nothing.
Whatever they hit you with is bringing out your desire for Dean. The same desire you buried deep down and try to avoid at all costs.
Another moan slips out as you feel slick running down your thigh.
Fuck this is embarrassing.
Just then, Sam returns with Rowena in tow. Thank God. Please make it go away. He can't find out like this.
"Oh dear. Sweetie what are you feeling?" Out of all the witches you've developed a soft spot for the red head in front of you. Sure she always has an end game that benefits her, but the woman is strong and resilient. You've got to respect that.
"Cold and uncomfortable." You don't know how else to describe it without completely embarrassing yourself.
Rowena exams you. You see when she clues in. The knowing smirk on her face.
"Well the good news is she will be fine. However," she looks over at the boys then, "someone will have to stay with her tonight and help her work it out of her system."
Dean and Sam share a confused look before Sam speaks up, "what?"
"It's simple. For whatever reason the witch cast a fuck or die spell. I'm sure y/n here wasn't their target but either way she needs to fuck it from her system or she will die in 24 hours."
Your eyes go wide as you listen, "I'm sorry, what?!?"
"It's the only way Dear."
"No. There has to be something else you can do Rowena. Anything else." You were too busy freaking out to catch the look of disappointment the crossed Dean's face. However, Sam wasn't. Even though the oldest Winchester never admitted it out loud, Sam knew how his brother felt about you.
"Y/N it's okay. Dean can stay with you and help you any way you allow." The younger brother said before he motioned for Rowena to follow him out of Dean's room. Leaving you and the green eyed hunter alone.
--------------‐-------------------------------------------------------
"Y/N let me help you." At this point the spell has gotten so bad you won't allow Dean to touch you. Which is of course frustrating the living hell out of him.
"No, Dean its okay."
"The fuck it is. You're dying and I can help. Why won't you let me?"
"It's too much to ask from you. We're friends Dean but even friends have limits."
"If it saves you I'm willing to do anything!" He's temper has taken over. Not understanding why you won't let him save you.
What the hell, you're dying anyway.
"Are you serious Dean!" You're outburst shocks him. He goes to speak but you cut him off.
"No Winchester, shut up and listen. For three years I've watched you take home girl after girl. For three years I've sat at that table or in your Baby and listened as you told us everything you did with them the night before. Not once complaining. Not once telling you how jealous I fucking was. I'm not your type and I get it. But don't think for one minute I will throw away the closet thing I'll ever have with you just to save my life." You point your finger in his direction as you continue.
"I fucking love you dumbass. I've been waiting, hoping you'd see me more as what we are. Hoping you'd get your head out of your ass and see that I'm the perfect girl for you. I'm a freaking hunter. I know the life and the risks. But no, instead you waltz every bimbo you can in front of me like some prized fucking pig."
Before you can continue chewing him a new asshole Dean pounces on you. Strong finger tangle in your hair and his soft lips dominate yours. The surprise subsides and you begin to kiss him back.
"You done yelling at me sweetheart? Cause I got something to say. I've loved your snarky ass since the moment you told me to blow you three years ago when we crossed paths on the vampire hunt. I love everything about you and I only ever got with those women because I knew you could do better than me. I'm not worth the pain y/n, but God dammit if you feel the same than why not try. "
He pushes his large erection into your wet core. You can't help but moan at the feeling. Dean smirks down at you.
"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to fuck you good and hard for as long as we need to so we can save your life. Then I'm going to make you breakfast before I spend the day worshiping this beauty body how I should. You okay with that princess?"
"Don't call me princess."
"Shut up and kiss me woman."
And kiss you did. Every part of your body as he did exactly as he promised. Fucking you in every position. When he's big, fat cock needed a break he was making you cum with his tongue or fingers. Over and over again until your body began to go back to normal and fatigue set in.
When you woke in his warm, safe arms you found Dean staring at you. You've never seen his eyes shine so bright.
"Feeling better?"
"Yeah I am. Thank you." You lean up and kiss him.
"Let's get you some food." He jumps out of bed and walks to his dresser, finding you one of his shirts. You through it on before you walk out of his room hand in hand.
Sam is already sitting at the table when you walk in together. He looks up from his tablet and just smiles.
"Shut up Sammy." Dean barks as he swats your ass and begins to get the ingredients for breakfast.
"I'm just happy Dean. You got your girl and we didn't lose y/n."
Dean looks over at you and smiles. Fuck you love that man.
-------------------------------------------------------
Taglist:
@syrma-sensei @yvonneeeee @nancymcl @foxyjwls007 @lessons-of-red @senjoritanana @leigh70 @tristanrosspada-ackles @maggiegirl17 @neii3n
#jensen ackles#dean girl#dean winchester#supernatural#spn fanfic#dean x you#deanwinchtser#dean winchester fic#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x original female character#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x y/n#dean winchester smut
455 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
bombthistrack-blog
music and challanges
thighreligion
Thigh Religion
bowtomyhappyomens
Meme Distribution Co.
johnrodela19
JohnGoesHam
vincekris
AbsolutionV