#the shirt. the wings. the hips. the cigarette.
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A Baker's Dozen - Six
Twelve Pedro boys, twelve stand alone short stories, all set in the same bakery.
Hello!
I can't believe it's already the halfway point for A Baker's Dozen, Pedro boy number six is waiting in the wings. But before I let him in I just want to say a massive thank you for all the love all you lovely people gave Ezra. It was a bit sadder than others but there always a chance of him re-appearing...
I'm dropping chapter today seeing as tomorrow is New Year's Eve, from next week I'll be back on my regular Sunday evening posting.
Also, don't miss all the #pickledpena fics that'll be posting on January 1st! And follow @pickled-pena to see them all in their pickled Peña glory.
Happy 2024 all you lovely people!
Series Master List
He puts out the cigarette just before he steps through your door on a quiet afternoon. You’re busy placing some fresh coffee cake in the display case and he’s the only customer in the shop. Crouched down, almost out of sight, it gives you a few seconds to observe him as he looks around the shop. He’s handsome, dangerously handsome, and holds himself with a nonchalant air of confidence that makes you think he’s aware of how good he looks. No man would wear jeans that tight if he didn’t know his body could pull it off, his generous package clearly framed by the crotch of the dark wash denim. A black, short sleeved, shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, one too many buttons undone, yellow aviators nonchalantly hanging from the neckline. And as you drag your eyes away from the freckles of his chest and up to his face, you’re met by his dark eyes, an almost scowl marring his handsome features as he locks eyes with you.
You stand up, placing the now empty tray on the counter and put your customer service smile on, squashing a nervous squeal in your belly.
“Hi, welcome, how can I help you?” you say, wiping your hands on your apron as the man approaches.
“I’m lookin’ for a bakery that does Mexican things, I need a Tres Leches cake,” he says, his eyes leaving yours and scanning the shelves of your display case as you shake your head. His Texas drawl is subtle but the low register of his rich voice emphasizes it and sends a little shiver down your spine.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any for sale today, but I can make one for you, if you’d like to order?” you reply and you’re surprised when his face seems to fall and he sighs deeply, annoyance rolling off him like the warm scent of his aftershave.
“Do you know any Mexican bakeries in town?” he asks, “I’m sure yours is good, but I really need the cake today.” He puts his hands on his hips and you’re momentarily distracted by the way his shirt stretches, the buttons hanging on for dear life as his wide shoulders spread even more.
“Sorry,” you reply, “there’s not exactly a big Mexican community in this town, so no bakeries that do Tres Leches regularly. Maybe you can find another cake that will suit the occasion?”
The man drops his head, briefly looking at the toes of his dress shoes before he meets your eyes again, his brow furrowed.
“It’s got to be a Tres Leches, sorry.”
“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you,” you say, shrugging and expecting him to turn around and leave. But instead he remains in front of the counter, looking at you as you start straightening the cups on the counter, just to have something to do, the man’s intense gaze is unnerving.
“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath, sharp enough for you to startle, and his eyebrows shoot up, “Sorry, that wasn’t at you. And thanks anyway.”
He turns and yanks open the front door, exiting out onto the street where he stops, looking left and right before glancing back at you through the window. He locks eyes with you for a beat, and then he stalks off, long legs in tight jeans disappearing down the street.
He stays on your mind for the rest of the afternoon, not because of the need for a specific cake, but because of the way he’d reacted to being denied it, disappointment that seemed to hit something more than just missing out on what, you supposed, was a special request from someone close to him. Women, especially brides-to-be, could be very emotional and stressed about the specifics of their cakes, but you’d never heard a man curse when he couldn’t get the cake he wanted. You wonder if you should maybe make a Tres Leches cake, just in case he comes back, but decide against it. There are plenty of bakeries in town capable of making them instead of you, he’s probably not even coming back to your bakery anyway.
By the next day you’ve forgotten about him, the day running past fast as your shop assistant handles the steady flow of customers that Saturday’s always bring. You’re busy in the kitchen baking the last batches for Sunday and planning the week ahead, getting your orders in. As a spur of the moment decision, you add a couple of cans of evaporated milk and condensed milk, the Tres Leches man popping up in your mind as you scroll through the whole seller's website. .
On late Sunday afternoon you start cleaning the shop and the kitchen, the foot traffic always dies down the last hour before closing on Sundays and you send your shop assistant home.You use the last hour to reset everything for Tuesday, Monday being your day off.
The sound of the bell on the front door rings as you’re on your hands and knees in the kitchen, wiping out the back of a counter under your workbench.
“I’ll be out in a second,” you call out to the customer.
“No rush,” a dark voice comes back to you, the Texan lilt familiar. You stand up so fast you almost bang your head on the bottom of the shelf, stumbling to your feet and smoothing down your apron and your hair. There’s a small mirror on the wall just by the door into the shop, so you give yourself a quick glance, hastily wiping the sweat off your forehead and rubbing away a dusting of flour on your cheek.
“Hi,” you say as you step into the shop, “how can I help you? I’m afraid I still don’t have any Tres Leches cake.”
The handsome man is still wearing jeans so tight they look painted on, but this time they’re a light wash denim and his short sleeved shirt is white, the yellow aviators hanging even lower in the deep V of his chest.
“I wanted to apologize for that,” he says, stepping up to the counter, “And I’d like to order one, if that’s alright?”
“Sure, that’s fine, I’m closed tomorrow but I could have it for you by Tuesday afternoon if that works?”
“Whatever suits you,” he replies, some of his earlier confidence coming back as he not too subtly lets his eyes give you a once over. “I’m sure it’s worth waiting for.”
“Didn’t seem like it on Friday,” you say, biting your tongue as the words slip out. The man gives you an unreadable look, you’re not sure if he's insulted or not.
“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, “that was uncalled for, I’m sure you had stuff going on that made the cake an essential part of your Friday.
“No, I apologize, I was rude,” he replies, shaking his head, “I was just having a bad day, I…” he trails off, rubbing a large hand over his clean shaven cheeks under his neat mustache, dropping his eyes to the floor before he looks up at you, his eyes suddenly doleful and tired, “I’ve just been a bit homesick lately, and Tres Leches was my mom’s favorite cake, and mine too, she used to make it for my birthday. She passed a few years ago and I just wanted to be reminded of her.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’d be very happy to make you one, but it probably won’t be as good as your mom’s.”
“I look forward to trying it though,” he gives you a crooked smile, “All your stuff here looks delicious.” He waves his hand over the display case but he’s looking at you and your apron suddenly feels very warm around your body.
“S-so Tuesday afternoon works for you?” you ask, clearing your throat and the man nods with a smile, like he knows the effects his looks, and his tight jeans, are having on you.
“What name should I put on the order form?” you ask as you grab a pen to fill it in.
“Javier Peña,” the man replies, stepping forward and leaning on his forearms on the counter, watching you note down his name, “I think you should write down my number too,” he says, looking up at you, “just in case you need to call me, for whatever reason.”
The image of a baby cow looking up at you through thick lashes flits across your mind as he smiles, his eyes are deep brown and suddenly very innocent looking despite the very suggestive tone of his voice.
“Oh you’re good,” you chuckle, letting him take the pen and jot down his number, “Do you really want the cake, or are you just flirting?”
“Can’t I do both, cariño?” he grins, pushing off from the counter and winking at you as he comes to his full height, making you look up at him again.
“Sure, but you’re only getting the cake,” you smile back at him and now it’s his turn to chuckle, a dimple on his cheek as he regards you with a playful look.
“I’ll be happy with just the cake, but I’ll keep hoping,” he replies, still grinning as he pats down his jeans, pulling out his wallet from his back pocket, “What do I owe you?”
“Pay on delivery,” you say and he arches one of his eyebrows with a cheeky smirk.
“So that’s how I get you to use my number, will you chase me down if I don’t turn up on Tuesday?”
“Something tells me you’re used to women chasing you down,” you say, trying to keep your heartbeat under control as he cocks his head, another arched eyebrow, “so I should probably just play it cool and count on your turning up for the cake.”
“When do you close up on Tuesday?” he asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up, as he puts away his wallet.
“Seven, but the cake will be done before then,” you reply and he nods.
“I’ll be here before seven,” he says, “you can count on it, cariño.” He winks at you again and you curse the butterflies that immediately take flight in your belly.
He gives you a wave as he takes a nonchalant step back towards the door before turning, his tight jeans giving you a perfect view of his tiny butt, you’ve really never seen any guy wear jeans that tight and you can’t help but let your eyes linger.
‘Really…’ you think to yourself, ‘how does he even walk down the stairs in those jeans?’
A Tres Leches gets better the longer it can sit in the fridge and absorb all the liquid that’s poured over it, so you get started as soon as Javier leaves. By the time you’ve cleaned up the kitchen and done your usual Sunday night prep, the sponge cake is cooling on the counter.
Ordinarily you wouldn’t come in on your day off but the Tres Leches needs three types of milk poured over it, so at lunchtime on Monday you stick your key in the lock and turn off the alarm to the shop.
“Hey, I thought you weren’t open today?” a deep voice says behind your back just as you punch in the code.
“Oh shit!” you shriek and spin around, your hand on your heart, as Javier’s hands come out to steady you.
“So jumpy, cariño,” he chuckles, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You’re sneaky, jeez,” you gasp, hitting the off button on the alarm that’s still beeping, “please, give a girl a warning before you jump out like that.”
He follows you into the shop, apologizing again as you flick the lights on.
“I’m sorry, I was just on my way to grab some lunch and I saw you open up the shop, I wanted to say hi and thank you for making the cake,” he smiles and you feel his hand come out and gently brush over the small of your back as you walk past him into the kitchen. The warmth of his hand makes you stutter, trying to keep your cool at his proximity.
“T-that’s fine, but the cake isn’t done yet,” you say, “and the shop isn’t open, I’m just here to pour the milk mixture on it.”
“You should’ve told me to pick it up on Wednesday instead, I don’t want to make you work on your day off,” Javier says, leaning against the door frame of the kitchen as you open the fridge and take out the cake.
“It’s fine, this is quick, I’ll be done in ten minutes, then I’m leaving again,” you say as he watches you with those dark eyes, they follow you around the kitchen as you take out a pan and the three types of milk needed.
“You have plans for the afternoon?” he asks, crossing his arms and the blue shirt stretches tight across his shoulders. You can’t help but glance at the way it hugs his biceps and he notices, his body settling into the pose a little bit more, thick fingers drumming against the taught fabric over his arm as he smiles at you.
“Yeah, I have a date at the fair,” you say, pouring the milk into the pan and turning on the heat, from the corner of your eye you see him shift and straighten up a little.
“A date huh…” he says, “Your boyfriend?”
“No, just a blind date, a friend set us up,” you reply, stirring the condensed milk into the regular milk.
“Ok, I hope you have a nice time then,” Javier says, his brow furrowed, standing up and thumping his fist lightly on the doorframe, hesitating for a few seconds, “I’ll come by for the cake tomorrow, have a nice afternoon.”
He abruptly turns and you hear his footsteps retreat through the shop before you have a chance to say goodbye, leaving you surprised at his sudden departure. After finishing the cake and cleaning up the kitchen again, you leave the shop and lock up. Javier’s sudden departure still seems strange to you, you don’t know him at all, but he’d suddenly seemed offended by your date, even jealous. He’s a flirt, and you couldn’t help flirting back a little, but you really don’t think he’d be jealous of your blind date. Would he be?
The next day you’re not sure if he’ll come for his cake after all, but you are hoping he will. The blind date had been a miserable affair and you bowed out after suffering through a painful hour of stilted small talk about small business taxes. Javier’s crooked grin and tight jeans had been on your mind throughout the afternoon as your date droned on..
Towards the end of the day you take the cake out and cover it in whipped cream and decorate it with fresh strawberries. And thankfully, a few minutes before seven the doorbell jangles and you look up to see Javier walk through the door, giving your heart a little jolt of excitement. But although he’s not exactly scowling, the yellow aviators cover his eyes and the corners of his mouth are downturned under the edges of his neat mustache. It’s a stark contrast to the bright pink shirt he’s wearing today, the color clashing with the apparent mood he’s in.
“Hi Javier,” you say, giving him what you hope is your flirtiest look, wanting to coax him back to the flirtiness he’d displayed on previous visits, “I guess I won’t need your number after all,” you say, giving him a sweet smile as you watch his lips quirk up in response.
“Maybe you should hang on to it, in case that new boyfriend doesn’t work out,” he smirks, coming up to the counter and leaning on the display case, long legs in tight jeans casually crossed as he gives you an appreciative glance up and down. You’d removed your apron a little bit earlier, changed into a nicer top, fixed your hair, only stopping yourself as you considered adding lipstick.
“No, that was a bad date,” you scrunch up your nose at him, “I had to make up an excuse after an hour.”
“Too bad,” he says but his crooked grin leaves you in no doubt about the fact that he’s very much not sorry about the failed date, “You should’ve let me take you out instead, I would’ve made sure you didn’t need any excuse to leave.” He gives you a quick wink, taking off his aviators, and you feel your cheeks heat up as he smirks and swipes a thumb over his bottom lip.
“About that cake, querida?”
The casual pet name ramps up the heat in your cheeks another notch and you’re grateful for the chance to turn around and head for the kitchen.
“Yeah, sure, let me get it,” you throw over your shoulder and yank the fridge door open, carefully sliding the cake box out.
“Here, I boxed it for you, but have a look, make sure it’s what you wanted,” you say, putting the box in front of him as you get back to the counter
“I’m sure it’s perfect,” he replies, but he still slips the paper lip from its hold and flips up the lid. He looks down at it for a beat and the casual confidence slips from his face, replaced by something you can’t place, almost as if he suddenly disappears from the shop, finding himself in another setting, looking at another cake.
“Is…is it as you expected?” you ask timidly when he doesn’t move, his eyes still on the cake, and he blinks and looks up at you, his eyes soft and warm.
“It’s perfect, just perfect, thank you,” he replies, his tone suddenly sincere and raw in a way you didn’t expect, it’s just a cake. But he looks down at the cake again and there’s a play of emotions across his face, as if the thoughts in his head are dancing across his features in the space of a few heart beats. You let him have his moment and carefully start tidying up the counter around the till and turn to start cleaning the espresso machine when he clears his throat.
“This is…uhmm…” he trails off and you look back at him, he’s still got his eyes on the cake but as he rubs a large hand over his jaw he looks up at you, “Do you wanna have a coffee with me? And some cake?”
“You wanna cut the cake now?” you ask surprised, you thought it was for a special occasion but he nods.
“Yeah, as a thank you for going out of your way to make it, coming in on your day off and everything,” he gives you a nod towards the coffee machine and grabs a couple of plates from the counter, “Although I should really be serving you but that coffee machine looks pretty advanced.”
“I’d love to have coffee and cake with you, Javier. But are you sure you want to cut it now? I thought it was for something special?”
“It was, or it is,” he says, coming round the counter with the cake and putting it next to you. “My mom used to make it for me and on Friday it was ten years ago since she passed….”
He pauses and adjusts the cake with one hand, the other hooked into the pocket of his jeans, fingers drumming against his leg as you wait for him to continue.
“I was feelin’ kinda homesick, wanted something to remind me of her,” he clears his throat, looking up at you again as you put down the cloth you’ve been wiping the machine with. His mood on Friday makes sense now, but you never would’ve you have guessed the reason behind it, and you push down the urge to put your hand on his arm. But he seems to shake out of his reverie and he gives you a crooked smile.
“So how about that coffee, cariño?”
“Sure,” you smile back at him and you see his eyes soften again, “How do you take it?”
“Strong and black,” he replies, “Show me where you keep the knives and I’ll get us some cake, at least I can serve you that.”
You show him and he gives a low hum when he slides the first slice onto a plate, “It smells just like I remember.”
“Good, I hope the taste reminds you of her too,” you smile. It feels like he’s a different person now, still confident and flirty, and dangerously handsome, but you’re seeing a more human side, something underneath his winks and smirks as you watch him expertly wipe the knife and cut another clean edged slice and slide it onto the plate.
“If you ever need a part time job, let me know, with those cake skills I’d let you serve my customers,” you remark, jumping up onto the counter next to where Javier’s standing.
He snorts at your comment, picking up one of the plates and hands it to you, “Trust me, cariño, you don’t want me anywhere near your customers.”
“No, true, those tight jeans might be a bit distracting for female guests,” you say, “I’d never get anything sold.”
You bite your tongue, trying to stop your giggle, as you see his eyes widen, the spoon hoovering in the air over his cake slice as he tries to process your words.
“Really, cariño,” he says eventually, shaking his head as he pushes the spoon into the cake, “I didn’t think you minded them, considering the way you’ve been staring at my ass,” he gives you a wink as he puts the spoon in his mouth.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, I know how distracting they are,” you laugh, “It’s a good thing you left yesterday, I would’ve messed up the cake if you’d kept hanging around my kitchen in those jeans.”
Javier hums, distracted by the cake as he looks down on it, waving his spoon at it as he chews and swallows.
“This is delicious, cariño, just as good as my moms, it tastes just like hers.”
“Thanks, that’s the best compliment I could get,” you smile at him, taking a mouthful of the cake for yourself as Javier reaches for the cup of coffee you’ve placed next to him.
“Mhm…” he grunts, “strong coffee and Tres Leches, best thing I’ve had in a long time, hermosa.”
He smiles at you over the edge of the cup, his chocolate brown eyes making you feel flustered as he keeps eye contact when he’s put the cup down.
“Relly, the best I’ve had in a very long time…” he says, “and the best company I’ve had in a long time too. Tell me, would I really distract you that much in the kitchen?” He takes another spoonful of cake and keeps his eyes on you, staring you down as he cocks his hip and leans on the counter, suddenly very close, making your nerves thrum just under your skin. You can smell the cake on his breath, the coffee from the cup on the counter and his faded aftershave, still lingering on the collar of his pink shirt.
“You…I-I think you know what you do with those tight jeans, Javier,” you reply and his lips quirk up in response, the corner of his mustache twitching as his eyes move down to your lips and linger there.
“Why don’t you tell me, cariño?” he smirks, “What do my tight jeans do?”
You almost roll your eyes at him, the confidence is oozing off him but you can’t deny that he can back it up as he parts his soft looking lips and moves around your legs, stepping in between them, trapping you up on the counter. Your breath hitches as he looks up at you again, his eyes leaving your lips as the tip of his tongue comes out and lightly wets his own.
Quietly inhaling, you decide attack is the best tactic, and reach out, putting your hand around the back of Javier’s head.
“Are you going to talk about your jeans or kiss me, Javier?” you ask, and you just have time to see the glint in his eyes, before he leans forward.
His hand comes up and grabs your jaw, cupping your cheek as his thumb moves across your lips, holding it for a beat before he’s on you. His lips are as soft as they look, molding to your mouth, gently probing to let him in. Your hand tangles into the thick hair at the back of his head, holding on as he pushes forward, widening your legs around his hips, pressed against the cupboard. With a low moan you part your lips to his tongue and he responds, a groan, as he wraps his free arm around your waist, his hand finding your hip and pulling you towards him. The jeans do nothing to hide his growing arousal as you slide right up against his crotch, his kisses are soft but the way he holds you tight, is heated.
You hook your hand into his belt loop and tug him closer, feeling him roll his hips against you as the taste of the cake and his strong coffee overpowers your senses, his tongue sliding around yours. He’s exploring, his large hand sliding over your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb caressing your skin and finding spots that make you moan and tremble under his touch. It doesn’t take him long to figure out that a gentle nip on your lower lip makes you arch your back and press into him. He makes the most of it as his hand slides up to splay flat over your shoulder blades, holding you close as he continues to explore your mouth..
Heat is making your core ache, he’s hard against you, the texture of the denim rubbing against you with each lazy roll of his hips and you have to pant into his mouth, pulling back from him to catch your breath.
Javier kisses the corner of your mouth as you tip your head back with a groan, drawing a deep breath, and then moves over your jaw, his teeth scraping over your skin, his tongue coming out to taste and lick as he trails kisses down to your neck. When he sinks his teeth into the flesh just under your ear you whimper and grip hard at his hair, hearing him groan against you. He places a wet kiss on the mark his teeth have left and straightens up, looking down at you with half closed eyes.
“I fucking hated that blind date guy,” Javier growls, still standing close enough for you to feel every twitch of his hard length between your legs, “I should’ve told you to ditch him and asked you to come out with me instead.”
“I would’ve ditched him, Javier,” you reply, letting your fingers trail over his five o’clock shadow and brush the edge of his mustache.
“So let me take you out tonight instead, finish what we started, cariño.”
His hands are distracting, one rubbing firm circles over your back, down to your hips, kneading the soft flesh. The other one still on your neck, caressing your cheek, your hair, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips as he keeps his eyes locked on yours.
“I have to get up at three am, Javier,” you whisper, his lips finding yours again and you lose your train of thought.
“Rain check,” he mumbles against your mouth, “What are you doing on Sunday night? You don’t work on Mondays.”
“There’s this guy,” you reply, smiling as he pulls back a fraction to look down at you, one eyebrow raised, “He wears these really tight jeans and I think I should find out if he’s got the goods to back them up”.
“Oh he does,” Javier growls, tugging you closer and making you open your mouth to his eager tongue, pulling a breathless moan from you as he wraps his arms around you again.
Part Seven
Tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3 @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @vabeachazn
#javier pena#javier peña#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfiction#javier pena fluff#javier pena fic#javier pena x reader
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just- eddie with a badass, metal reader? and he’s too nervous to talk to her, hes almost intimidated, but then she goes up to him and confronts him abt his stares??? i’m done for.
do you wanna touch me
pairing eddie munson x fem!reader
summary reader is the girl of eddie's dreams and he can't help but stare at her any and every chance he got. he never expected her to call him out in front of his friends
note i am a firm believer in eddie being a total perv lol also abrupt ending sorry i like to tease :p
Eddie was a creep, he knew it. He literally could not help but drool over the girl in his math class, Y/N was like his hottest wet dream. She was always sporting shirts from his favorite bands, her hair always dyed unnatural colors and sometimes if he was lucky she wore a skirt, showing off a huge dnd dragon tattoo on her thigh. When that happened Eddie always had to pick his jaw up off the floor and excuse himself to the bathroom.
Eddie found himself more often than not rubbing one out at the thought of her plush thighs around his neck and his face buried in her pussy, or her tits squished up against his cock with her tonuge gingerly licking the tip -- the latter being his favorite.
One time he had to run to the bathroom to jerk off after math class when she wore one of those devilish skirts and moved her legs, causing Eddie to catch a glimpse of her panties. It was not his proudest moment.
Even Gareth had mentioned that Eddie was obsessed and that if he had the balls he should just go up and talk to her, but as funny as it was to everyone else, Eddie was intimidated. He had never met a girl who liked heavy metal and had tattoos of DND dragons, plus she was drop dead gorgeous.
Thank god for the weekend though. It was the only time he got a break from Y/N and her unknowing curse on him.
He had no intention of swimming, just soaking up the sun with a cigarette and maybe checking out the mom's in bikinis until he saw Y/N across the pool. He felt as if the breath had been knocked out of him. "Jesus Christ." He muttered when he was able to breathe again.
Eddie had picked up Gareth, Jeff and Dustin for a day at the pool -- solely Dustin's idea but Eddie would later kiss his feet for it. When they got there they had picked out spots near the gate and Eddie laid out on the chair and pulled out a cigarette, promising to look after they're stuff.
He had thought about asking her to join Hellfire since she'd probably enjoy it but the fear of rejection was too much for him. That and it'd be pretty hard to concentrate on a campaign when Y/N's pretty eyes were on him.
She was wearing a simple black bikini but goddamn, Eddie could see that she had a couple more tattoos -- one on her right breast of a bat with no head, some phrase on her hip bone, and when she turned her back towards him Eddie could see she had little wings right above the waist line of her bottoms.
Jeff and Gareth noticed him drooling over her and decided to follow Dustin to the pool, leaving Eddie a mumbling mess. All he could think about is her tramp stamp and how it contrasted against her wet skin, god Eddie had to fight popping a semi right then and there.
"There a reason your staring at me Munson?" Y/N said through a taunting smile, swaying her hips until she was standing over him. Eddie only held his hands up in defense, "I just, I uh. I mean-" Y/N crossed her arms, making Eddie very aware of how her boobs squished against her arms.
"I just wanted, wanted to-" Eddie couldn't think -- she was so much hotter than Eddie had thought. "Wanted to?" Y/N cocked her eyebrow at him, her fingers tapping against her elbows. "Your tattoos! You got, you got nice tattoos."
She laughed at him and Eddie couldn't help but smile at it, even if she was laughing at him. Y/N decided to sit down in the chair beside him and lean in a little, unknowingly giving him access to see the forbidden valleys of her breasts.
"You're practically drooling, and you're trying to tell me it's because of my tattoos?"
Eddie didn't respond, his brain only focused on the tattoo on her tits which made her grab his chin, forcing him to look at her and continue to mumble out nonsense.
Y/N knew that he had a crush on her, it was a bit pathetic but damn did she think it was cute. She couldn't help but tease.
She leaned closer to him, enough that her perfume clogged his senses, and pressed her lips to his ear, "You know, I got a few more tats underneath my swimsuit if you ever wanna see them."
She licked the shell of his ear causing him to visibly shutter and moan. Eddie grabbed her arm, "I, I got a van." Y/N giggled down at his desperate state. "Hm. I was thinking maybe back at my place later. So I could show you all of my pretty tattoos, and you could take the time to appreciate them."
Her hand was now rubbing up and down his arm giving him goosebumps and his head was so foggy with her presents that Eddie couldn't register what she was insinuating, he just nodded.
When her soft lips pressed against his cheek is when he felt his dick jump at the sudden feeling, "See you then pretty boy." And she was gone, leaving Eddie dazed and with a semi.
Little did he know he wasn't being very secretive about his staring, catching her attention and jumping when she starting storming over to him. Oh shit, he thought before trying to come up with an excuse.
#eddie munson#stranger things#joseph quinn#eddie munson x reader#eddie stranger things#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fic#eddie munson x reader smut#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you smut#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x female reader smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female character
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Thor - The perfect camouflage
His bosses didn't understand anything about hooligans. Why should he take the undercover job? Just because he had the shortest hair in the precinct. He had been given a soccer jersey as "camouflage", which looked ridiculous to the max over his slim body with the slight belly line. He had googled a little, with the Ultras the skinheads were not so strongly represented. If he wanted to appear credible, he needed a better disguise.
He did a little research on hip brands in the Ultras scene. In normal life, the lads were much more discreet than his superiors probably imagined. Baldly shaved skulls and obviously radical right-wing symbols were the exceptions. Symbolism had become much more subtle. Clothing from martial arts brands that embodied the outsiders rather than the mainstream was in vogue. Let's see if he could find something suitable in the evidence room…
He had taken home a sports bag with clothes he thought suitable. Tomorrow morning he wanted to go dressed up to a boxing club, which, according to everything he had been able to research on the Internet, could be a meeting place for the criminal Ultras. He put on one of the T-shirts. A little better, but he still didn't look like a street fighter. Besides, the freshly washed and ironed clothes looked silly. To make them look at least a little used, he got into bed with a T-shirt and sweatpants. And turned up the heat in the bedroom all the way. Maybe that way he would at least sweat a little. It couldn't hurt for his performance tomorrow.
He dreamed wildly that night. He saw himself in full protective gear facing a pack of hooligans. All alone. And suddenly the pack was wearing police uniforms. They all looked like cloned versions of his boss. And he carried a Molotov cocktail in his hand and hurled it into the crowd. And suddenly he was no longer in a street fight but in the south curve of an absurdly gigantic stadium together with thousands of fans. Drenched in sweat, he woke up. It was still the middle of the night. Maybe he was still dreaming… This wasn't his bedroom after all. It stank not only of sweat, but also of cigarettes and beer. And in the semi-darkness, he could see a large Ultrafans flag on the wall. Dazed, he turned on the light. He was in a shabby one-room apartment. Dirty dishes were piled up in the kitchenette. Dirty laundry lay on the floor and over the desk chair. On the desk, the screen of the laptop, which had not been shut down, flickered. He moved the mouse and the Ultras' Facebook page opened. What had happened here?
He really needed to take a piss. Where was the bathroom? Behind the only door was the small hallway. Bomber jackets hung on the wall. On the floor, sneakers, combat boots, baseball bats. The door with the peephole and the security chain certainly didn't lead to the bathroom. The door with the cracked glass pane did. Thank God, there was the toilet. That could also be cleaned. Fuck, I'm still dreaming, he thought to himself as he used his muscular inked forearms to get his monstrous cock out of his pants. But the dream felt fucking real. And the image in the bathroom mirror was his reflection. An alpha hooligan. He exuded pride in his Nordic roots, hatred of all things foreign, with every single pore in his body. Rarely had the camouflage of an undercover investigator been so perfect.
He exchanged the sweatpants for army trousers, looked for a pair of socks somewhere in the dirty laundry and laced up the combat boots. Then he put on his bomber jacket and gloves, grabbed his packed gym bag and headed out. The boxing gym opened in half an hour. It couldn't hurt to be there first.
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Eternity
Pairing: Vampire Loki x vampire reader × Bucky
Warnings: all the smut, smut with plot(totally got away from me lol), M/M smut, oral (m recieving) hand job, smoking, mentions of alcohol, swearing, one night stand, hair pulling, minor mentions of blood, I thiiiink that's it (I'm really sorry if I missed anything!)
Summary: James tries to forget while Loki takes you under his wing....
Dividers by: @firefly-graphics
Part Seven--Part Eight-
James leaned on the wall puffing his cigarette looking out at the dance floor. He hadn't seen Loki since that night at the mansion and honestly he was grateful. If he could be replaced so easily then maybe it was time for him to move on. The bass vibrated the floor as he glanced around for someone to take his mind off of everything for the night when he spotted him. Tall, short blonde hair, a broad muscular chest wrapped in a tight white t-shirt....the opposite of Loki. "He'll do." He said to himself throwing his cigarette down he made his way to the dancefloor.
He came up behind the man, tapping him on the shoulder when he turned smiling "hey." The man said. He had to admit he had a killer smile. "Hey, wanna go somewhere?" James asked looking around. He watched the man look him up and down "sure, where to handsome?" He asked smiling again. "Follow me." James said weaving through the crowd heading for the back of the club. He guided the man to a long dark hallway by the exit, turning around pushing him against the wall "don't you wanna know my name?" The man asked smiling "no, I don't." James said pressing his chest against him he ran his fingers through the man's hair gripping it pressing his lips to his.
He felt the man's arm wrap around his back, sliding down to grip his ass pulling his hips to him, his tongue sliding past James's lips hearing him moan. James slid his hands down his broad chest, leaning back the man's lips followed him, latching onto his neck as he unbuckled his belt. "Mmm..God your hot." The man said sucking on the skin beneath his ear. "Stop talking blondie." James panted pulling the man's belt loose unbuttoning his pants. He pressed the man back, kneeling down in front of him pulling his pants down enough to free his cock. He looked up at the man seeing his pupils blown, panting hard as he licked him from base to tip before taking him all in, feeling him hit the back of his throat.
"Aahh fuck..." the man groaned, lacing his fingers through James's hair pulling his head back before pushing back in. James closed his eyes, trying to block everything out as he hollowed his cheeks sucking hard as he pulled his head back. "Mm just like that baby..." the man breathed above him, increasing his pace he felt him twitch in his mouth. He reached up grabbing the man's thighs as he took him all in, holding him there as he spilled down his throat moaning. James pulled off with a pop, standing up seeing the man's eyes closed head tilted back against the wall "God your good at that." He panted smiling again.
James lit another cigarette while the man put himself back together "don't you want me to return the favor?" He asked buckling his belt. "Nah I'm good, see ya around blondie." James said winking as he walked back towards the dance floor. He walked up to the bar ordering a shot grabbing his jacket. He downed it wincing at the burn in his throat as he threw a few bucks on the bar walking to the door. The cool night air washed over him as he walked to where he was staying. He looked around before ducking into the trees sighing as he made it to the small clearing his stuff was in. He grabbed some kindling, starting a small fire as he leaned back on a fallen tree. He tilted his head up looking at the stars wondering what Loki was doing when a dark figure leaned over him "mortals..." he growled as James tried to jump up, feeling a sharp pain in his head when everything went dark...
Loki opened the door ushering you inside "Alright, find us a table darling and I will order drinks." He said seeing you nod. He walked over to the bar, looking around at the dancefloor hoping to see a certain brunette. He sighed looking down, he'd been looking for James for two nights and so far came up empty. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention, seeing a tall muscular blonde man walk out from the hallway running a hand through his short hair. Loki could sense his heart racing making him lick his lips.
The man walked up to the bar waving at the bartender when he looked over at Loki "Well hello tall dark and mysterious, what brings you here?" The man asked smiling. "Just seeing what kind of trouble we can get into." Loki said grabbing his drinks "Oh, we?" The man asked as Loki nodded to you as the man looked over at you. He looked back at Loki smiling "Mm she's hot." The man said looking Loki up and down "would you care to join us?" Loki asked smiling back. "Let me grab a drink and I'll be right there." The man said running a finger down Loki's arm as he walked towards the table.
Setting the drinks down he slid into the booth next to you "the man from the bar will be over in a minute, show me what you have learned." Loki said sitting back sipping his drink. You fluffed your hair, pushing your breasts up as the man walked over "God, was he smiling like that the whole time?" You asked making Loki laugh, "actually yes." He said looking at you. "Hello beautiful." The man purred coming up to the table. You pulled your gaze from Loki to the blonde man. "Hey sexy, come sit by me?" You smirked patting the seat next to you when the man sat down. "So, what are your names?" He asked sipping his drink. "We prefer to leave that a...mystery." Loki purred from your other side.
You slid closer to the man, running your fingers across his chest "so...what brings you here?" You asked, trailing your fingers down his stomach "oh...umm...just looking for a good time." He stuttered when you dug your nails into his thigh "what a coincidence, us to." You smiled up at him seeing him shiver. You gripped the man's shoulders, lifting up to straddle him putting your thighs on either side if his. "Darling come here." You purred as Loki slid closer. "W..what are you..." the man started when you placed a finger on his lips "you said you wanted to have a good time right?" You asked kissing his cheek "so, let us show you a good time." You whispered into his ear kissing his neck.
You pulled back looking down at him as you reached for his belt "s..someone might see." The man said trying to brush your hands away. "No one's gonna see baby, it's alright." You shushed him pulling his hands away. "Darling.." you winked at Loki as he leaned up, unscrewing the light bulb above the table plunging the area into darkness. "See...all better." You purred, leaning down kissing his neck feeling his hips tilt up into you. "Mm..someone's eager." You said smiling looking at Loki seeing him smirk. You reached down unbuckleing his belt, sliding your hand down gripping his cock hearing him moan.
You reached over, lacing your fingers through Loki's hair pulling him to you pressing your lips to his. Feeling the man beneath you rock his hips with your hand the grip in Loki's hair tightened, sliding your tongue past his lips licking into his mouth "god..that's hot.." the man moaned gripping your hips. You pulled back looking at the man under you "like to watch don't ya?" You teased, stroking him faster watching him tilt his head back closing his eyes. Loki reached up, gripping the man's hair holding his head back as you leaned down sucking and kissing his neck. "God yesss....like that.." he moaned rocking his hips.
You gripped him tighter feeling him twitch in your hand "come for me...let go baby..." you breathed against his neck, licking his pulse point as your fangs came down, scraping his neck. "Aahh...gooood...." the man gritted when he came hard in your hand when you sank your fangs into his neck, sucking hard as you rode him through his high, his hips rocking with your hand. "Darling, that's enough." You barely heard Loki through your haze, continuing to drink from the man when Loki gripped your hair pulling you back "I said that's enough." He growled pulling you to him licking your lips clean. "Y..yes master.." you groaned when he released you.
You leaned down, licking the man's neck clean reaching behind you grabbing some napkins to clean your hand. You tossed them aside grabbing the man's head making him look at you "you had a good time yes?" You asked seeing him nod slowly "good, get some rest and drink lots of water ok." You said "yes ma'am." He droned not breaking eye contact. "Good boy, you have a good night." You smiled seeing him smile back. Loki slid out the other side of the booth holding his hand out "come darling, I think we've had enough fun for one night." He said as you grabbed his hand crawling off the man. Loki looked around one more time before walking you to the door letting you out.
The drive home was silent as Loki kept his eyes on the road. "A..are you mad at me?" You asked looking down. Hearing him clear his throat "no, I am not mad, but you must be more careful." He said sterntly glancing over at you. He sighed looking back at the road "You are a fledgling, inexperienced. Had I not stopped you you would have drained him." He said running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry master. I'll be more careful." You said looking out the window when you felt him grab your hand. "It's fine darling, you will catch on." He said squeezing your hand.
He pulled into the driveway stepping out of the car Loki walked around holding his arm out guiding you up the steps when he froze "Loki..what is it?" You asked looking up at him seeing his eyes wide. Following his gaze you looked at the front door, a large dagger sticking out of it holding a piece of paper. "Umm...what..." you started when Loki drug you up the steps pulling the dagger from the door. "Inside...now." He growled opening the door. You quickly walked past him as he looked out into the night before coming in slamming the door. "Loki, what's wrong?" You asked pulling your coat off. Not answering he walked into the living room opening the paper.
You hung up your coat following him seeing him stand in front of the fireplace "loki..." you trailed off when he threw the dagger lodging into the wall "Fuck!" He yelled throwing the paper into the fire, sitting down in his chair holding his head in his hands. You slowly walked over, fidgeting with your hands coming to stand in front of him. "I thought I could do it..." he mumbled sighing "do what?" You asked watching him "I thought I made it this time." He said looking up at you. "Darling, there is something I need to do, I need you to stay here ok?" He asked grabbing your hand. "No loki, I'm coming with you." You said as he quickly stood "no! You will stay here do you understand? I cannot let him find you." He said sternly walking to the stairs.
"Who?..Loki what.." you started when he turned around "you will do as I say and stay here." He growled "y..yes master." You said looking down. You stayed in the living room while he went upstairs looking at the dagger in the wall. The blade was silver with what looked like an emerald embedded in it, the hilt was two snakes wrapped around eachother, the heads splitting at the blade. "Darling..." Loki called out getting your attention, you turned seeing him covered head to toe in dark green leather, long pieces of gold armor covering his shoulders and forearms down to his hands, black and green leather weaved across his chest holding another piece of armor. You were entranced as he fastened a strap across his chest looking up at you.
He walked over pulling the dagger from the wall slipping into a sheath on his belt. "If something happens, go into my room there is a safe in the floor under the bed." He said grabbing your hands "I have written the combination down on the nightstand, if I am not back before dawn take the money and leave." He said kissing your hands. "Loki no, I won't..." you stared feeling your eyes burn "you must! I will not be able to protect you, you must run. Swear to me." He said sternly gripping your hands. "Loki.." you trailed off "swear it!" He said louder making you jump "i..I swear." You said looking into his eyes. "Good girl." He said kissing your forehead heading for the door.
He opened it looking back at you "i..I love you." You said seeing him smile "remember what I taught you." He said as he walked out closing the door. You sat in his chair feeling a tear stream down your cheek. You wanted to help but had no idea how to. You ran a hand through your hair looking at the fire seeing a piece of the paper hadn't burned. You dove to your knees grabbing it seeing an address written on it you jumped up running upstairs you burst into your room, quickly changing your clothes opting for dark jeans and a black sweater. You pulled your phone out inputting the address as you ran downstairs "I'm coming Loki." You said opening the door running into the night.
🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤🩸🖤
@vbecker10 @lokisgoodgirl @sinsandguilt @high-functioning-lokipath @mochie85 @slytherclaw1227 @jaidenhawke @budugu @xorpsbane @schizonephilim @lokidokieokie @your-taste-on-my-lips @lokixryss @asgardianprincess1050 @tallseaweed @aniar4wniak @sekaishell @lokispetblogs @loopsisloops @trojanaurora @lonadane @yelkmelk @stupidthoughtsinwriting @123forgottherest @silverfire475 @goblingirlsarah @commanding-officer @glitterylokislut @kkdvkyya @cueloki @daggers-and-mischief @sititran @witchyblue @verycollectivecreator @nixymarvelkins @chantsdemarins @shinraski @usagishira @nightshadelm @filthyhiddles @dukes2581 @assemblingavenger @lulubelle814 @irishhappiness @wolfsmom1 @luvlady-writes @lovingchoices14 @thomase1
#loki#vampire au#vampire loki#vampire reader#loki x you#loki x y/n#loki x reader#loki x female reader#loki fanfiction#loki fanfic#loki imagine#loki x bucky#loki odinson imagine#loki odinson fanfiction#loki odinson x you#loki odinson x reader#loki odinson x y/n#loki odinson#loki odinson x female reader#loki laufeyson imagine#loki laufeyson fanfic#loki laufeyson x y/n#loki laufeyson x reader#loki laufeyson x female reader#loki laufeyson#loki laufeyson x you#loki smut#loki angst#loki odinson smut#loki odinson angst
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Flanon Asks: "Still on my “I’m in pain and need comfort post-surgery era” unfortunately (it’s been a day lol)
What about cuddling asks with your OCs? I promised I’d send asks and still have yet to. Make the cuddles as sweet or spicy as you want, I’d love to hear more about how they all act when it comes to a gesture as intimate as cuddling together.
I especially love how cuddling could be either soft or sexy. Or both. Supply me with the OC knowledge
- 🍮"
Content: implied smoking, petnames, mentions of sin, mentions of vivisection, thighjob, mild dubcon, grinding
Zander:
It's bliss. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you against his soft body. He's so warm and holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world. There's the lingering, almost sweet scent of cigarettes that clings to him almost as strongly as the cheap rose perfume he always wears. He smells a bit like someone's grandmother's house, but it's... oddly comforting. Especially with the warmth radiating off him.
One hand traces absentminded patterns across your back, the other scritching gently at your scalp. His lips are just as soft as the rest of him, settling against your forehead. You'll probably end up with a lipstick stain there, but it's hard to care when he's letting you rest your head on his tits.
"Feeling comfy there, trouble?" His voice is quiet and teasing, accent slipping into something more ambiguous than usual. "Rest up, I'll be here as long as you need.
Lee:
Relaxing doesn't come naturally to him. Even as he lays half on top of you, head resting on your chest and listening to your heartbeat, he's still a little tense. But his slightly chilly hands slide under your shirt to warm against your stomach, and he gives a content little sigh.
"Thanks for this." He needs it as much as you do, and he's not about to pretend otherwise. "This is... nice."
His eyes close, a yawn stifled against your shoulder. He's like the world's sleepiest weighted blanket, and you can't even bring yourself to worry whether or not his permanently smudged eyeliner is coming off on you. He's too cute to disturb, anyway. Especially when his breathing evens out and he's softly snoring on top of you. He really needs this.
Mav:
His wings are soft to the touch, wrapped around you both like a blanket. Their nose presses into your neck, mumbling words in a language you can't identify, but you can tell they're full of affection for you. With each word, his lips brush against your skin and his breath ghosts across you. They all but melt into you, like your bodies are made to hold each other.
Your fingers brush across the soft down where his wings meet his back. A shudder runs through their body. His hips shift. You dig your fingers a little deeper, getting right to where the feather shafts bury themselves in Mav's skin. His hips shift again, trying to be subtle as he grinds against your thigh. Their voice turns breathy and you catch a single word.
"...fuck~"
Charles:
"This feels... inappropriate." His voice is barely a breath, like any loud noise might shatter everything.
His arms are around you, nose buried in your hair as he revels in the scent of you. He can't bring himself to open his eyes, move an inch, do a single thing that might ruin the moment. He feels so intensely, deeply like he shouldn't be there. Like he shouldn't be holding you. It's impropper, inappropriate, goes against all the social mores he's clung to over the past hundred-odd years.
But he can't help himself. The way you feel in his arms. The feeling of his skirts riding up enough for your calves to touch. The sound of your heart beating, pumping warm blood through your veins. He can't help himself, sinful man that he is. So he'll enjoy it for a few moments longer.
Lin:
"Have we cuddled?"
His leg bounces, shifting restlessly under you. His arms feel nice around you, but you could definitely do without all the movement. He's been asking the same question since you pinned him down five minutes ago. You're honestly not sure he actually understands what cuddling is.
With a sigh, he continues his nervous little movements, fingers tracing lines along your skin. You're disconcertingly aware that they're incision lines for vivisections. You're not sure if it's better or worse than the bouncing, but... you'll teach him how to cuddle properly soon enough.
Etienne:
"Lay still, kiddo." He laughs a little, giving your hip a squeeze as he spoons you. "No need to squirm~"
His breath is warm on your neck, the scent of his expensive cologne surrounding you. His sheets are the softest satin you've ever felt, his mattress providing the perfect amount of support. Even when cuddling, everything around you reminds you of how much money he has.
His hands roam across your body as you cuddle, rubbing and squeezing, lips pressing lazy kisses to the back of your neck. You can feel his precum dripping down your thighs, his hard cock pressed between them. It's hard not to squirm. But he knows that. He's doing it on purpose. You can feel him smirking against your skin. The bastard.
Lucky:
Everything about him is so steady. His breath, his heartbeat, his arm draped loosely across your lower back. He's so solid. So firm. You can't forget for a moment that he's laying under you. But it's comforting, the certainty that he'll keep holding you until you've both had your fill. That his thumb will keep rubbing small circles on your hip. That nothing will disturb either of you while you're cuddling.
"Alright, love?"
Even that's consistent. The check in every ten minutes to make sure you're doing okay. His voice rumbles through his chest and into your body like a purr. It's all you can do to nod sleepily, reluctant to move even an inch as you bask in the comfort of him.
Ash:
Its wings arch over you both, wrapping you two in a warm little cocoon. Its skin is warm under yours, naked bodies pressed together. It takes its time to run its hands across you. Memorising every curve and bump, every wrinkle and crease. The way it touches you... you feel like the most important thing in the world.
"Perfect."
It doesn't speak the word. You merely hear it in your mind, filled with a feeling of sincerity. It's like you're the only two people in the world. Hidden away in Ash's wings, holding each other, exploring each other. What else do you need?
Glitch:
"You're real keen on a cwtch, babe. Something up?"
The tip of his tail twitches in feigned annoyance, and you're certain that his ears are twitching under his hood too. But despite his alleged reluctance, he still squishes onto the couch next to you and wraps his arms around you. He's warm, and you can already hear the wheezy beginnings of a purr coming from somewhere deep in his ribs.
It's not hard to get them to relax into it. To curl up around you and purr, nuzzling against the top of your head. Soon enough he'll start kneading you gently. Not that you'll be able to acknowledge it if you want him to keep cuddling you.
Callum:
You'd been meaning to just cuddle. You weren't being coy when you said you were just moving to get comfortable. You hadn't meant to grind against him, to rile him up like this. But nothing you could say would make him believe you.
"You can just ask for what ye want, I ken what you're doing here." His tongue laps at the sensitive spot behind your ear, body pinning you down on your stomach.
His hard cock ruts against your ass, hands groping across your body. You could protest more, assert your innocence, but honestly it's easier to just relax into the feeling. To enjoy the way his lips skim teasingly across the back of your neck, likely plotting where exactly to bite. To let him do whatever he wants.
Fergal:
"Wish I could bunk off tonight, just stay here." He sighs, fingers dragging up and down your back as you lay on his chest. "Sure look, I'll be thinking about coming back to you the whole shift."
His laugh jostles you slightly, but his arms keep you from falling off him. You're not worried about falling at all when he holds you like this. You know he wouldn't let you go unless he absolutely had to, anyway. Like for the shift he's currently contemplating skipping. You know he won't. He takes his job far too seriously.
Either way, he's holding you for now. His body is warm under you, and he makes sure you're as comfortable as possible. The way he looks at you, with such soft eyes... you feel like the only thing that matters to him.
Yofi:
You're not entirely sure where you are. You know where you were, when you started cuddling her. But now? Now you're... somewhere else. Somewhere soft, warm, bathed in a gentle light. It feels almost like you're inside of them. Inside of that being of love and light and beauty. It's almost like you're floating, drifting in an endless expanse, his arms the only thing that can ground you.
"Relax." Her voice is soft, echoing around you. "Rest. You're safe."
You are safe. It's so easy for your body to go limp, to rest and relax like you were told. Nothing can get you here. Only Yofiel. And you trust him to keep you safe.
Yana:
"Ugh, seriously?"
Her voice drips with disgust. You can feel the waves of annoyance coming off her as she reluctantly allows you to curl into her side, arm stretched across the back of the couch. Your cheek presses against the worn leather of her jacket. Everything about her is cold and unwelcoming.
You can feel her fingers twitching near you, waiting for you to give her an excuse to flick you or pinch you or smack the back of your head. Honestly, it's probably the only reason she's allowing you to cuddle up to her.
Azza:
You're both sweaty. You lay on his chest, his arms around you as you both rest on the softest moss you've ever felt. You're both messy, spent from the wild sex you'd been having minutes before. But the cool breeze is drying the sweat, and you know he'll bring you down to the river to clean up soon enough, so it's easy to enjoy being held.
He hums a tune that sounds... ancient. The sound vibrates through him, through you, into the earth around you. Your eyes are closed, your body limp against his. You spent all your energy and now all you can do is rest and let him hold you. It's warm and lovely, and you feel more relaxed than you ever have before. More relaxed than you ever thought possible.
Aisling:
"You know..." She shifts under you with a pout. "I'm going to have to tickle you. At some point. When you least expect it."
Honestly, you're kind of surprised that she hasn't done it already. He's not the type to sit still for this long with you in his arms without doing something annoying. It's like she's got some innate need to be deeply irritating. Which... you figure is pretty close to the truth. They seem to need mischief to survive.
You probably shouldn't be taking this risk. You should probably move away so she doesn't keep thinking about tickling you. But it's really hard to bring yourself to stop cuddling her when she's so warm and makes you feel so tingly when you touch her. It's like tiny electric shocks, pleasantly stimulating every muscle in your body. It's worth the inevitable tickling.
Gin:
You're pretty sure you told her you wanted to cuddle. It had seemed like she'd understood for a while too. She'd held you, cradled you in her arms, tendrils of algea wrapping around you like a blanket. It was all sweet, nice, warm.
And then she'd started grinding on your thigh.
She's shameless about it. Still holding you, still caressing you, wrapping you up... But now she's a little bolder, hand straying between your thighs, lips teasing across your neck. Now her sharp teeth graze your skin. Her hips shift against your leg. She's insatiable, and you know you won't be "cuddling" for much longer.
Missy:
"Are you sure about this, sweetie? I don't want you getting too hot..."
It's the fourth time she's asked in the past ten minutes. Both of you are wrapped up in blankets, not even the slightest sliver of skin touching as she holds you in her lap. It's warm, for sure. Bordering on stifling. But the way her heart pounds and the slight trembling of her hands reminds you of how much she wants this. Wants you.
It's not hard to reassure her, at least temporarily. To let her know that it's worth it to be held by her. And it is worth it. The gentleness with which she caresses you through the blanket. The sweet way she presses kisses to your covered shoulders. She's so loving. It's worth all the fuss.
#sunshine#zander#leslie#mav#charles#master lin#etienne#lucky#ash#glitch (mouse)#callum#fergal#yofi#yana#azza#aisling#ginny greenteeth#misery (missy)#18+ only#gn!reader#🍮anon
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💌share something with us about an up-and-coming work (WIP) that has you excited!
🥺🧡
I've had a wip that's been plaguing me far longer than I've wanted it to, but I'm finally making some headway in editing it up and finishing the last couple chapters!
It's an au where Neil and Andrew meet at a bar and have a one night stand. But it doesn't go quite as planned because Andrew doesn't usually do fwb, but Neil seems to be some kind of exception. The rest is Andrew's ongoing crisis about it. :^)
Can post a lil snippet just to encourage myself:
—
For being the one to suggest they go together, Neil seems desperate to be anywhere but Andrew’s car the moment he slides into the passenger seat, immediately digging into his sling for the spare outfit he keeps on hand. How each of Neil's bags manage to hold the amount they do is beyond Andrew. Then again, modern magic doesn't exactly come with an instruction manual.
Neil pulls his shirt over his head, wasting no time in swapping it for a hoodie Andrew recognizes as one of his that has been missing for some time, the patches previously peeling off now stitched up with thread that almost matches their original lining. Andrew has yet to see the emergency sewing kit Neil must keep on hand, but chalks it up to yet another thing stored in the void space of a bag only Neil can navigate.
Neil lifts his hips to unbutton his jeans, and Andrew decides it best to put his car in park.
"Someone's feeling voyeuristic," he comments, mildly disappointed that Neil chose today not to go commando.
Neil snorts in reply and denies Andrew any teasing show, pulling his spare jeans on with little fanfare.
"Your windows are black enough to block out the sun," Neil says, tossing his clothes into the back like it's his name on the car's title. He sits back into the seat with more force than necessary, staring forward for a second before digging through the glove compartment for Andrew's cigarettes. He gets one lit and exhales sharply over the dash.
"What's got you in such a good mood?" Andrew asks, graciously rolling Neil's window down for him.
Neil props his elbow on the door. "Long week."
The dashboard reads a quarter after eight.
"Couldn't have been that bad at Kevin's," Andrew muses.
Kevin's third favourite hobby is fussing over things that don’t matter as much as he thinks they do, at volumes Andrew wishes only dogs could hear. (The first is stumbling across obscure documentaries, and the second, debunking UFO sightings. Both of which Andrew will entertain for far longer than the third.)
"Kevin's fine," Neil corrects, moving to take another drag, but pausing just before reaching his lips to look over at Andrew. He follows Andrew's line of sight down to his bouncing knee, and stills it with his free hand. "Just a lot on my plate."
Clearly, the devil on Andrew's shoulder wants to say.
He hums instead. "Decided to see if flapping your social butterfly wings would solve the problem?"
Neil doesn't deign him with even the hint of a grin a comment like that would normally elicit.
#im being so brave about finishing this lmao#if my rsd would let me finish it so i could work on something else!!! thatd be grand#aftg#nana asks#my writing#andreil#otp: nothing is a love language
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Hello my love my sweet my beautiful strawberry pie, how about for Harringrove they argue so much that they get kicked out of class and then they just keep arguing until Billy says something like “would you just shut up?!” And Steve yells, “why don’t you make me!!” And Billy grabs him by the shirt and kisses him. Up to you whether class has ended and they’re surrounded by stunned classmates, or it’s still class and they’re completely alone in the silent hall staring at each other.
💜💜💜
you want it? you got it.
arguing, first kiss, getting together, Billy's incredible fanon English Lit braincell
---
"You're telling me, you're telling me, that Sara Teasdale is more inspired than Elizabeth Barrett Browning? Shut the fuck up and get out of my face!" Billy snarls, baring his teeth.
"I'm sorry, man, but who gets mistaken for who?" Steve rebuts. They've argued their way out of the classroom, down the hall, and out into the parking lot. The junior is red-faced, steaming with righteous fury over the slight to his favorite poet (which is what had gotten them kicked out of class in the first place).
Billy perches on the back bumper of his Camaro and shrugs out of his denim jacket, searching through the pockets and huffing when he can't find his cigarettes. "I can't believe you got me into trouble over such a useless opinion."
"It's just a fact."
"You're fucking insufferable, pretty boy."
"I may be insufferable, but I'm also right."
Billy grabs Steve by the front of his shirt and drags the taller boy forward, sending his Nike sneakers skidding along the pavement as he nearly trips over his own feet. The blonde licks his lips and starts to speak in a voice that has Steve's brain melting down his spine:
"Love me Sweet, with all thou art,
Feeling, thinking, seeing;
Love me in the lightest part,
Love me in full being.
"Love me with thine open youth
In its frank surrender;
With the vowing of thy mouth,
With its silence tender."
Steve exhales, blinking stupidly. "Wow."
Billy's eyes shine with victory and he tilts his head to the side challengingly.
"Your turn, Harrington. Dazzle me with some fuckin' Teasdale, or admit defeat."
Gathering what remains of his intelligence, Steve focuses on the flow and rhythm of his favorite poem:
"Oh I have sown my love so wide
That he will find it everywhere;
It will awake him in the night,
It will enfold him in the air.
"I set my shadow in his sight
And I have winged it with desire,
That it may be a cloud by day
And in the night a shaft of fire."
Billy licks his lips again and whispers, "Fuck, pretty boy. You win."
And slams their mouths together. The first thing Steve thinks, because he's a complete idiot, is his mustache kind of tickles. Then his brain catches up with his lips and he realizes that he's finally kissing Billy Hargrove.
His hands move to grip Billy's hips and he slides into the vee of Billy's legs. The younger boy keeps his hands tangled in the front of Steve's t-shirt. His tongue invades Steve's mouth, exploring and conquering every inch.
Billy tastes like smoke and bubblegum and up close like this he smells strongly of expensive, spicy cologne. The junior runs a degree or two warmer than Steve, like there are still rays of California sunlight clinging to his golden skin.
When they finally separate to breathe, Steve asks, "Are you free on Friday?"
He's happily surprised when Billy snorts and nods, sending his curls bouncing. "Yeah, pretty boy. I'm free."
Steve sticks out his tongue. "Not anymore, I'm taking you out."
#harringrove ficlet#harringrove#harringrove fanfic#harringrove fluff#first kiss#argument#bickering#harringrove first kiss#harringrove getting together#ANYTHING FOR MY WIFE#I LOVE YOU#THANK YOU FOR THE WONDERFUL PROMPT I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS
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Hey! So I totally haven’t been binge reading all your Eddie fics for the last hour… anyway, first and foremost, I’ve gotta let you know they’re all fucking wonderful. Secondly, I was actually hoping to request something if you’re still accepting requests? I got the idea of Eddie with a Cop!Reader who is tasked with protecting him all throughout the boathouse & Jason gang ordeal. Reader is his age (but graduated on time unlike someone…) and they’ve been a sort of crush of Eddie’s for a while but now they actually get to interact. Whatever else is up to you, hope you have a great weekend! <33333
Tysm!!! <3
This was not how you expected to spend your weekend. Not by a long shot. You never expected to be holed up in a boat house with Eddie "the freak" Munson, but you've had shittier jobs in your line.
You had only been a cop for two years now, having graduated and went straight into the academy. This was your sophomore year and you were excited to be able to finally be allowed on the field. And who would've thunk it that your second job ever would be protecting your high school weed dealer.
"What the actual hell are you doing here?" Eddie asked when he seen you sitting in your cop car outside of the boat house. It was dark out so he felt a bit safer stepping outside.
"Official police business, Munson." You nodded, "Also know as keeping you safe."
"Safe? How did you know where I was?"
"Do you forget that we went to school together? I know where you got your weed from. Once they said they couldn't find you, I knew exactly where to look."
"So are you going to turn me in now or what?" Eddie sighed.
"No. Listen, I know this town is...cursed. And I've seen the body. I know you're not capable of doing something like that." You sighed, "You're a little weird but...if that wasn't the work of something supernatural, then I don't know what is."
Eddie visably relaxed a bit as you followed him back to the boat house. He held the door open for you and allowed you to walk in first.
"You got a gun?" Eddie asked.
"Locked and loaded," you nodded.
"Good. Because I'm going to need you to either shoot me or shoot that fucker Jason." Eddie sighed, "Does the other cops know where I am?"
"No. I'm actually off duty right now." You nodded, sitting down on the bench to the left of the building.
"So what...you're doing this out of the kindness of your heart?" He snorted.
"Something like that." You nodded, "You were nice to me in school. Not a lot of people were nice to me then. Now that I'm a cop, even lesser people treat me like a human. I just wanted to pay you back for it."
"Thanks," Eddie said, almost in disblief, "But I don't want you to risk your job just to protect me. If this...whatever is coming after me, it just needs to be me and me alone. I don't know if I can fight for both me and you at the same time."
"You won't have to," you nodded, tapping your hip where your gun was holstered "I'll fight for the both of us. If some unknown creature comes after us, just run."
A few hours had went by and it was the middle of the night when you looked over at Eddie. You had been talking and chatting, hopefully getting his mind off of everything that was going wrong in his life.
"You know Munson, I used to have a crush on you." You blurted out, causing him to stop in his tracks as he looked over at you.
"Say that again?" He plucked the cigarette from between his lips, "I don't think I heard you right."
"You heard me right," you snorted, "In our freshman year when you and your band played at the talen show. Corroded Coffin was the name, wasn't it?"
"Still is," Eddie nodded.
"Yeah. I thought you were the coolest kid in school." You grinned, "I still have one of your guys' shirt. I wear it to sleep at night. It's comfortable."
"You still have that?" His eyes widened as he walked closer to you, "Which design?"
"The one with the demon wings surrounding your name." You smirked, "Best $10 I've ever spent."
He stared at you in shock and awe for a moment before he cracked a smile.
"You realize the irony of this, right?" He snorted.
"Yeah. I'm a cop admitting I had a crush on a drug dealer." You snorted.
"If we get out of this alive---"
"If we get out of this alive, Munson, you're taking me to dinner." You said, making him laugh.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#thefreakymunson#fluff
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— V1KTOR —
Another CP77 blorbo? Oops.
He also has his own directory page now.
— BASIC DETAILS.
full name: V1KTOR, ID#: NC770416 (Victor Montoya).
age: 38.
gender: male.
orientation: gay.
occupation: Arasaka counterintelligence agent / mercenary / artist manager of sorts / bodyguard for Us Cracks when touring NC.
— PHYSICAL ATTRIBUTES.
height: 6 foot 2 inches.
weight: 225 lbs.
build: broad, well-formed shoulders and pectorals; full thighs, where he carries most of his excess weight.
eyes: piercing white with dark rings giving the illusion of pupils.
hair: dark red-to-black gradient undercut, slicked back; body / facial hair is natural black.
skin: bronze, terracotta; some freckles across lower back.
distinguishing features: tattoos and numerous ear piercings; a set of deep scars across forehead; always applies double-winged eyeliner / black lipstick on upper lip.
typical wear: calls it a "casual classy" — nice blazers (that he usually leaves open without a shirt underneath), leather pants, and boots that he knows will gleam in club lights.
objects kept close: bullet pendant / Johnny's Malorian Arms 3516 / flip lighter he received as a gift from Kerry.
— FAMILY.
Work always came before family; it was just the nature of the job he'd found himself in. As such, he's long since lost contact with his immediate family members—not necessarily on purpose.
parental figures: Rogue Amendiares.
sibling figures: Jackie Welles / Panam Palmer.
— COMMUNICATION & MANNERISMS.
posture: assertive, in a sure way to announce his presence.
most used expletive: "goddammit."
catchphrase: "I'd think that over if I were you."
‘ticks’ in talking / movement: worrying his bottom lip, jostling a foot when legs are crossed, sighs deeply during pauses in speech.
walk style: confident and straight-backed with a slight sway to his hips.
emotionality: rather flat affect, giving nothing away / hard, callous; however, for those he's close to, he loosens up a little bit.
resting default facial expression: definition of 'resting bitch face.'
— FAVORITES.
color: purple.
place: Villa Eurodyne / Electric Orgasm.
food: wontons.
drink: sake.
pastime: sitting in his car, blasting music, smoking and/or drinking / listening to Kerry play guitar as he writes material.
smells: the briskness of the waterfront / North Oak foliage / cigarette smoke.
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* BODY HEADCANONS.
BODY.
long legs. short legs. average legs. slender thighs. thick thighs. muscular thighs. skinny arms. normal arms. muscular arms. toned stomach. flat stomach. flabby stomach. soft stomach. muscular stomach. six pack. beer belly. lean frame. slender frame. muscular frame. voluptuous frame. petite frame. lanky frame. short nails. long nails. manicured nails. dirty nails. flat ass. toned ass. round ass. bubble butt. thick ass. small waist. thick waist. narrow hips. average hips. wide hips. big feet. average feet. small feet. calloused hands. soft hands. big hands. average hands. small hands. long fingers. short fingers. average fingers. broad shoulders. underweight. average weight. overweight. ideal weight.
HEIGHT.
shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm to 150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. taller than 2 m.
SKIN.
pale. fair. rosy. olive. unnatural. dark. tanned. blotchy. smooth. acne. dry. greasy. freckled. scarred. scales. cool undertones. neutral undertones. warm undertones. velvet nose.
EYES.
small. large. average. grey. brown. black. blue. red. pink. purple. green. gold. hazel. heterochromatic. doe - eyed. almond. close - set. wide -set. squinty. monolid. double eyelids. hooded eyelids. upturned. downturned. darkened sclera. slitted pupils, glowing / reflective eyes
HAIR.
thin. thick. fine. normal. greasy. dry. soft. shiny. curly. frizzy. wild. unruly. straight. smooth. wavy. floppy. cropped. pixie cut. short. jaw length. shoulder length. back length. waist length. floor length. buzz cut. bald. mohawk. white. platinum blonde. golden blonde. dirty blonde. ombre. light brown. mouse brown. chestnut brown. golden brown. chocolate brown. dark brown. jet black. ginger. auburn. strawberry brown. unnatural colour (pink with magenta tips). streaked. thin eyebrows. average eyebrows. thick eyebrows. threaded eyebrows. plucked eyebrows. waxed eyebrows. unkempt eyebrows. large amounts of body hair. average amount of body hair. little to no body hair. shaved body hair. trimmed body hair. waxed body hair. light body hair. dark body hair. thick body hair. well groomed. decently groomed. little to no grooming. wild and unkempt.
TATTOOS / PIERCINGS.
full sleeve. upper arm tattoo. thigh tattoo. shin tattoo. calves tattoo (x2). wrist tattoo. upper back tattoo. lower back tattoo. hip tattoo. hand / finger tattoo. foot tattoo. neck tattoo. face tattoo. chest tattoo. side tattoo. one tattoo. a few here and there. multiple. no tattoo. nose piercing.septum. nipple piercing ( rose gold hearts with wings ). genital piercing. industrial piercings. earlobe piercing(s). ear piercing. eyebrow piercing. tongue piercing. lip piercing. tragus piercing. gauges. navel piercing. inverse navel piercing. cheek piercing. smiley. nape piercings. no piercings.
COSMETICS.
light eyeliner. heavy eyeliner. cat eyes. mascara. fake eyelashes. matte lipstick. regular lipstick. lipgloss. chapstick. red lips. pink lips. dark lips. bronzer. highlighter. eyeshadow. neutral eyeshadow. smokey eyes. colourful eyeshadow. blush. lipliner. light contouring. heavy contouring. powder. matte foundation. satin foundation. dewy foundation. concealer. wears make up regularly. wears it from time to time. never wears make up.
SCENT.
floral. fruity. perfumes. cologne. aftershave. cocoa. moisturizer. natural soap. shampoo. cigarettes. leather. sweat. food. incense. marijuana. whiskey. wine. champagne. fried food. blood. fire. metal. rain. grass. ocean. autumn leaves. baked bread. smoke. campfire. lavender. trees. musk. rose. gingerbread. mint. oak. honey. lemon. vanilla. coffee. cake. chemicals. gasoline.
CLOTHES.
masculine. feminine. androgynous. armor. jeans. tight pants. overknee socks. tights. leggings. yoga pants. miniskirt. loose skirt. formfitting dress. cardigans. flannel. blouse. button up shirt. graphic shirt. sports shirt. sweatpants. tank top. cut off shirt. maxidress. sundress. suit and tie. cocktail dress. highslit dress. loose clothing. tight clothing. jean shorts. sweater. sweater vest. khaki pants. slacks. slops. hoodie. lab coat. cloak. harem pants. basketball shorts. boxers. boxer briefs. briefs. thong. lingerie. hotpants. hipster panties. bra. sports bra. chest binder. crop top. corset. leotard. polka dots. stripes. glitter. silk. lace. satin. leather. velvet. chemise. cashmere. patterns. florals. neon colours. pastels. neutral colors. black. dark colors. faux fur. fur. designer. tailored. high street. online stores. thrift. lots of money spent on clothes. average amount of money spent on clothes. little to no money spent on clothes. extremely fashionable. stylish. thrifty. practical. camp. conservative. tacky. ugly. unfashionable. risque. bold. who let this person dress themself. battle-damaged.
SHOES.
sneakers. slip-ons. flats. slippers. sandals. flip flops. high heels. ankle boots. combat boots. boots. knee-high boots. cowboy boots. platforms. stripper heels. bare feet. loafers. boat shoes. dress shoes. designer shoes. hand me down shoes. worn out.
BONUS PIC.
n s f w pic of her body linked here if u wanna see uwu
#━━ ❥ headcanons »#[ spicy pic in link but like...shows the piercings n her body n stuff so view at ur own discretion dhjsnakmd ]
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The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning
Chapter 9: Homestead
❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
❧ Era: Season 2
❧ Pronouns: she/her
❧ Warnings: mild swearing, bit of blood, some suggestive stuff (no smut though, yet...)
❧ Word Count: 5k
❧ In This Chapter: Your group is on the road again, trying to get to the next destination when a young group member, Sophia, goes missing in the woods. The search leads you all to the Greene family farm.
❧ A/N: Season 2 is here! I'm so excited for Reader and Daryl's relationship to get more serious... Things even get just a tad bit steamy. I'm keeping you guys on your toes, don't wanna give up the goods just yet. It's comin' though... Daryl is also super cute in this chapter but I mean he's always cute, look at him.
“Outta fuel,” Dale told Rick as he set two red gasoline canisters on the ground near the Winnebago. “Looks like we might have to siphon some gas sooner than I thought.”
Rick rested his hands on his hips and sighed, “Well, guess we’ll just have to sacrifice the van and the truck since they’re on their last legs anyway.”
“We riding in the RV?” you asked.
“Looks like it,” Rick replied.
You nodded your head and made your way to the back of the truck to tell Daryl the news.
“RV’s out of gas,” you said. “Dale wants to siphon it from the truck.”
Daryl was smoking the very last cigarette in his pack, leaning against the tailgate. “No sweat off my back,” he drawled. “We can take the bike.” He nodded his head behind him towards Merle’s motorcycle.
“You can take the bike,” you corrected him. “I’m not going anywhere near that thing.”
“Why not?”
You rolled your eyes. “Daryl, do you know how dangerous those things are? My brother had a motorcycle and he almost lost all of his fingers when he crashed and they got caught in it.”
Your lecture fell on deaf ears as by the time you finished your sentence he was already starting to get the thing on the ground. “Worst thing that happened to me was road rash,” he said. “You’ll be fine.”
“I think I’ll stick to the Winnebago,” you smiled at him, admiring the hot Georgia sun glistening off his bare arms.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to ride with Daryl on the bike, if only because you wanted another excuse to wrap your arms around him, but you couldn’t quite get over your slight fear of motorcycles, at least not yet.
After Daryl and T-Dog had siphoned the gas from the truck and T-Dog’s van, you all regrouped and prepared to leave the abandoned off-road on which you pulled over.
Just as you were about to step onto the stairs of the RV, Daryl pulled up next to you on his loud bike. You smirked at him, noticing the sleeveless leather vest he must’ve put on over his shirt when you weren’t looking.
“Where’d you get that?” you asked, pointing at his new outerwear.
“Backseat of the truck, had it for a while,” he said.
“It suits you,” you gave him a shy smile.
“Sure you don’ wanna ride with me?” he asked, the engine underneath him revving loudly.
“Maybe someday, but I’ll have to see how good you are on it first,” you teased him.
He shook his head at you, revving the engine again. “Better get a move on, then.”
You nodded, “Be careful.” Your tone was serious. You’d all just narrowly escaped the CDC with your lives, you didn’t want Daryl to kill himself on that death trap. The fact that he wasn’t wearing a helmet was already giving you anxiety.
He nodded at you and gave you a small smile before riding off to the front of the RV. Before you closed the door, you noticed the back of his vest was embroidered with a pair of white angel wings splayed across the back. Smiling to yourself, you closed the door and sat yourself down at the dining table in the motor home.
My angel, you thought, thinking of the sweet man who’d made you feel like nothing in this world could hurt you as long as he was with you.
You heard a honk from Rick’s station wagon, signaling Daryl to lead the way. The caravan wasn’t able to get far before you hit a part of the highway that was almost completely blocked by abandoned cars. Daryl had tried to find a way through, but before he could guide you all any further, the engine on Dale’s RV started sputtering and smoking like mad.
It was the radiator hose, again. You didn’t know anything about cars, but you knew this old motor home needed a new one based on how many times it had given out on you before.
Luckily, you were in the best place for such a thing to happen. You were surrounded by cars, a replacement could easily be found. Glenn (or Dale’s protégée, as you liked to call him) started working on the RV, Daryl and T-Dog got to work siphoning more fuel, Rick and Dale were standing watch, and the rest of you scavenged for anything useful you could find in the surrounding cars.
You were fortunate enough to stumble upon a lot of necessities, including bulk boxes of granola bars, a pack of plastic water bottles, a few first aid kits, bags of jerky, and extra flashlights, to name a few. You piled up all your useful finds in the RV, but the real treasures were what you found in the second car you opened.
Peering into the trunk, you feasted your eyes on a cardboard box filled to the brim with old dusty books. You rummaged through it to pluck out an old copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, one of your favorite books since you were a teenager. You would have liked to take the whole thing, but you knew you could only spare the room for one. Your pack was still almost overflowing as it was.
Your third car gave you a heap of clothes, which you were so excited about that you forced yourself to get rid of a few nonessential items in your pack to make room for some fresh clothing. Of course, you were partial to dresses and skirts, but you knew you should pick out some more practical things. You opted for a few t-shirts, knit sweaters (autumn was getting closer and closer), men’s Wranglers (you always liked men’s jeans better, anyway), a pair of corduroy overalls, a Sherpa-lined jean jacket, and a pair of brown lace up boots.
Just before you shut the rear door after packing up your spoils, you caught a glimpse of ivory colored lace peeking out of a small half-zipped floral suitcase. Your interest piqued, you reached back down and began unzipping the rest of the suitcase, pulling out a sheer off-white slip with a thick lacy trim adorning its bust and thigh-length hem. You could tell it was vintage from the attention to detail—it had thin gold-braided spaghetti straps and the daintiest little gold bows lining its delicate seams. The breast panels were composed entirely of a floral patterned lace, making it beautifully see-through. It was the silkiest, most delicate thing you’d touched in so long. It reminded you of everything you had left back at home in your closet, all the beautiful clothing you’d meticulously picked out over years of collecting.
Most of all, it reminded you of your extensive collection of lingerie and nightgowns. You had preferred to sleep in nightgowns ever since you were little, and even then you insisted on having the prettiest ones, always in pastel pinks or purples. Yes, you were very particular about your fashion. It was something you’d always prided yourself on. You liked to look and feel your best, even in your sleep.
Would it hurt to take it? You really wanted to. It was prettier than any slip you’d had back in your apartment, and it wouldn’t take up much room since it was so dainty. Besides, you were hoping Daryl would be intimate with you sooner or later, and you hadn’t been feeling particularly pretty lately. Maybe having this would help, and maybe he’d like it. It got you heated just thinking about him seeing you in this. If you ever got the chance to settle down for a while soon, you’d be sure to wear this when the time came that you were both ready.
You carefully folded the silky undergarment and tucked it into the bottom of your pile, not wanting anyone to see your more intimate find. It was essentially just a risqué nightgown, but you were a little embarrassed by the fact that you were holding onto something that was part of the past, a flimsy piece of fabric that represented the luxury and romance of a world you weren’t apart of anymore.
Then, you felt a pair of hands on your hips. You jumped with a startled yelp as you turned to face Daryl.
“Jesus, Daryl!” you sighed in relief. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Don’t you know not to sneak up on someone like that?”
“Sorry,” he said, his rough hands still holding onto your hips. “Find anything good?”
You nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Um, yeah, lots of practical stuff, and clothes too.” You looked down at the pile of clothing in your arms. “Got you some beef jerky, it’s in the RV if you want it.”
“Nah, not hungry just yet,” he said. “I’ll have some later though.” He looked around briefly to see if anyone was looking at the two of you, then he gave you a quick kiss on the side of your forehead. “Best get back to work, Dale wants to get on the road soon.”
“Good, this place gives me the creeps.”
You headed back to the RV to set down your pack. Stepping back out, you saw Glenn struggling to fix the radiator hose. You decided to climb up to the roof where Dale was keeping watch and relieve him so he could help the young man.
“Hey, Dale,” you greeted him on the roof, “I think Glenn might need your help. I can keep watch up here if you want.”
Dale removed the binoculars from his face and turned towards you with a worried look. “We got company.”
Handing you the binoculars, you raised them to your eyes to see a large herd of walkers trudging through the cars towards your group.
You tore the binoculars from your face and looked to Dale, your mouth partially agape and your eyes wide with fear. “Shit.”
Dale pulled you both down and you laid spread eagle to prevent the walkers from seeing you. You counted yourself lucky for two reasons: one, you were in the safest possible place, and two, Dale had a shotgun. You had your knife at the ready but you feared it would do little to take down the largest cluster of walkers you’d seen yet.
The groans and snarls of what you estimated to be hundreds of walkers stung your ears as you used your vantage point to locate Daryl. Luckily you had seen a few members of your group get the hint and hide underneath the abandoned cars, but you hadn’t seen Daryl since the herd had started coming through which worried you immensely.
When you saw a fleeting glimpse of a pair of angel wings sneaking behind a car, you sighed quietly in relief. You brought the binoculars back up to your eyes to see Daryl and T-Dog, both lying underneath the corpses of two walkers.
Smart, you thought, that would hide their scent.
Once the walkers had passed and made it a safe distance away from your group, both you and Dale climbed back down, and before you could even catch your breath, Daryl was right next to you making sure you were okay.
“I’m fine, we had the high ground,” you smiled, appreciating how much he seemed to care about you. He had been so much more attentive to you since the CDC, it was delightfully suffocating. He was just protective enough for it to be cute, anymore overbearing and he’d be annoying you like hell.
“T-Dog’s hurt,” he said. “Cut himself real bad.”
You turned to T-Dog to see him holding his forearm, bright red blood seeping out from between his fingers. It was perfect timing for someone to get hurt because now you had not one but two first aid kits.
“I’ll get the first aid kit,” you said. Before you could make it the RV, you all heard the terrified cries of a little girl. Sophia.
You all started jogging over to where the cries were coming from, but by the time you made it it was too late—Sophia had started running into the woods as she was being chased by two stragglers, and Rick followed shortly behind.
“There’s two walkers after my baby!” Carol cried, Lori coming up behind her to keep her quiet.
You’d hoped that Rick would be able to bring her back, but when he returned alone, you all froze.
Daryl and Rick spent the rest of the day out in the forest looking for Sophia. You’d stayed on the highway with the others, trying especially hard to comfort Carol. She was worried out of her mind, and you couldn’t blame her, not one bit. That was her daughter out there. Although you weren’t a mother, you could sympathize with how devastating it would be to not know where your child was, especially if she’d just ran into what was likely a walker-infested forest.
It was just about dark when Daryl and Rick returned without Sophia. Carol was understandably devastated. It was agreed upon that you would all start looking again tomorrow morning when it was light out as it’d be nearly impossible to find her at night.
“I’m sure she’s just hiding somewhere, she’s a smart girl,” you tried to comfort Carol as you walked through the woods the next day, heading back to the highway with the rest of your group, minus T-Dog and Dale who were keeping watch at the RV, and Shane, Rick, and Carl who had split off on their own. Daryl was leading your group, but so far you hadn’t had any luck. It’d now been almost twenty-four hours since any of you’d last seen Sophia, and usually that wasn’t a great sign.
“Thank you, (Y/N).” She held your hand tightly, and you squeezed back to tell her that you cared. “I know we’ll find her.”
You gave her a comforting smile, but it turned into a frown when a gunshot rang out from somewhere in the distance.
You all looked around frantically. “Jesus,” you whispered to yourself, Carol’s grip on your hand tightening.
“Everybody stay calm,” Daryl said. “It was probably just Rick or Shane.”
It made sense, the gunshot seemed to come from the direction where your two groups had split off. You looked over to Lori who was frozen in shock.
“Maybe we could go back,” you turned to Daryl to suggest, “try to find them and see if they’re okay.”
Daryl looked in the direction of the gunshot, then back at you. “Nah,” he said. “Rick told us to head back and that’s what we’re gonna do.”
You were quite concerned about the gunshot, what with Sophia being lost in the woods and your groups split off from each other, but Daryl was technically in charge now so you respected his decision.
“Okay,” you nodded.
“Come on, y’all, wanna get back before dark.”
It wasn’t long after that you all were accosted by a young woman on a horse wielding a baseball bat. Great, you thought, everything just keeps getting weirder and weirder.
“Lori? Lori Grimes?” she asked your group, a thick southern accent in her voice.
“I’m Lori.”
“Rick sent me, you gotta come now,” the horsewoman said. “There’s been an accident, Carl’s been shot.”
Your jaw dropped, the realization that the gunshot you’d heard earlier must’ve hit Carl.
“He’s still alive, but you gotta come now.”
Lori hesitated a bit, but after a few seconds she joined the strange woman on the horse.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Daryl said, trying to maintain some level of leadership. “We don’t know this girl, you can’t get on that horse!”
“Rick said you have others on the highway, that big traffic snarl?” the woman asked.
“Uh-huh,” Glenn responded, his mouth still agape. Everything was happening so fast.
“Backtrack to Fairburn Road, two miles down is our farm,” she said, starting to turn the horse back towards where she came from. “You’ll see the mailbox, the name’s Greene.”
And with that she took Lori back to the farm.
You’d all spent one more restless night on the highway before making the decision to join the others back at the farm.
It was Daryl’s idea to rig a big sign and a stash of food for Sophia in case she made her way back to the highway, with the intent of coming back to check everyday. You were so impressed with how enthusiastic he was about finding Sophia. He’d already shown tremendous growth since the day you’d first brought him to the quarry. He seemed to be caring for the others in your group more than himself. It was a welcome change.
You all prepared to head off the next morning, and after much convincing, you agreed to accompany Daryl on his motorcycle for the ride to the Greene farm.
“Just… go slow, okay?” you asked as you hesitatingly lifted your leg up to straddle the bike behind Daryl. “I don’t wanna fly off.”
Daryl scoffed as he felt your arms wrap loosely around his torso. “Ya ain’t gonna fly off, crazy woman.” You weren’t sure how you felt about this new nickname—you’d probably prefer “sweetheart” or “honey,” but he called you crazy with such affection in his tone that you had to assume he meant it as an endearing pet name, so you didn’t complain. “You’ll be fine as long as you hold on ta me.”
“Maybe you could get one of those thingies you put on the back of the bike, kind of like a backrest?”
He turned his head to look at you. “You mean a sissy bar?”
Your eyes widened. “Is—is that really what it’s called?” you asked genuinely.
His lips quirked up a bit. “Mhm.”
Without warning, the engine roared to life, causing you to jump a little and wrap your arms more tightly around Daryl.
He let out a loud whistle and twirled his arm around in the air to signal that he was ready to lead the caravan.
The ride wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be. Daryl had gone pretty slow for the most part, except for a few times when he sped up quickly just to get a reaction out of you. Every time he did so, you gave him a pinch in his side to signal that you didn’t like it, so he’d slow down again, then speed up soon after to tease you. You secretly liked it when he went fast, and he secretly liked it when you pinched him, the both of you always smiling when it happened.
Despite all the terrible things that had befallen your group in the last few days, you two seemed to bring out the best in each other. Being around you made Daryl almost forget about everything that was wrong with the world, but he never let himself completely forget lest he lose his grip on reality.
You could see that he was becoming an essential part of your group, and Rick and Shane were becoming more and more trusting of him. It made you so proud to see him join the ranks of leader, even though he didn’t see himself as one. You thought he was just as good a man as Rick, and that was saying something.
You were relieved to rejoin the group once you reached the farm. Now that you weren’t split up anymore, you weren’t as vulnerable.
As soon as you laid eyes on the Victorian style farmhouse, you were smitten. It was like a scene from a Thomas Kinkade painting, the ones your mother always had hanging up around the house back in Virginia, only much less kitschy.
Getting off the bike, you were happy to hear that Carl was going to be all right. The old man who owned the farmhouse, and the father of the woman you’d seen yesterday on horseback, was a doctor named Hershel. Well, a veterinarian. In any case, he knew how to perform surgery. He was able to get the bullet out of Carl, but he was still weak.
Apparently the man who’d accidentally shot him, Otis, was a resident at the Greene farm. He’d led Rick and Shane there when he realized he’d shot Carl. Shane and Otis went to get some necessary medical supplies for Hershel to perform surgery, but Otis had lost his life to walkers in the process.
A lot had happened in such a short amount of time, but that was becoming more and more common these days. Time seemed to be condensed, days started to feel like weeks. Every moment was incredibly important now. That was something you’d been realizing since this whole thing started.
That night you began setting up camp with the others. Hershel informed Rick that he didn’t want anyone besides Carl staying in the house, but he was all right with your people camping out on his property until the boy recovered and Sophia was found.
You were struggling to set up your tent when Daryl came up to you, having already set up his tent.
“You’re fast,” you said, beginning to assemble the tent poles, albeit sloppily. Tents always frustrated you.
“Ya know, you don’t have to do that,” he said.
You stopped what you were doing. “Gotta have a tent.”
“Yeah, but…” he looked down and began rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, “you uh… you can stay in my tent. With me. If ya want.”
You were completely caught off guard.
Sure, you knew that you and Daryl were basically a couple now, but you didn’t think he’d want to share a tent with you. He liked his privacy, you knew that from the fact that he’d set up his camp away from the others, and he always preferred hunting and doing most things alone. You assumed he’d want his own tent for now, too.
“Really?” you asked, a hint of a smile forming on your face.
“Mhm,” he nodded. “That way ya won’t have to keep fumbling around with that thing.”
You rolled your eyes. “Actually, I was doing just fine until you showed up,” you teased him.
“So… what d’ya say?”
“Daryl,” you began, rising from the ground and walking up to him to hold his hands in both of yours, “I’d love to move in with you.”
He scoffed, “If that’s what ya wanna call it.”
“It is,” you said.
“Fine, already made room for ya.”
He’s so sweet, I could die.
“How thoughtful,” you turned to pick up your pack and your camping gear, but Daryl had already started picking up most of it with ease.
By the time you’d unpacked everything, Daryl’s raggedy old tent started to actually feel like… home. You’d set up your cot next to Daryl’s to make more or less the size of a double bed. You piled up both of your sleeping bags to make it extra comfortable, and Hershel had lent you all extra blankets and pillows so you were sure to add those too. You purposefully laid the prettiest blanket on top to act as a comforter. It was the most pleasant looking bed you’d had since you left your apartment. You thought you and Daryl could finally get a good night’s sleep on the thing.
You had even organized Daryl’s clothes. He’d thrown them out into messy piles, but you decided to fold them and sort them into categories—shirts, pants, shoes, socks, and underwear. You sorted your things similarly, although you had much more variety. You still had one dress left that you were determined to keep in good condition, so you kept that separate (and kept the slip you’d found on the highway underneath it so it’d still be a surprise to Daryl when you’d wear it).
Dale even let you borrow one of his camping tables. You set it next to the bed to put your books, weapons, and lantern on it for easy access, and of course your geode too.
“Perfect,” you sighed to yourself after having unloaded and organized everything.
It was dark out when Daryl came into the tent to see what you’d done with the place. He’d been busy talking to Rick and Shane for a while about continuing the search for Sophia.
“Wow,” he said, his eyes circling the room. “You did all this?”
You stood up from the bed where you’d been reading by the light of the lantern. “Yep,” you said. “I hope you don’t mind I sorted out your things a little.”
Daryl looked over to the folded sets of clothing on the opposite side of the tent. “Not at all, be easier to find everything.”
You smiled, “Oh, good.”
The both of you were silent for a while, not knowing what to do now.
“Do you like the bed?” you asked, unsure of what else to say. You weren’t used to living with someone else.
Daryl waked from his thoughts. “Uh, yeah,” he said, his eyes scanning over the bed. “Ya did a good job.”
Then you realized maybe Daryl wasn’t ready to share a bed yet. “We don’t have to sleep together—I mean sleep in the same bed, if you don’t want to.” Your voice was shaky with nerves.
Daryl’s cheeks started heating up. “It’s fine,” he said. “Makes sense, better for keepin’ warm anyway.”
You nodded in agreement.
“Well, uh, I gotta go take watch.”
“Okay, I’ll be here.”
Daryl took a few tentative steps towards you and planted a chaste peck on your lips. “Go to sleep, don’t wait up for me.”
You did not go to sleep.
You did, however, get into bed, but you couldn’t sleep. Images of Sophia running through the wilderness being chased by walkers flooded your restless mind. Not so distant memories of your camp being attacked and the CDC going up in flames kept replaying over and over again, threatening to haunt your sleep in the form of nightmares.
Tossing and turning, you finally heard the door of your tent unzip; Daryl was done with his watch.
You tried to close your eyes and pretend to be asleep as Daryl climbed into bed next to you.
“I know you ain’t asleep,” he said quietly.
You couldn’t help but smile at his gravelly voice you’d come to find so much comfort in. Turning your body towards his, you came face to face with him as he adjusted his pillow.
“Nothing gets past you, does it?”
“Nah.”
You began playing with the short messy hairs that framed his face. “How was watch?”
“Boring,” he said. “Gonna start looking for Sophia again tomorrow mornin’. Rick said that old man’s got a map of the area, should help us organize the search.”
Your eyes widened. It was the best news you’d heard yet regarding Sophia. “Do you think I could come along? I’d like to help.”
Daryl brought his hand up to yours and gently caressed it with his calloused fingers as you kept combing through his hair. “Guess so, we need as many people as possible lookin’ for her.”
“You still think we’ll find her?”
“I know we will.”
You leaned in to give him a sweet kiss, and when you were about to pull away he pulled you back in, bringing his free arm around you and sinking his hand between the soft tresses of your hair. His kiss became more impassioned as you moved your hand to his neck and then down to his shoulder. Soon you felt his tongue tenderly grazing your bottom lip, silently asking permission to enter.
Parting your lips, his tongue breached your entrance and began passionately searching for your tongue. When he found it, you returned his affections and your two tongues started dancing sweetly, his taking the lead. It was both a gentle and incredibly hungry kiss, much more passionate than your first.
His hand soon moved down to your neck, his thumb rubbing small circles on the skin beneath your earlobe. You let out a small moan as he added more pressure to the sensitive area. Your hand was now pressed against his chest, finding its way underneath his cotton button-up shirt. You felt his wiry chest hairs, and soon you found yourself twirling them around your fingers.
As you kissed, your tongues still entwined in a sweet embrace, he lowered his hand down to your collarbone, then further still down to the swell of your breast. He seemed to stop there, not wanting to venture further.
Your tongues settled down a bit and he began to slowly tear his lips away from yours, allowing the cool night air to flow into your partially open mouth where his sweet tongue had been. He gently pecked your still parted lips a few more times before moving his hand back up to the back of your head to play with your hair.
“We should sleep,” he panted. “Got a big day tomorrow.”
You brought your hand from his chest up to his scruffy chin to lightly scratch the stubble you thought looked so good on him. He grunted a little in appreciation, eliciting a small giggle from you. “Okay, cutie pie.”
Daryl rolled his eyes. “Ain’t cute.”
“Sure are, cutest guy in the world.” You knew your words were corny, but you couldn’t help it if it was true.
“You’re delirious.” He kissed your hairline. “Sleep.”
He reached over you and turned out the lantern, leaving his arm to drape over your waist and pull you into his chest. You tucked your head into the crook of his shoulder, taking in his earthy scent of tobacco and pine. His entire body acted as a heater as you felt his warmth radiate through his chest to yours. You curled your arm in between your bodies, already feeling yourself beginning to doze off.
~
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Broken Wings
Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader
Summary: You’re a small town girl with big city dreams, set on leaving Knockemstiff and its sheriff behind for good. Lee would do anything to make sure you stay with him.
Warnings: smut, explicit language, consensual sex, slight breeding kink, unprotected vaginal sex, mentions of alcohol.
A/N: This is part 1. Part 2
I want to thank my baby @whateveriwant for your support, ily! I haven’t written anything in more than a month but it feels good to be back to it!!
Knockemstiff, 1957
The crisp air of the night hit your exposed legs when you swung them over the window sill, and a shiver ran down your spine as humidity seeped into your bones.
From your bedroom on the second floor, you could make out the shape of the Sheriff’s car hidden behind the line of trees near your father’s shed, and a bittersweet, faint smile spread on your painted lips. Fastening the clasp from the outside, you climbed down the drain pipes, savoring the thrill of it all one last time.
No more Knockestiff, sneaking out of your bedroom, shotgunning while he patrolled the streets, milkshakes and burgers propped on your things and Johnny Cash playing in the background, drowned by your giggles and his laughs. You wouldn’t get to call the sheriff yours anymore, and you would never spend another moment writhing in pleasure under his warm, soft body.
You loved Lee Bodecker in spite of everything he stood for, but not even the love of your life could keep you anchored to this town. Tomorrow you’d be far, far away, and God himself couldn’t stop you if he tried.
You’d promised your mother that you wouldn’t end up withering away with no chances and no future like she had. Like everyone who was touched by the curse of Knockemstiff did.
“Spread your wings and fly far, far away,” she’d hiccup between sobs each time you’d drag her limp body from the couch to her bed, the stench of alcohol and stale cigarettes oozing out of her skin, “my pretty little butterfly.”
Your mother would have sold her soul to the Devil to see you out of Knockemstiff.
A new beginning awaited you in New York. A job as a librarian, an apartment to share with one of your college girlfriends, a prospect, a future.
Hope, freedom, opportunities.
The pipe creaked under your weight, but you paid no mind to it. Moonshine would have knocked out cold anyone in the house by now.
Scurrying down the gravel road, you found Lee waiting for you, a smug smile on his clean shaven face and a brown paper bag in his arms.
“About damn time, dove. Been freezing my ass over here, waitin’ on ya.”
You flung yourself in his arms, knocking him back against the car’s hood, savoring the musky scent of his cologne one last time.
“Hello, Sheriff.”
His chest vibrated with a fond chuckle, and you looked up to him, trying to etch every line of his handsome face to your memory.
In another life, the adoration in his blue eyes would have changed your mind.
“Missed me?” he teased you, one arm snaking around your waist, holding you flush to his front. The other came up to your face, cradling your cheek in his palm.
You could feel his soft belly against you. His shirts fit tighter now than when you’d started dating, and his stomach was beginning to bulge over his belt buckle.
“More than you can imagine.” you sighed, offering him a weak smile.
Maybe he missed the melancholy in your voice, or maybe he’d made his peace with your mood swings long ago, because he didn’t comment on it, simply placing a soft kiss on your forehead and pushing you back, thrusting the bag in your arms.
“Let’s get inside dove. These streets ain’t gonna patrol ‘emselves.”
The inside of his car was always warm, and smelled like him.
He drove around while you fed him fries, and you talked until your mouths ran dry.
Guilt gripped your heart when he mentioned a future together.
You knew he’d picked a ring, voices spread fast in small towns. He wanted the white picket fence, a pretty housewife and kids.
You were selfish and cruel and revelled in his love and affection for months, knowing damn well you’d never give him what he desired most.
“You okay? You seem distracted.” he quipped, hand squeezing your thigh.
Your conscience screamed at you to talk to him, but your mouth stayed sealed. There were no words to make this easy on him, so you’d make it easier on yourself.
He’d hate you, at first, but he’d move on, find some other nice girl and settle down with her.
She’d be pretty, and good to him, and she’d love him for the rest of her days.
“I’m okay, you know me. My head’s always up ‘n the clouds. College,” you deepened your voice, mocking your father’s words, “makes ‘m kids airheads.”
His eyes crinkled when he laughed. You’d miss the sound.
“I know, my little dove’s always flying higher than the rest of this shitty town.”
It was bitter, really, that the one you loved the most was what kept you chained to the ground, where you didn’t belong.
You were meant for the sky, his little dove, your mother’s butterfly.
Spread your wings, you reminded yourself, and fly far, far away.
-
You swore time flew by faster when you spent it with Lee, and minutes melted into hours, slipping through your fingers.
You wished you had more.
When he pulled over to an all too familiar clearing in the woods, your body acted on its own accord, and you climbed in the back seat like you’d done most nights for months.
Those trees had seen you in all states of undress, fucked in the car or on the hood, on your knees, on your back, on your stomach, with his cock down your throat or in your cunt, his face between your legs or on the crook of your neck.
Everything made you melancholic, everything reminded you about what you were about to give up.
It was selfish, but you’d allow yourself to forget all about the future for the moment being.
Just you and Lee, just a moment longer before reality would inevitably hit you like a bucket of iced water.
You and the love of your life that you’d betray once morning came.
But in the dark, underneath the stars and the moon, he was still yours, and you were his.
“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful baby, God, I’m the luckiest man in the whole world.”
You ignored the guilt once again, and straddled his lap. Grabbing him by his tie, you slanted your mouth against his. He parted his lips with a sigh, resting his back against the seat.
“Fuck, dove, you’re so good to me.” he mumbled, calloused hands roaming over your body.
A moan escaped your lips when his strained cock rubbed against your flimsy undergarments, and you arched your back, seeking more friction to soothe your aching core.
Warmth pooled in your lower belly, and slick gathered in your panties.
You ran your fingers through his hair, and pulled him impossibly close to feel everything, his warmth and his scent, his soft body and his rough hands.
Teeth clattering, bruising touches, heaving chests. The windows were getting fogged up by your hot breaths, and the metal creaked and clattered under your weights.
Desperation and arousal clouded your mind, and you looked at him through half lidded eyes, hoping he couldn’t read into your soul.
“Lee, baby, I need to feel you, I need you inside me,” you whined, unbuttoning his shirt and tugging on his belt impatiently.
You were desperate to feel his cock inside you, to have his hands leave bruises and his mouth leave marks on your skin one last time. Be his, be one in the flesh, one last time.
“So eager, you’d think I was Paul Newman or somethin’,” he chuckled, kneading the flesh of your ass.
“Much better than Newman, Brando or whatever they worship in Hollywood now.” you panted through sloppy kisses, hand dipping inside his briefs, his weight heavy and hot against your palm.
He hissed through his teeth, eyes rolling to the back of his brain. “What are you butterin’ me up for, dove?”
A beautiful moan escaped his lips when you doubled your efforts, wrist twisting around the velvety skin of his shaft, working his sensitive tip.
“I don’t need flattery to get me anythin’ baby, just these hands and lips.”
You popped your lips to emphasize your point, and let your tongue run along his bottom lip, taking it between yours and sucking on it.
He lifted your shirt with a swift motion, and the growl that he let out when he didn’t find any bra sent a thrill through you, straight to your throbbing core.
He groped your tits, squeezing until the line between pleasure and pain became too blurred to distinguish. You gasped when he rolled and pinched your nipples between his fingers, and mewled when his mouth closed down on one of them.
His tongue swirled around the stiff bud, teeth barely grazing the delicate skin.
A shiver ran down your spine when you felt his hot breath against your neck, and in a blur you found yourself laying on your back, his body caging you in.
“Don’t forget about this pussy, baby, I’d do anything for it.”
Your giggles turned to cries once his hand found its way between your legs, his name falling from your lips like a prayer while he caressed the hair on your mound.
He beamed proudly, feeling the wet patch on your undergarments, and dipped in your folds, spreading the slick around your entrance, rubbing your clit with his thumb.
His lips tasted like candy and strawberry milkshake, and you savored them as long as you could while your tongue intertwined with his.
You laughed when he knocked his head on the door, and then his knees on the floorboard.
“Can’t wait till we have a bed.” He groaned, already breathless while he fumbled with his pants, shoving them down his legs in a hurry.
Sadness filled you again, because one day he’d have a big, comfortable bed, but you wouldn’t be the one warming it.
You blinked away the tears as you clung to his shoulders.
When he breached your entrance, you felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.
You’d never gotten used to the stretch of his girth, and you wondered if anyone else would ever feel this right inside you.
“Fuck,” he groaned, hips stilling once he’s sheathed himself inside you, “God, you’re so tight.”
You felt like you were bursting at the seams, your walls quivering around his cock.
He rolled his hips tentatively, observing your face for any signs of pain, and started pounding inside you once he’d found none.
The burn soon turned into a pleasant ache.
“I’m a lucky bastard,” he snarled, punctuating each word with a rough snap of his hips, “I can’t wait to have you all to myself, dove.”
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, and didn’t notice how your lips quivered, or the tears that streamed down your face. He kept thrusting inside you, moaning each time he would feel your walls gripping his cock tightly.
Damp skin slid over yours, filling the car with the lewd sounds of his balls slapping your ass, and his belly smacking against yours.
“I’m gonna put so many babies inside you, I can’t wait to see you all swollen with my child. Fuck-, I can’t wait to come home to you everyday, my pretty little wife.”
You let yourself revel in the image. A pleasant, safe one. One that didn’t belong to you, but that warmed your heart anyways.
When the pressure in your core became too much for you to bear, you began blabbering and begging him to give you that release only he had ever given you.
“Please Lee, I need to- need to cum, baby.”
You choked on your words and shrieked when his hand dipped between your bodies, and he began rubbing circles around your clit.
“Cum for me, dove, cum all over my cock, wanna feel you fall apart on me baby.” he growled, hips stuttering.
He swallowed your cries with a kiss as you came undone. Your whole body trembled when hot waves of pleasure shook your limbs, the tight coil in your cunt unravelling all at once, releasing the pressure inside you.
You throbbed and gushed around his cock, arching your back and digging your nails in the flesh of his back.
He kept pounding inside you, riding your aftermath and praising his good girl through shuddering breaths.
“Fuck, I’m close,” he whined, and you felt his movements become errantic and his cock swell inside you.
“Finish up outside,” you managed to wheeze out.
He grunted, but obeyed regardless.
Knocking you up before he got a preacher’s blessing wouldn’t look good on his resume if he was to ever be mayor. Otherwise you’d have had a child on your hip already, you suspected.
You winced when he pulled out, and stood on his shins, hovering over you, brows furrowed, sweat dripping down his forehead.
You brought your hand down to his cock, and you stoked him once, twice, running your thumb over his slit before his hips stuttered and he painted your stomach with his white, warm load.
He collapsed next to you, holding you tight in his arms and catching his breath.
“You’re gonna be all mine soon, dove,” he whispered in your ear, rubbing his nose against yours, “and I’m gonna fill your pussy up every night, I swear. No more pulling out ever again.”
-
Freedom tasted bittersweet.
Corn fields gave way to tarmac too soon, and before you realized it, you’d left Knockemstiff and your old life behind, in hope of a new, better one
You rested against the window, your head rattling on the screen with each bump on the road. The stench of stale cigarettes, moonshine breath first thing in the morning and sweat filled the packed bus, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.
The prospect of your future terrified you and thrilled you to no end.
You observed the cars speeding past the bus, and the streams of dried tears on your face in your reflection. Your mind swirled with thoughts, the images of Lee torturing you. Sighing to yourself, you clutched the handkerchief that the woman besides you had gently offered with a kind, knowing smile on her face.
Better forget all about him as soon as possible.
New beginnings were hard, but hope blossomed in your chest with each mile that went by. Besides, your mother’s smile when she’d waved you goodbye had given you all the strength you needed.
You let the gentle sway of the bus lull you to sleep.
She’d never looked so happy and beautiful, bathed in dawn’s warmth with her Sunday dress she’d worn to see her biggest wish come true.
Her butterfly had finally spread her wings.
-
Part 2 (hopefully coming out tomorrow)
-
So what do you think is going to happen in the next chapter? 🤭
I hope you liked it! I haven’t written in so long, but I hope it’s good. Please leave some feedback if you can, and reblog!
#sebastian stan x reader#lee bodecker x reader#sebastian stan x you#lee bodecker x you#sebastian stan fanfiction#lee bodecker x y/n#dark!lee bodecker#dark lee!bodecker x reader#the devil all the time
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Pet
summary: you're his perfect weapon
pairing: karl heisenberg x fem!reader
warning & content: master/slave dynamic if you squint, oral sex (male & female receiving), unprotected sex, daddy kink, slightly possessive heisenberg?
word count: 1.7k
a/n: it just hit me that the other heisenberg fic i'm working on maaay work as a prequel to this one, so if you're interested in reading that, let me know. happy reading! and @theeerealpunkin, this is for you xD
When you wandered into that junkyard, you were nothing but a helpless little girl, orphaned, battered and bruised, weak and on the brink of death. It was honestly a miracle you made it so far, but he took pity in you, took you under his wing, taught you how to survive in such a cruel world, and turned you into a weapon. A lethal weapon. To the other lords, you were Heisenberg's rabid dog, and no one dared to lay a finger on him while you were there to guard him, but to him, you were his favourite pet. Obedient little thing, you would steal for him, kill for him and die for him, should he ask you to do it. But he never did, and never will, because in his heart, whatever was left of it, he cherished you.
The dynamic you two had was... strange, to say the least. He was your master, and you never questioned his authority, but the difference between you and his mindless minions was that you willingly gave yourself to him, mind, body and soul, no brainwashing needed. Still, Heisenberg knew that, should you ever turn against him, you could kill him without breaking a sweat, so he made sure to show how much he appreciated you, rarely ever treating you badly. In fact, he always considered you his equal, despite your personal choice to submit to him. And he didn't mind. By the gods, he didn't mind it one bit. To see such a powerful being as yourself whimper and writhe under him, begging for more, aching to please him, these things only made Heisenberg adore you. And he couldn't deny he was drunk on the fact that he had so much power over you, someone who could literally destroy him. But what could you do? You loved him. You loved to please him.
"Crawl to me, pet." He orders, and you comply, kneeling in the doorway, placing your hands on the floor. You were exquisite, down on all fours, dragging your knees across the cold metal, eyes on him, always on him. You crawl under the table, resting your head on his thigh as he pats you head. "Atta girl. Daddy's had a long day, gonna help me feel good?"
You eagerly nod, fingers immediately fumbling with the buckle of his belt. He chuckles, watching you struggle with the damned thing, but he won't lift a single finger to help you. Drool pools under your tongue when you feel how hard he is, and you finally undo the blasted buckle, releasing his cock from its confinements.
"Please..." You whisper, head tilted, breath tickling his glistening tip, but you don't dare to taste him unless he tells you to.
"What's that?"
"Can I have it? Please?"
He would love to humiliate you, but the fact of the matter is that he can't wait any longer.
"Have it all." Heisenberg gives you permission and you don't even thank him, tongue already swirling around the tip of his cock. This isn't the first time you do this, but he just can't get enough of you. He's been with other women before, even after he met you, but none of them were you. You hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head with a frantic pace, sloppily sucking and slurping and moaning. "Fuck, that's right, take it all." Heisenberg pushes your head down, depriving you of air. When he removes his hand, you pull away, gasping for air with teary eyes, but as you lean back, he stops you. "I'm feeling generous today. Get on the table."
You don't question his command, but you can't help but feel slightly confused. It's not unusual for him to fuck you, you just weren't expecting him to do it so soon.
"How do you want me, daddy? Bent over?" You purr, stretching your arms on the table.
"No, no, lay on your back."
Nodding, you turn around, tugging at your skirt and letting it fall to the floor as you lift yourself on the table. Heisenberg removes his leather gloves as you patiently wait, and he finally turns to you, jacket and shirt discarded, planting kisses on your inner thigh.
"I'm feeling very generous today." He sneers before dipping his head between your legs, and you want to protest, but you can't, because you never question him. You feel his tongue dragging over your slit, sending chills down your spine. This is definitely a surprise, since he's never given your pussy this kind of attention, but you can't deny how good it feels, the way he's lapping at your cunt like a famished man, his beard tickling your oversensitive skin. You throw your head back, chanting his name over and over again, thighs trembling from the stimulation.
"F-fuck, 's good! Daddy, this feels so good!" You mewl, your juices mixed with his saliva dripping down your ass. In the heat of the moment, you dare to card your fingers through his salt and pepper hair, hips bucking against his mouth. You can feel his grin against your skin, because no matter how much Heisenberg likes to use you for his own pleasure, he adores to see you break from the bliss. And as much you would love to come on his tongue, you need something to fill your aching cunt. "P-please fuck me, I need to feel you, please please please!" You cry out, propping yourself on your elbows to look at him — and, boy, he looks incredible, with your arousal and his spit dripping down his beard, so focused on making you feel good. Heisenberg pulls away giving your pussy a good slap, which makes you jolt up. He takes a step back, taking a good look at you — legs spread, eyes glossy and lidded, tits out of your half-buttoned shirt — a sight for sore eyes.
"I haven't even fingered you yet. Think ya’ earned it?" He tilts his head and you nod like a broken puppet, pushing your hips closer to the edge of the table.
"Yes, yes, please, daddy! Use me, use my cunt!" You mewl, and he digs his fingers into the plush of your hips, turning you around.
"Act like a bitch in heat, get fucked like a bitch in heat." Heisenberg doesn't hesitate to push his cock between your folds after lifting one of your legs on the table. Inch by inch, he bottoms out, and like a good girl, you throw your head back, mouth agape and tongue poking out.
"Just l-like t-that!"
"Shit, you're so tight." He can't help but be astonished that after so much time of using and abusing your cunt, it always feels like it's the first time. It could be because you're not technically a human anymore, or because he's just so fond of you. When he pinches one of your nipples, you automatically lift your ass, bucking against his hips, clenching around his cock and moaning his name. But the pleasure engulfing your entire body makes it difficult for you to prop yourself on your arms, and so you let yourself fall on the wooden table. Fingers gently brush through your locks before Heisenberg yanks you by the hair, pushing his chest against your back to feel you closer.
"Tell me, Y/N, who do you belong to?" He sneers into your ear, breath fanning over your skin.
"You, I belong t-to you!"
"Good. And there's no way in hell anyone else gets to touch you the way I do."
"N-no one, daddy! I'm yours- oh, fuck! Please, let me see you..."
"You wanna look into my eyes when you come on my cock, you little slut?"
"Mhm!" You can barely speak, his thrusts numbing your brain.
Heisenberg doesn't reply, only pulling out to grant you your wish while turning you around. His elbow pushes your leg to the side, despite not needing to, since you're already eager to take him back in. He slips his cock in with so much ease, and you just know you were made for him.
"Better?" He quirks a brow at you, green orbs burning into your soul.
"Yes, t-thank you!" You don't forget to show him just how much you appreciate his kind gesture, your trembling hand cupping his cheek.
The gesture is so tender that he can't help but sigh at the touch. Heisenberg doesn't want to give you the impression that he cares that much, because if he does — if he cares — you'll only become a weakness. And he can't afford to be weak, can't afford to lose you. The man slaps your hand away, gripping your hips so hard your skin begins to bruise, fucking you deeper, harder, pace so brutal the table begins to slide on the metal floor. The pain you're feeling is nothing compared to the pleasure, and so you wrap your legs around his waist, digging your fingernails into his shoulders, earning a hiss out of him. You can feel your orgasm building up, culminating in the sweetest release. He's close, too, you feel it in the way his cock twitches against your spongy walls, so drag your nails over his skin, pulling him closer to you. He smells of oil, liquor and cigarettes, and it's so intoxicating and addictive you come undone.
"F-fuck, I love you! I love you so much!" You melt under him, muscles relaxing. Your confession has him reach his climax, and with a few final thrusts, he spills his seed into your cunt. Not that it would matter since the parasite that turned you into a weapon made both of you infertile. Heisenberg slowly pulls out, careful not to cause you any discomfort. You're still a quivering mess on his workbench, and he hands you a towel, his way of showing that he cares.
"Does it bother you that I don't love you back?" He lies. You tilt your head, scrunching your nose as you wipe yourself clean.
"Hmmm, no, not really. You are my master, after all, and I'm your pet."
Heisenberg doesn't speak, focused on getting dressed. You're his pet, but you make him want to live another day. You make him want to destroy Miranda and break free. You make him smile, and laugh, and you make him feel human again. He turns on his heels, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before planting a soft kiss on your forehead.
"That's right, you're my pet."
#karl heisenberg#karl heisenberg x reader#karl heisenberg x you#karl heisenberg x y/n#karl heisenberg smut#resident evil#resident evil village#resident evil 8#re village#resident evil fanfic#resident evil x reader#resident evil smut#female reader
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