#tumblr might finally burn to ground
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STRANGERS
Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love
Freezer bride, your sweet divine
You devour like smoked bovine hide
How funny, I never considered myself tough
summary: you've won the hunger games, and ready to return home in peace, but president snow has other plans for you, and he won't take no for an answer.
pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader
warnings: MDNI!, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, heavy drinking, non-con male masturbation, non-con oral sex (m receiving), roses ( pls let me know if i forgot any!)
notes: im new at publishing on tumblr so pls be patient with me! also new at writing in second person POV so sorry for any mistakes! hope u enjoy! there will be more parts coming soon!
Blood splatters onto your face.
"Please," He mouthed underneath you, but the knife was plunging down anyways. You couldn’t hear it.
The crunch of a sternum bone.
Silence. Cold silence rang in your ears and you blinked climbing off of the body a distant boom rupturing around the arena, but you only felt to shake of it, the sudden vibrational change in the air. You looked around the sun blaring down onto you as you turned away from the dead boy, you stumble forward, knee giving out from under you before you collapsed to the ground rolling onto your back staring upward. The blood oozed from the wound on your leg, it stung, it stung harshly, but it was welcomed.
It was over. Everything. It was over and all you were met with was blood stained hands and silence. You could smell the rot forming in your soul.
Boots were pounding into the ground, surrounding you, guns pointing at your body. Hands wrapped around your biceps pulling you, dragging you out of purgatory and into the looming light ahead.
~
"Congratulations." He whispered placing the small crown on your head, a dainty gold thing, his hands lingering too long on a wisp of your hair. The games had cut off your tongue it seems words never rising to the surface. His hand was under you chin, "Smile. You've won." It felt like a command so the corners of your mouth tugged up as the camera flashed upon you, shaking hands with your esteemed president.
"Thank you." His jaw ticked at your slip, the lack of his title, but he shook your hand anyways as Lucky Flickerman’s crew zoomed in for their close up. The motions were clear, set into place as you read the prepared words off the telecom. If you could get through this then you could return home where it was simple and safe. You would be okay once the Capitol train dropped you off in District 6 where you can happily watch it all disappear forever.
A hand slid to the small of your back, your spine locking up as another photo flashed of the two of you. Your smile stumbled as his shoulder pressed into yours heat pouring off of him where your bodies collided.
You met his eyes, face half turned towards each other, and your cheeks burned with a flush.
The only good thing about winning was finally eating and drinking real food again.
You downed cups and flutes of any alcohol you could find shoved into your hands drowning out the sound of people talking, congratulating you. It was cruel really how when the film of a camera was replaced it sounded like small bones cracking, so your drank more. Why were they so thankful? They arranged for you to be there...they sent you to either die or kill for them. Because some great-great grand-whatever rebelled, so now you had to live with the consequences of someone else actions.
Your brain was beyond heavy, mouth no doubt stained red from the wine. One more day, one more day and you would be going home to die of hopefully natural causes some other time. One more day and you would be out of this hateful city, away from theses entitled, hateful people. You felt it then, the dryness in your throat, the angry water welling in your eyes. You set the empty cup down, stumbling away from the party silent tears beginning to unwarrantedly roll down your cheeks. You gripped the railing as you climbed the stairs towards the mansion doors needing to hide away from the world, and when you reached the top you pushed it open harshly. The heels of your shoes clicked on marble floor in an empty hallway, a door slamming shut behind you as you kept moving. The hallway was spinning like you were stuck in a concrete mixer turning and turning and turning.
You tripped over your foot catching yourself by throwing a hand out to the wall, collapsing onto a small cushioned bench. The groan left your mouth as you slid out of your shoes feet aching, you felt the long gash of the scar the District 2 tribute had given you. It was taking a while to fully close, the wound on you soul would never heal either it seemed.
More tears. More anger.
"You should be celebrating." The cold, calculating voice cut through the air.
You could only roll your head upward, too drunk, too ashamed to be afraid at the surprise. Fresh tears rolled down your cheek. "I did."
Footsteps were coming towards you, slow, like the wolf hunting a doe, and that was when your body alerted, when he had stepped into your space, head snapping towards him. He looked as calm and collected as his tone, a rich black suit fitted to his lean body, a hand lazily in his pocket as his legs bracketed in your knee. "Then why are you in here? I have a whole party out there for you and you hide away in my home.”
"Too noisy." You stared up at him with red rimmed eyes as he towered over, your vision fuzzy at the corners.
His knuckle came up to your cheek collecting the tear freshly traveling down makeup covered skin. "You should be celebrating." He repeated the moisture glistening on his bone. "Not crying."
You sniffed, your voice cracking from crying, "Sorry sir."
"Mr. President." He corrected.
"Sorry, Mr. President sir." You cleared your throat offering him a fake smile.
His hand came under your chin, a pinky resting on your jaw his thumb tracing puffy, wine stained lips, "That's a good girl. Too much wine I suspect hmm?" You only nodded as he held you face, held your life with it too. You might have won his games, but he could still ruin everything, ruin the little family left back home. He had always made that clear to everyone; it wasn’t a shock people started dying soon after they crossed him.
"Yes. Mr. President, sir.” For some reason another tear slipped out with a wide eyed blink.
"You look so pretty when you cry." He traced over your lip one more time gently pushing in until the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. You heard the wet noise of his lips parting, as he took a quiet deep breath your teeth grazing his skin. Then he popped it out, bought it to his mouth, sucking gently on your leftover wine. "Come." He wrapped his arm around your bicep pulling you to your feet in front of him. "Let's get you some food, introduce you to some more friends of mine, and then bed." Two hands stroked down your hair holding your head between his palms. "How does that sounds my little victor?"
A dark gaze lingered in his eyes that there was no way around what he wanted, no telling him no. So you let him bend down and slip your shoes back on keeping your face towards the opposite wall. ”Yes Mr. President, sir.” His hand lingered too long on your bare ankle before he rose.
He smiled, a snake like gleam in it, like he had finished wrapping his body around his victim to suffocate it. One more day, and then you were done. He could introduce you to whoever he liked, feed you whatever he wanted, but come tomorrow on that beautiful train ride home the Capitol, the games would be a distant traumatizing memory, and he would just be a face on a screen come next year.
He plucked the white rose off the front of his suit jacket, took the pin out, and tucked it behind your ear to sit prettily in your hair.
His hand wrapped around your waist causing you to grip his forearm to stumble out into the party once more. Your eyes scanned the party, catching on a young girl, the winner from District 4. Her name started with an M, but you couldn’t find the rest of it in you hazy brain. The only thing you could focus on was the sad frown etched upon her pretty face as President Snow dragged you through his party.
6 months later
You wiped dirt off on your pants standing up to admire the blooming garden spread out in front of you. A smile flittered onto your face for only a moment before it fell staring at the wilting leaves on top of wet soil. They had fallen no doubt during a weeding or pruning or plain decay, but they were there ready for the earth to absorb them for nutrients.
Did the arena absorb their decaying bodies too or were they flown away somewhere else? Did they go back to their families so they could rest in peace?
You shook the thought grabbing gardening tools and the water can heading back to the house. Time was helping, the white noise of the district was helping, the trains going by were helping. The only reminder you had ever been carted away...well that and the large sum you had been gifted upon winning. You decided to ration it, save it but comfortably. It was the only thing truly stopping you from drowning yourself in alcohol or morphling, and the disappointed look your father had given you when they had carried you off the train, too wasted to walk. You took up gardening soon after the initial withdrawing, rotting period needing to keep you hands, your mind busy.
The scent of vanilla hit you as soon as you entered the house your body freezing on the threshold. It was a warm vanilla scent, which meant your mother had made tea, which meant there was company. You set your tools down, peeling off you mud stained boots. Your mother laughed as you slowly continued down the hall, the sound muffled by the kitchen wall you had yet to curve around to enter the kitchen. Alarms shot off in your head, the hair on your neck standing up knowing it wasn't anyone from District 6.
"Mother." You called seeing the outline of her at the table.
"Darling." Your mother smiled as you turned the corner, eyes flitting over to the man across the table from her sipping on his tea. A fresh bouquet of white roses sat in a new vase at the center of the table. "We have a guest."
"Mr. President." Your mouth dried out, feet heavy, gluing you to the middle of the kitchen. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Your mother only stood up rushing towards you, taking your hands to sweetly drag you to the table. "Come sit, my darling bluebell." She forced you into an empty chair around the modest circular table, a plaid green table cloth covering it. You kept eyes on him as she poured tea into the only empty cup. Once the kettle was down she discreetly tried to wipe dirt off your face, "Always covered in something from your little garden."
President Snow mouth quirked up. "Garden?"
You only managed a nod. ”It was a small little thing, something to help…” Her eyes dropped, “Something to keep her busy, and well before you knew it it had taken up most of the lawn." Another discreet pat on the cheek. "I have never been more proud than when I see her out there working on it." She chuckled, "Well besides when you put the tiara on her head." You inwardly cringed at the word tiara, at the reminded of what had been done to earn it.
"My grandmother grew roses." He motioned to the red one he worse pinned to his blue suit. His eyes met yours, "Do you?" A small nod as steam swirled up from the tea that would never be drank, "May I see them?"
Your mother stood up answering, "Of course." Her hands came upon you shoulders, "Go change and show our lovely President." You pushed the chair back using it as an escape for the moment, "Wash your face, and put on that pretty blue sun dress." You didn't answer, only walked back down the hall to your room finally able to breath normally away from his suffocating presence. What was he doing all the way out here? You had figured, had clung, to the fact you would never have to see him, or the Capitol again, and now he was here invading your home.
After washing your shaking hands and face, digging the dirt out of your nails, and braiding your hair back did you put that stupid sundress on and walk back out. Your mother was standing by the door a forced smile on her lips, "Yes sir, no sir." She reminded you, pulling small tendrils of hair loose around your face. "Don't speak unless spoken to."
"I know." You told her, forcing her hands away from your face reciting what your father and mother had both instilled in you. "I am grateful for what you've done for us President Snow."
"Mr. President Snow, sir." She pinched your cheeks to give them color then let you step around her and out of the house.
He was standing near the edge of the garden just before the walkway split separating each sections. "It truly does take up most of the lawn." He smiled holding out his arm for you. You slowly allowed him to hook it under his elbow to lead down the walkway. "It smells divine."
"Thank you." You swallowed, "Mr. President, sir."
He only smirked, "Your mother raised a well mannered woman."
You offered him a shy smile, ”My father and mother always instilled proper etiquette as best as they could. They emphasized respect and dutifulness."
"Important traits to have." He agreed. He was Capitol, he was the president, no doubt relishing in the fact district folks weren't born with those traits, they had to have it beat into them.
His hand clamped around yours, trapping it in his arm. Your breaths shook, don’t stutter. "My roses are just this way." You motioned up the path for him to lead in that direction.
The rose bush could have looked better, but it had always been a work in progress, a difficult flower to manage, and your heart had never truly been fond of roses. Red and yellow seeds were the only color you could acquire so the colors sometimes missed their mark or died all together. “Troublesome for you?” There was no hiding the disappointment in his tone.
“Yes.” An embarrassed response. "I'm tempted to rid myself of them."
"Hmm," He stepped forward fingers running along the soft petals. "I have a garden full of white roses, I brought some for you today."
You gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I'm sure my mother adores them."
"They're for you, not her." He flatly told you a sneer on his face. "A gift of sorts to my favorite little victor." He smirked down at the bush plucking a perky red rose from its stem. "Or what did she call you?" He turned back towards you, "Her darling bluebell?"
The blush bit at your cheeks, "Thank you. Mr. President sir." He smiled deeply tucking the stem of the rose behind your ear rooting it into the braid. "They are lovely." I lied. The scent of roses overtook the air to the point you felt dizzy with it, felt them swallowing you whole like he did.
"I do hope your mother won’t mind looking after it all.” He sighed his hand running down your arm as blood drained out of you, the question sitting leaden in your mouth. "We're trying something new, something Dr. Gaul believed would bring good publicity to the games." You chewed on your cheek, biting the refusal back. You remembered hearing about her death a year or two ago. "A victory tour of sorts." Both hands were on your arms holding you in front of him, "You'll go district to district letting them celebrate you and then finish at the Capitol. I'm going to throw you another party."
Oh
His hand came under your chin tilting your face up to him, "How does that sound my little bluebell?"
"Okay." You whispered because it was what was supposed to be said to him.
He beamed, "Such a good girl." His smile fell, "Since this is the first time we're doing it I'll be going with you of course to make sure everything goes smoothly."
Ice coated you. How long would this be? Would he ever let you remain in peace? Would the garden wither and die in the time you would be gone? Why did he stare like that?
You only nodded the obedience in your spine locking into place.
It wasn't horrible. The train was comfy and reminded you of home, the rumbling sound it made, the smell of the smoke and gasoline, the horn blaring through the night. They had written words, of course, to say at every district, reciting from a script how sorry you were for their losses and how thankful you are for the Capitol and their generosity. President Snow talked the most which was ironically a godsend since you didn't want to speak at all.
Mostly, there was food, tons of food...and wine.
You more self-indulgent habit to make the time go by smoother. Even more so now because you could, because it was free, because your parents weren't here to shame you. You would stop once you got home; you had done it before. When the tour was over, you would stop, you would go back home, relish in the normalcy, the garden, where it was safe. Where no one could find you.
Snow wouldn't be on the train ride home.
It unnerved you that he was here simply a few train cars down, eating, sleeping, plotting murder no doubt, planning more games. It only made you swig from the bottle more to shove the anxiety down.
You had crawled in the train car window, a comfy seat under it, curling you feet under you to watch the night blur past. Each bump comforted you, like you were in the older train cars carting people around the district. The moon wasn't out making any outline impossible to see, so you closed your eyes, pretending to hear the bustling square at home. You took another drink of wine savoring the lazy feeling coating your body.
The door slid open no doubt an Avox coming to do some chore, so you didn’t even bother to look. "You didn't come to dinner." Your head snapped up seeing Snow standing in the door a tray of food in his hands, "They said you only grabbed a bottle of wine and left."
"I wasn't hungry." Not a lie, you had felt ill since leaving District 9 the tributes faces beginning to gnaw at you once more. You had survived, and they hadn’t, and it felt wrong. "Mr. President, sir."
He wasn't wearing his normal suit instead a pair of dress pants, and a starched white button up, the top two buttons undone. His immaculate blonde hair was slightly mused a stray curling piece falling onto his forehead. "Come eat with me." You weighed the options before unfolding your legs out and turning to slid off the sill. You tugged at the nightgown they had shoved in the closet for sleep, a soft thin robe covering your shoulders over it. They hadn’t allowed you to bring any clothes from home. His eyes glanced up your body as you pulled it tighter around you.
"Excuse my appearance Mr. President, sir." You sat down across from him.
"No need." He only smiled as he pushed the tray. "Do you like the train?"
You nodded picking at the food, "It reminds me of home. We used to live by the test track before it moved, and it used to rumble the house. I used to hate it growing up, but now it seems to have grown on me."
"I bet it has." You should enjoy the food more, shovel it down until it was nothing. Your family had never suffered too much within the district not like the others, like 10,11,12... but it wasn't exactly always easy. The Capitol was always cramming food down your throat before and after the games, before you had reveled in it, the after...it tasted like dust in my mouth sometimes. You set the fork down pushing the half eaten tray away, but he only pushed it back. "Eat, please." You began to open your mouth in protest, but his jaw ticked. "Eat." A command, "All of it."
You watched his face, bottom lip trembling at the new tone he was using. It was bound to come out, but you had been so kind, always listened. You slowly began eating again forcing each bite until nothing remained, until your chest was tight with a full stomach. You took a sip of water. Always thank him, your mother had whispered on your way out of the door, Even if you are not thankful.’ “Thank you, Mr. President sir."
"You are so good to me, my little bluebell." He leaned forward the darkness engulfing the blue in his eyes. "Can you do something for me?" You made yourself nod even-though fear was trickling down your skin. He motioned with his head, "Go lie down on the bed."
The color drained from your face, "Wh-What?"
Don't stutter.
You cursed inwardly for the slip. ”Be my good girl and go lie down on the bed." His grin widened, “I won’t say it again.”
By the time your knee hit the bed tears had slipped over, you tried to stop them, but they welled anyways as you turned to look at him. He stalked towards you unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them, so you forced your gaze upward taking in the sounds of rustling. His hands pushed the robe down your shoulders letting it pool onto the bed. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to stop him as his fingers trailed along your bare shoulders, along your collarbones, up your neck. "Spit." He held out his hand. You swallowed, pulling the liquid back up and spit into his palm watching him bring it between his legs. You forced yourself to not look down, not look at what his hand was doing with a large length, to not look as he slid his hand along it. His other hand came up to your face, once again dragging across your bottom lip, pushing his finger further in, hooking it onto your bottom teeth. "Suck on it." He growled. You blinked fresh tears out before letting your tongue poke and lick up his finger, swirling around his knuckle listening to his pants. A cry of protest sat in your lungs, but would it matter? Were you always bound to be at his mercy, cursed to obey his whims to exert his power. “You listen so good." His head fell back a little the small groan hiding the sounds of him stroking himself. “Will you take my cock good too?”
"Please." You whimpered against his hand finding the smallest resistance in yourself at his words. "Please sir...I'm a virgin. I-I don't-!"
He shoved you back onto the bed with a growl his knees straddling your thigh as he pumped his hand faster and faster groaning into the air as two fingers invaded your mouth thrusting along your tongue. You felt violated, but all you could do was lie there and take it, let him do whatever he was doing because you were good, because he was the president and you had to obey. You closed your eyes tears burning your skin on the way his movements shook your body, until finally he stilled warmth shooting over your skin.
You finally breathed as he removed his fingers and stepped away. You lied there, listening to him straighten his clothes back on. "Don't change. Sleep in that." You glanced down at the white clumps running down your nightgown, some even drying to your exposed chest.
He stared at you expectantly. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President, sir.”
His grin was haunting as he left.
The rest of the tour went unbothered. He only occasionally came back to repeat those events, but each time it got a little easier as you began to know what to expect, each time you dared to look a little bit more. Sometimes even getting lost in the way his hand glided across his glistening cock covered in your spit. On the rare nights, you even gazed upward at him, at his hooded eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead, tongue between his teeth. You even began to listen to the noises he made, the heavy grunts, the soft groans and grit of his jaw, his vulgar words at you when his eyes suddenly met yours making you look away with heat in your cheeks.
And then he would cum over your body.
You threw up after the first night only forcing it to stay on your body because he had said so. After that it became easier to withstand the feeling, the warmth, the smell. You realized after a few times it gave off a scent you had only attributed to him, you only knew that because he often stood so close to you. It was so mild and hidden that you could only tell when you brought some close to your nose, and since it was already there you tasted it and you figured his skin might taste like that too.
It was fine, until you finished the tour of District 2. The boy's face stared down at you, and you remembered how it looked covered in blood.
Please!
The crunch of bone.
You could barely get through the reading, crying halfway through before someone had to usher you to the side. Snow was angry; you could see it in his dark eyes but maybe he could find pity. You had been so kind, so good.
It didn't matter by the time he found you curled into the corner of my room you were covered in smeared make up and tears. You couldn't even take off the stupid pink dress they had given you. He stood there for a moment taking you in then he grabbed you by the hair yanking you up onto the bed. Then he reeled back and slapped you across the face so hard your head snapped to the side. "You were very bad today bluebell."
"I-I..."
Another slap the other way. "Don't stutter."
Your cheek was stinging, "I'm sorry." A pause, and then another hard slap stars split your vision. "I'm sorry Mr. President, sir." You closed your eyes waiting for more but then you heard the familiar noise of his pants unbuttoning and your body began to lay itself back like it had registered before you did. He only darkly chuckled as he pulled you back up and shoved you to your knees in front of him, "I know you didn't mean to break the rules. Right?” You nodded, “And why do I know that?”
"Because I'm your good girl, Mr. President, sir." You stared up at him with red cheeks and pouting lips.
He groaned, his hard length pressing against your mouth. You glanced up at him with furrowed brows not knowing how to do what he was asking. “Open your mouth,” You did. “Don’t bite. I'll do the rest." He pushed past your lips, taking ahold off your face and began rocking his hips into you, his cock sliding along your tongue. "Oh fuck," He shivered shoving himself deeper the tip of him touching the back of your throat. You swallowed the gag as he pulled out to slam back into you bring your throat more tears spilling out, spit running down your chin. You squeezed your eyes as he used your mouth for whatever he wanted as he thrusted his cock into your mouth viciously. "Swirl your tongue around it." He hissed and you obeyed running it along the shaft, around the head feeling him stutter his movements, but pick up speed. His hand was rooted in your scalp yanking your face up, pain bubbling up with each abusing stroke, but something else was there too, and you realized his skin didn't taste bad. "You like that? You like when I fuck your mouth?"
You mumbled out incoherently not even sure what your answer was.
He shoved your head back, neck craned against the mattress his hips pinning you as he blatantly fucked into your mouth. ”I wonder what pretty sounds you would make if I fucked you hmm?” His hand bobbed your head against him as you gripped his thighs to hold yourself up as saliva dripped across your chest. "I can't though...too many others want it."
Your eyes shot open just as his thrust turned sporadic and warm liquid shot down your throat. Your face was covered in fluids, covered in drool and cum, dribbling down your chin as he slowly removed himself. ”What?" Your throat was raw and torn.
"I was going to wait to tell you." He sighed tucking himself back in. "But you are very desirable as a Victor, and once you told me you were a virgin...well it made you a lot more desirable." He patted your tears and cum stained cheek, "But you have been so good to me despite this slip up, so I will try to pick someone you will like. Hmm?” You were too stunned to respond. He was selling you to people, selling you to the highest bidder because you had killed a boy. You weren’t even supposed to win everyone had let you know how the tribute from 10 was slated to win, but he got taken out while you were hiding, and they had lost money. Because your life was a bet for them.
"I want to go home." You cried softly his hand cradling your face.
He cocked his head to the side, "Oh bluebell. You can't leave me yet." He stood up and began to walk to the door, "I might just have to keep you."
He left you there on your knees. No he didn't quite taste bad, in fact, you thought maybe you enjoyed the pool of him on your tongue. You cried even harder.
PART TWO here!
(if you care)
#coriolanus snow#fanfic#dark fanfic#dark coriolanus snow#president snow#president coriolanus snow#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus x you#coryo x reader#coryo smut#coriolanus smut#coryo x you#dark fanfiction#smut#coriolanus x y/n#tom blyth#hunger games#the ballad of songbirds and snakes
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*accepting the jason weight scripts like an oscar*
Id like to thank everyone who got me here today, Bernie Burns, Geoff, Gus....All 500 and some of my followers, thats like every single fan of RVB...the author of put my guns in the ground bc of their background grimmons.......Another thank you to the fans bc with out us the entire show would have zero promotion or love bc rooster teeth hates their own first show. A thank you to all the people who were first members who posted entire new episodes to tumblr....Yall really were the best......to anyone who was constantly rooting for red team character development.
we did it yall....this might be as real as it gets, when i read the news in an applebees i felt god in that applebees..........
thank you *starts crying* heres to the final season im still not 100% sure wether we are still getting or not
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Along for The Ride - Part 1
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
Summary: Transported to Middle Earth, you must Join Thorin Oakenshield's Company as they travel to reclaim Erebor! OR: My take on the classic 'modern girl in Middle Earth' troupe. With this first installment, we are following the first movie of The Hobbit trilogy, and falling in love with Kili on the way! Slow burn with this one y'all, nothing spicy till the next work I'm afraid.
Tags: Kili / Reader, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Modern Character in Middle Earth, During The Hobbit, How Do I Tag, Canon-Typical Violence, Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien), wrote this while I had covid, in like 4 days lol, implied soulmates, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Freeform, Holding Hands, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sleepy Cuddles, Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Fluff and Humor, Domestic Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?, Hair Braiding, Dwarf Courting, My First Tumblr Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live, Thorin Oakenshield Lives, Fíli Lives (Tolkien), Kíli Lives (Tolkien)
Word Count: 6,292
A/N: I was utterly appalled by the lack of Kili writers on here and Ao3. Y'all who write for Kili, I've been eating your crumbs like it's the shit (cause it is) for weeks, but one can't be sustained on crumbs alone so I've prepared a feast!! This is the first fic I've ever wanted to post, please be gentle. Comments, Likes, and Reblogs are loved and treasured!!
Tagging the amazing Kili writers I've been living off of for the past few weeks and who have inspired me so they might share in the feast as well lol go check out their stuff too: @mikathemonster, @cowboybeepboop, @littleenglishfangirl, @ethereal-inquisitor, @sweetpeakili
Photo credit: @immawriteyouthings
Divider credit: @cafekitsune
You were having one of those days that made you want to run away from everything. Instead, you walked on the golf course behind your house after hours; no phone, no umbrella, no bag this time, just you. You had what you could fit from your hands in your jean pockets as you walked the grassy field. Something twinkled and caught your eye on the far side of the fairway, there was a sparkle in the ferns. You walked over and began looking through the underbrush. Your hand grazed a smooth stick with a mangled end that encased a gem. You picked it up hoping for a better look but were transported to another world instead!
You appeared in the new world holding the staff. You were standing beside an older fellow with a pointy hat and long grey beard. You looked around and saw many other gruff, burly-looking men sitting in an encampment. They looked as confused as you. You did the only thing you could think of doing at that moment.
You turned around and took off running as fast as you could.
The wizard whose staff you were running away with asked the younger dwarves in his company to fetch you for him. They ran after you as quick as the wind. You dodged trees and hurdled bushes, making an all-around great effort. You were slowing down though. You stopped for a moment to catch your breath and plan. A twig snapped in the distance; quick footsteps closed in on you. You took off again. You needed a place to hide, a moment to think for God's sake. You were afforded no such luxuries. They were gaining, you were tiring. In your drained haste, you tripped on a bush which sent you stumbling and struggling to regain your footing given your momentum. You finally fell and scampered to take cover behind the roots of a great tree. Their footfalls grew slower and drew nearer. They were so close you could hear their words now.
“…She’s hiding, Fili,” one said much closer than you expected them to be.
You tried your best to steady your breathing. Your heartbeat was so loud you knew they could hear it.
“Stop scaring her Kili,” The other chastised. “You know she’s got to be scared half to death”. He walked past you, studying the ground. The other came up the other side of the tree doing the same.
You gripped the staff preparing yourself to be found. They turned in unison following the same tracks and looked up at you simultaneously. They were both panting but not as hard as you. Fili, the elder and more experienced of the two knelt where he stood a few yards from your curled trembling form.
“My name is Fili” He put his hand on his chest and motioned to the man next to him, “This is my brother Kili. We mean no harm to you.” He kept his distance and showed his empty hands. You stayed firmly pressed against the tree trunk, your chest heaving rapidly and your eyes as large as saucers. They could have tackled you, beaten you, or done any number of terrible violating things, but they kept their distance and spoke softly.
“What’s your name?” Kili asked, with a charming smile as he crouched beside his brother.
“Y/N,” you said in a shaky freaked-out tone.
“Y/N, that’s our friend wizard’s staff,” Fili said, “If anyone can figure out how you got here, he can.”
“But you gotta come back to camp with us,” Kili said reaching out his hand as a peace offering. So many horrible things could happen to you in the wild of this new world, but even more on top of that could if you didn’t go with them.
“How can I trust you?” You asked them. They looked at each other.
“How can we trust you?” Kili threw back at you with a suspicious look and recoiled his hand.
“Touche” you nodded returning his look.
“Seems we are at an impasse then,” Fili huffed at his brother, “You want to get home, and our wizard can do that. The only way that can happen is if you come with us back to our camp. We can only offer you our word and promise on our honor as dwarven princes that you will not be harmed by any in our company.”
You thought for a moment and nibbled at your lip, “You promise?” you looked up at Kili this time.
Kili looked you deep in the eyes, and very seriously said: “No harm will ever come to you, on my honor as a prince.”
You nodded at this, “Very well”, and tried to stand up but were stuck against the tree. The 2 men easily lifted you back to your feet. You followed them back to the camp.
You tried your best to hide behind Kili as you approached the wizard smoking a pipe. You peeked from around his shoulder at the other men in the camp. They were looking at you.
“Please sit, my dear,” The wizard said to you, motioning to the rest of the long log beside him “We have much to discuss.”
Your legs wouldn’t move you from behind the dwarf. You were still quite afraid.
“She seems to have taken a liking to you Kili,” the wizard said to him. The rest of the company let out a soft chuckle of agreement. You couldn’t see it from your angle, but Kili smiled and nodded.
“Sit down child, we aren’t going to hurt you,” One of the dwarves sitting across the fire said. You took a deep breath to gather your courage. One false move by any of the others would have you bolting again.
You moved from behind Kili and sat beside the wizard still clutching the staff.
“May I take that from you?” the wizard politely asked. You handed it to him. He explained how this type of thing had happened to a couple of his wizard friends before, but he didn’t know the remedy or spell to undo it or how to prevent it from happening again. You sat quietly listening and nodding. He explained to you and the rest of the company that he was leaving to travel to his friend and inquire about your predicament. In the meantime, he convinced the company and its leader, Thorin you came to know, to keep you in the company as an innocent bystander to help around the camp and whatnot till Gandalf (the wizard) could figure out what to do with you. Gandalf gave you a small sack of coins, instructing you to get a bag, a bedroll, clothes, and any other necessities you’ll need at the next town.
As the fire died down so did the company. They got out their bedrolls and sleeping gear like a synchronized unit and as quickly as they started, they were all asleep snoring softly. Kili had first watch and was sitting on the ground next to you leaning against the log you were on. You slid onto the ground next to him curled with your knees to your chest. He looked over at you. You looked over at him.
“I don’t know what to do now,” you said not hiding the waver in your voice very well, “I’m so scared.” You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You cried into your hands as quietly as possible, so you didn’t disturb and anger the others. If you had looked at Kili, you would have seen him in a slight panic and at a loss for what to do, he didn’t know how to console crying women. You sobbed into your hands knowing you just needed to let it all out then you’d be fine. Kili looked at the fire and put his hand on your back. Physical contact of any kind back home was next to nonexistent, it felt nice to know he was trying his best to comfort you. After a few minutes of uncontrollable sobbing and hiccups wracking through you, you began calming down. When you were able to breathe properly, you wiped your face even though tears kept falling. You sniffled and rested your chin on your knees letting the tears fall silently now.
“Do you feel better?” Kili guessed in a soft tone and rubbed his hand on your back.
You nodded at him, “Yes” You took a deep breath and wiped the tears from your eyes as best you could, “Thank you” You looked at him and smiled a little. He smiled and nodded too, still concerned but returned his hand to his lap. You sniffled and looked at the fire.
“Really though I don’t know what I’m doing,” you said. “I’ve never been camping before,” you paused to think. “I don’t know how to fight or use a sword or make a fire or hunt or-or—” You were working yourself up and starting to cry again. Kili cut you off before you could start sobbing hysterically again.
“WOAH! Woah!!” alarmed, he put his hand on your back again, “It’s ok. Calm down.” he said harshly, “Take a deep breath, that seemed to help last time,” He mumbled the last part under his breath. That made you smile despite yourself.
“You don’t know how to console someone, do you?” You took a deep breath and wiped your eyes. He shook his head and took his hand from you. “Seems we’re both out of our depth then,” you said making the mood a bit lighter.
“In my defense, I was raised in a pack of manly men,” He smiled fondly “It’s a wonder my mother got through to me at all.”
“So, you do have a mother,” you said, making him look at you quizzically “I assumed you were raised by wolves,” You shrugged. He laughed and you couldn’t help but smile.
“You’re not completely wrong about that,” He smiled, looking over at the men across the fire. There was a momentary silence. “We’ll teach you those things, how to fight, how to make a fire, all that,” He looked over at you, “I mean who knows how long Gandalf will be, and you’d have to be pretty stupid not to pick up a thing or two even from this bunch.” You smiled and nodded; this calmed your nerves a little. A moment of silence fell between you again.
“Is it ok if I stay up with you?” you innocently asked, “I’m not very tired.”
“Sure,” he said casually, “May I ask about your life back in your world?”
“OK,” You nodded.
“What do you do?” he asked, you gave him a weird look. “Like for a living, how do you make money, how do you spend your days?”
“I’m a student at university at the moment.” He looked at you confused this time. “I spend my days studying at a desk, it’s boring and dull” You quickly summed up.
“Ooohh,” He said, “No wonder you couldn’t run for shit,” He laughed.
You scoffed, “So rude,” You huffed, failing to hide your smile. He was glad you were cheering up a bit.
“If it’s so boring and dull, why don’t you do something else?” He asked, naive to your world and its ways.
“It’s…complicated” you sighed “I have to study to do what I want to do for work even though I don’t want to work or study or do any of that, but I have to make money somehow because I need money to do stuff and buy things because the world I live in is shitty that way and it’s so frustrating sometimes,” you gritted your teeth to make your point.
“Well, what do you want to do then?” he asked, trying to understand your strange world.
“Sit on the beach,” You said without hesitation “…Listen to the waves…sleep on a blanket in the sun,” you sighed wistfully. “Die happy and rich.”
“That does sound nice” He agreed “I’ve never seen a tropical ocean before, the seas near the Blue Mountains are all frozen over.”
“Surely there’s a beach somewhere in this world,” You refused to believe the universe sent you to a world without a beach.
“There is! I’ve heard stories of Southern Gondor, where the sun makes the sand hotter than forges, and the water falls over the horizon in every direction.”
“That sounds like the beaches from back home,” You felt a little bad for him. You’d been practically raised at the beach because it was the only free thing to do in your hometown.
“May I ask a question?” you asked this time.
“Of course,” He shifted to lean against the log and face you.
“What are you guys doing?” you gestured to the camp around you.
“We are on a quest!” He said proudly, “A quest to take back our ancestral home from the dread dragon Smaug,” he said in a sinister voice. He explained about Erebor and the dragon and Thorin to catch you up. You listened, nodded, and took it all in, asking questions and giggling at his jokes. He was a decent storyteller.
“And I’m just along for the ride I guess,” you said deflated about your role in all this.
“If it’s any consolation, you’re quite good company,” He indulged; Kili always got so lonely on watch.
“Yay!” you said over a yawn, “I’d hate to bore any of you,” you replied, genuinely fearing your stories may never measure up to theirs. You leaned over and laid on the soft grass, curled in a ball with your arm as a pillow. You tried not to shiver from the cool evening breeze. You heard some shuffling of fabric, and then a blanket fluttered on top of you. You looked at Kili who smiled and said: “I’m quite the furnace at night, I’ll be fine without it,” he reassured.
“Thank you,” you said over another yawn. You didn’t expect to fall asleep but the next thing you knew it was early morning and you were awoken by the clanging of pots and spoons. You sat up and looked around to get your bearings.
‘Still in the same strange world’ you thought not fully awake. Kili appeared, greeted you good morning, and handed you a bowl of white goo he called porridge. You thanked him and ate your breakfast in silence like the rest of the company. While the men packed up the camp you were tasked with washing the dishes in a nearby stream. You were struck by the beauty of the incredible woods around you even in the dim morning light. You returned to camp and put the dishes in their bag, which was taken by one of your new companions. You felt out of place without a task among everyone who knew what to do. Balin saw you standing in the middle of the camp looking lost. He asked Thorin what they were to do about their lack of an extra pony for you. They decided you could ride with Kili seeing as he was the lightest (next to Bilbo) and his pony could take the weight and because you seemed the most comfortable with him. The old dwarf with a white-grey beard curled up at the ends approached you with as much of a nonthreatening air as he could muster.
“Good morning, my dear!” He greeted you with a chipper smile. “My name is Balin”
“Good morning,” you replied. “I don't quite know what I’m to be doing,” you said sheepishly.
“That’s ok lass, it’ll come with time,” he reassured, “For now, you’ll ride with Kili so you can see if he needs help getting ready.”
“Ok,” You nodded and started walking in Kili’s direction. You stopped in front of his pony and petted its nose and down its neck. “I’ve been told that I’m to ride with you,” you said timidly looking at him adjust his saddle. Kili looked at you and nodded.
“I’ll be happy to have a lovely conversation again” He smiled and looked back at his saddle, making the final arrangements.
He turned to you and said, “I’ll give you a leg up,” And jabbed a thumb at his pony. You nodded and approached the animal. You put your hands on the ponies back and bent your leg waiting for him to help. He leaned forward so he could whisper in your ear: “Wrong leg”. You blushed quite profusely at that and switched legs. He heaved you with such strength he nearly threw you over the other side of the pony. You made yourself comfortable behind the saddle before he hooked his foot in the stirrup and carefully mounted so he didn’t knock you off.
“You ok?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Yep!” you smiled. He nodded. You were excited to see new lands even though you feared what they harbored.
“If you need to hold on to me when we get going you can,” he said, making you both blush despite yourselves.
A few moments later Thorin called out: “Company ready?” in a deep booming voice, “Aye!” They all replied in unison. “Company, move out!” He bellowed and urged his pony forward. The rest followed behind him one by one. When your animal lurched forward you grabbed Kili's waist for dear life. The company was silent till they got to the end of the forest. You had your cheek pressed against Kili’s shoulder and your chest against his back. The fur of his coat was very soft against your face as you turned your head to look over his other shoulder. You yawned but didn’t realize you did it right next to his ear and breathed down his neck. He determinedly kept his eyes on the pony ahead of him to keep the blush rising in his chest at bay.
“You can take a nap if you need to,” he said over his shoulder in a soft voice for only you to hear.
“That sounds like a good idea,” You yawned again. You buried your face in the soft spare fabric of the hood on his back and cuddled closer to him to rest your head on his shoulder. You closed your eyes and sleep swiftly took you. He knew this because he could feel your breathing slow on the back of his neck. He was happy you could sleep and couldn’t help his smile. You shifted now and then, turning your head one way then a while later turning it the other. Kili tried not to talk or move too much in fear of waking your delicate slumber. By midday, you felt very well rested. You took a deep breath and released your grasp on Kili to stretch your arms above your head, arching your back to wake yourself up. You quickly slipped your arms around him again, so you didn’t fall.
“Good morning!” He chirped, “Well afternoon really,” he corrected with a smile, “Sleep well?”
“Mhm,” You hummed against his shoulder “I haven’t slept that well in a long time,” you said thinking back on the restless weeks before your arrival in Middle Earth.
“Good,” He nodded. “Happy I could be of service.”
“Yes, you make quite the comfortable bed,” you replied.
An easy silence settled between you for a while. You contentedly watched the landscape pass by while he kept the pony on the path.
“What’s a good weapon for a beginner?” You asked knowing you needed to start wrapping your head around the fact that you could be stuck here forever and needed to protect yourself. He thought about that for a few moments.
“I’d have to say a bow,” He shrugged, “I don’t know honestly, lemme ask Fili,” he kicked up his pony to walk faster to be next to his brother. “What is the best weapon for a beginner?” He asked him. Fili glanced at you and thought for a moment.
“Hmm I think a sword would be easiest,” He replied, contradicting his brother.
“A sword?!” Kili said incredulously “No that’s one of the harder ones,” He swatted his hand as if to swipe the words from the air.
Fili scoffed “For you maybe,” he said barely keeping his teasing smile under control “But not to the rest of us, my weapon-challenged brother.” That made you giggle. Kili huffed and pulled his horse back, so he wasn’t beside his brother anymore.
“Are you that bad with a sword?” you asked, trying not to laugh too much.
“No!” he exclaimed, “I’m just better with a bow and arrows,” he pouted.
‘Awe he’s so cute when he pouts’ Your thought took you by surprise.
“Perhaps you can teach me, Archer,” Your voice was lower than you intended, making you both blush. Your breath ghosted over his ear making him shiver just a little. He turned his head to look at you over his shoulder, his face so close to yours. He looked at your lips then deep into your eyes holding eye contact.
“Maybe I will,” he said in a deep gruff whisper that made you gasp and goosebumps rush over your skin. He turned back and smiled; proud he could get a rise out of you. You huffed and distanced yourself from him by leaning back, needing the space to calm down.
As night drew closer, Thorin led the company to the edge of a forest and found a shallow cave, more like a cliff overhang to make camp for the night. He told Fili and Kili to take care of the ponies and Oin and Gloin to make the fire. After the meals had been handed out Thorin told you to take Fili and Kili a bowl. You walked through the forest and found them looking at a downed tree in panicked awe.
“Something took 4 of the ponies,” Fili said to you, hoping you’d have the answer to their predicament.
“Yes, and…” you nodded at them trying not to panic yourself “What are you going to do about it since it’s your problem?”
The brothers decided to see what took the ponies and if they could handle it themselves, no need to worry Thorin, right? You followed them as they tracked the pony-nappers. Kili hid behind a tree and peeked around, you hid behind him and peeked over his shoulder. 3 large trolls were something to worry about, and a sight that made that dreadful feeling drop from your chest into your stomach. Your grip on Kili’s coat tightened.
He turned to you and said in barely a whisper, “Go back to camp and tell Thorin”.
Fili was immediately against it, huffing and puffing from behind his tree. Kili shrugged and motioned with hands as if to say, ‘What else would you have us do?!’ Fili huffed again and snuck around the tree. He tried to cut the rope fence with his sword, but he took too long. The trolls caught him. They were deciding ways to eat him when Kili looked at you in alarm and told you to go back to camp. You ran as fast as you could.
“Ponies! Big grey troll things took the ponies!” You said out of breath pointing the way you just came “Fili…in…danger”. Thorin cursed in dwarfish and rallied the company. Balin told you to keep your distance, so you didn’t get caught in the fight.
The dwarves fought bravely but were captured. Bilbo bid for more time while you thought of a plan. You heard the trolls complain about daylight coming and that gave you an idea. You saw the trolls had made camp in the shade cast by a large boulder. You wedged a branch under the rock and used the leverage to try to roll it. It was very heavy, and you were not. It took everything in your power to push the branch to roll the boulder down the ditch edge it rested on. The trolls were washed in sunlight, turning them to stone and freeing the company. They cheered when you stepped over the branch and into the clearing. You helped them from their confines and smiled and blushed when they praised your good job.
Back at camp the company gathered their things and discussed what to do now. Fili suddenly hushed the company.
“Warg howls in the distance,” He whispered to Thorin “They are coming!”
“RUN!” Thorin yelled at the company. Following Thorin everyone started running. You all ran as fast as you could onto a hilly plane sprinkled with trees and boulders. You ran and ran till the Wargs finally caught up. They began to encircle you. The company fought the beasts, taking them down as still more came at them. You went to hide behind the rock formation but fell into it instead. You climbed out as the Wargs were closing in.
“Down here!” you called “There’s a passage this way!” you slid down to make room for the others. Thorin was the last one, as he slid down a horn was blown near the entrance to the passage.
“I can’t see where it leads, do we follow?” One of the dwarves asked.
“Yes! We follow!” Thorin barged through the dwarves and led the company through the narrow pass. You all walked for a few minutes, but then Thorin rounded a corner and slowed as he realized where he’d unwittingly led the company. The rest kept walking around him, but Bilbo stopped and said in admiration: “Rivendell”. You stopped as well to take in the view before you. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. A small town on the side of a mountain with water flowing from beneath some of the glittering structures.
As Thorin led the company over a bridge, you grabbed Kili’s arm to steady yourself as you looked around and took in the ornate statues and architecture of the front steps of a large building. A man much taller than you or the dwarves approached the group.
“We would like to speak to Lord Elrond,” Thorin said through gritted teeth. He was swallowing his pride for the betterment of the quest, that much was clear through his clenched fists and tense shoulders.
“Lord Elrond isn’t here,” The elf said regretfully.
“Then where is he?” Thorin’s patience was growing thin. A horn was sounded on the other side of the bridge you’d just crossed. Everyone turned to see a group of horses galloping towards them. The dwarves began shouting in dwarfish and closing ranks with their weapons ready for battle. You were pushed into the very center of the circle as tall horses and riders circled you. They stopped suddenly and the one on a black horse dismounted.
“My Lord Elrond,” The elf who first approached you said with a bow.
“Lindir” Elrond bowed his head at him then turned to the leader of your group, “Welcome Thorin son of Thrain,” He looked over the dwarf “You have your grandfather's bearings.”
“I’m afraid I know you only from the stories my grandfather told me,” Thorin was doing his best to be polite. (You were later informed that the stories were mostly about him being a ninny.)
“I’d like to offer you and your company a taste of our elfish hospitality,” Elrond said with a warm smile.
“Does that mean we’ll eat?!” Bombur called from the back. The company chuckled at him.
“Yes Bombur, that means we’ll eat” Dori replied. The company cheered at the prospect of a full belly and a warm hearth.
Not long after, you were sat next to Bilbo and Kili at a large table. The salad appetizers were very good despite the dwarves not liking green food very much. You giggled at their jokes about how bad the music was or how they wanted chips and meat. Thorin was sat at another table across from Elrond discussing something you couldn’t hear, but you could tell it pained Thorin to be in the other man's presence.
You turned to Kili beside you. “Thorin looks constipated,” you said in a low voice barely containing your laughter “He can’t even pretend to be enjoying this”. Kili looked over at his uncle and laughed with you.
When the meals were served there was boisterous laughter and general dwarfish shenanigans, the usual at any merry dwarfish gathering. Bilbo looked like he was having PTSD from when they were doing the same at his house at the beginning of the quest. At the end of the meal, Thorin and Balin disappeared with Elrond to discuss a map. You asked Kili if he would escort you to the markets with as much innocent girlish need as you could muster to solidify your security. He agreed and walked with you through the corridors and to the market. He helped you get a fair price on a bag, a blanket, and a bedroll. The next thing you needed was clothes to blend in.
“What do the women around here wear exactly?” You asked him. He shrugged.
“It depends, I guess” He had his hands shoved in his pockets as he followed you around the clothing stalls like a puppy.
“Gee, that’s a big help.” You teased.
After some more wandering you found a stall selling clothes that looked your size. You purchased a dark blue form-fitting tunic that stopped above your knees and had slits on the sides that went up to your hips. It paired very nicely with the brown pants and brown coat with dark blue highlights you bought as well. Kili helped barter with the merchants since you didn’t know the fair price of things here. In another section of the market, you bought spools of black, blue, and pink thread. You put your belongings in your new bag.
“Are we done?” Kili asked, sounding slightly annoyed. He was ready to go back to the others and be away from so many elves. You sighed and rolled your eyes playfully and nodded. He led you through the busy crowded markets by holding your hand. You were thankful he was in front of you so he couldn’t see your blush. You made it back to the group, who had set up camp in a courtyard garden at the end of a hallway. Just as you arrived two female and two male elves came down the hallway.
One of the males stepped forward, “The bathhouse is ready for you now” he said to the group.
“Bath?! We don’t need no stinkin’ bath!” Exclaimed a dwarf from behind the fire. The rest heartily agreed, not ready to drop their pants on elvish soil it seemed.
“I’d like a bath” you timidly said, not wanting to make a fuss but very much wanting to be clean.
“Very good mistress dwarf, if you’ll follow us,” one of the female elves said. You were tense as you followed the four elves down the corridor, not sure what you were doing.
“You best go with her lad,” Dori said to Kili, “You never know what an elf might try to pull.” He glared at the back of the elves as they walked away. Kili nodded and ran after you.
“Y/N!” He called making you and the elves stop.
“Oh, change your mind, Kili?” You asked with an innocent smile, happy to have his company.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He smiled too.
You were led to a large door that opened into a covered hot spring that flowed over the balcony to create an assumably gorgeous waterfall. Columns lined the outer edge of the room which was split down the middle by a cloth partition. The male elves walked to one side of the divider with Kili in tow, while the females walked to the other. The elves asked that you wash under the heated shower of water off to the side before entering the hot springs. They left you to your own devices.
“I’ve never seen anything like this have you?” You asked Kili across the large room.
“No” He smiled at the wonder in your voice from seeing new things and making discoveries. He thought it was very cute.
You placed your bag and new clothes on the vanity in the corner. You undressed and stepped under the warm shower. You used the bar of soap you found to wash your hair and body. It was the best-smelling soap you’d ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
“Hey, Kee?” You hollered.
“Yeah?” He yelled back.
“Do you plan on keeping your soap?”
“No…Why?”
“I’ll take it then. I’ll need extra anyway,” And you were so happy you did. That soap made your hair silky smooth and stronger than ever. You rinsed the suds away then stepped into the hot springs.
It felt luxurious. You couldn’t help but moan a little as the heat pulled every knot and tense muscle from you. Relaxed, you floated in the steamy water.
“You still there Kili?” you asked suddenly nervous he’d left you.
“Yeah, I’m here” He replied, “We shouldn’t take too much longer though, Thorin could be back any minute and who knows what kind of a mood he’ll be in.”
That made you enjoy the bath a little faster. Not long after you began drying off and getting dressed. You took the hairbrush and beads and other miscellaneous hair trinkets that were on the vanity. You looked in the mirror at your new outfit. It fit as you thought, though a little snugger in some places than others, hugging your curves to allow for movement yet still baggy for breathability and insulation. Overall, a nice ensemble.
“Ready Y/N?” Kili asked from across the partition.
“Yeah, you can come over, I’m just packing my things.” You replied, folding your old clothes, and putting them in your bag with the rest of your things.
“Here’s the soap” He handed it to you.
“Thanks!” You smiled at him; you simply wrote his flushed cheeks off to the hot water. When you stood, he was able to get a much better look at you in your new clothes.
“A perfect fit I see” He smiled, looking you up and down. He couldn’t help but imagine what you’d look like wearing nothing but his tunic. A line of thought he blushed at and quickly willed away.
“Does it look alright? I don’t know how it’s supposed to fit” You fussed with the hems and the folds trying to make them lay better. He grabbed your hand to make you stop fidgeting.
“You look great,” he said with a genuine smile. You smiled and nodded your appreciation.
You walked back to camp, making moneyless bets on what mood Thorin would be in when he returned.
As you approached Fili saw you in your new outfit and said, “Well look at this…” Making the rest of the company look at you too, “Our wee lass looks like a bona fide middle earther now!” They cheered at your near-complete indoctrination.
“Now she just needs to learn how to fight like one.” Bofur quipped from beside the fire.
“Then I wouldn’t need any of you to protect me!” You put the back of your hand to your forehead feigning a damsel in distress, making the company laugh. You sat on the ground beside the long chair Kili was now examining his weapons in and leaned against it. You held out a stone fish figurine to him.
“As a thank you for helping me” you cleared your throat “…And for being my friend.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you knew he was smiling a little around his reed pipe. He took it from your open hands. You know it wasn’t much but it’s all you could offer.
“Maybe one day you can return it to the ocean,” you said, referring to your previous conversation.
“Maybe I will,” he smiled down at you with genuine fondness.
“Bombur!” Bofur called before throwing a sausage to his cousin. The table, which took skilled elfin craftsman months, even years to craft and carve out of solid wood, collapsed under the massive weight of Bombur. Everyone erupted in laughter, it was nice to be part of the group and share in the merriment.
~~
Thorin stopped Balin on their way back to the camp, “We should leave her here,” He said, “She is a liability.”
Balin had a terrible sinking feeling in his round tummy when he thought of splitting you up.
“So what if she is, Thorin?” Balin said near pleading. “Have you ever seen your nephew that happy or open with a girl that quick before? I’ve never seen the lad so engaged in a conversation that didn’t have to do with weapons before last night. So what if she dies on our quest, at least we gave them a chance to happen, and if fate finds their pairing favorable it will all work out!” Balin was desperate to keep you and the young prince together if only to keep the sinking feeling at bay.
Thorin huffed, “Very well, but her blood is not on my hands,” He walked away and into the camp.
~~
Thorin and Balin returned, and the tone became slightly more serious—slightly. The company settled and laid their bedrolls in the grassy parts of the garden. You laid yours out as well and prepped for sleep by removing your shoes and coat. The night was warm enough that your blanket would suffice. You looked up at the stars wondering if any of the constellations were the same as back home. You cuddled your coat to your chest relishing the feel of the soft fabric. The low conversation between Fili and Kili, while they sat on watch across the fire, lulled you to sleep.
Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
#Reader-Insert#Slow Burn#Modern Character in Middle Earth#During The Hobbit#How Do I Tag#Canon-Typical Violence#Kíli Is a Little Shit (Tolkien)#wrote this while I had covid#in like 4 days lol#implied soulmates#Dwarf Culture & Customs#Freeform#Holding Hands#Cuddling & Snuggling#Sleepy Cuddles#Protective Thorin Oakenshield Company Members#Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship#Fluff and Humor#Domestic Fluff#Tooth-Rotting Fluff#Where In Middle-Earth Is Gandalf?#Hair Braiding#Dwarf Courting#My First Tumblr Fic#Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies#Fíli & Kíli & Thorin Live#Thorin Oakenshield Lives#Fíli Lives (Tolkien)#Kíli Lives (Tolkien)#kili x reader
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Only Friends, Shipping Culture, Cross-Generational Differences, Themes and Endgame
Strap in, folks. This is a long one.
What finally pushed me to make this post was a very interesting discourse between @lurkingshan, @waitmyturtles, and @twig-tea here around the way this show has subverted norms to a lesser extent than first hoped and how the fans themselves, and the creator’s interactions with these fans, have impacted the creation and completion of the show, as well as the way themes built through the series may now feel less clear after the latest episode.
I wanted to offer my understanding and perspective because it differs somewhat, but it is also very much informed by this post and the larger Tumblr discourse around Only Friends and shipping culture that this show has sparked. I will note, for the record, that I have been much busier since about episode 5 of OF than I had been for the first episodes (or than I was for BMF), so I have missed a lot more of the fascinating discourse that this show has sparked than I would wish.
Let’s do this.
Shipping Culture
I had never heard of this before joining Tumblr this year (in May) despite watching 50 BLs before that, due to being completely disengaged from the actors as individuals prior to joining Tumblr, and while Tumblr has opened my eyes to how much fanservice is part of these people’s lives and jobs and the problems surrounding that phenomenon. I remain largely disengaged from the actors personally. I do not have Twitter, Tik Tok or Instagram, I rarely watch BTS and even my revelation that First is the most beautiful man ever to exist (and I say that as a person who is both aro and ace) has only got me to watch one First & Khao Armshare interview (The Eclipse one). I have also never purchased merch or event tickets so I am in fact, not a good fan in terms of profit making or engagement.
I do, however, love the shows an awful lot and may engage with BTS more once I have fewer things to watch…
All this to say is that my firsthand knowledge of such things is limited at best, but I am still here to say:
I think Only Friends is doing excellent things here, even if all the ‘couples’ end up together.
Is it burning them to the ground like so many hoped? No, but I have watched 47 Thai BLs at this stage and not many of them explored relationships beyond the pairs in any way, shape or form, and OF HAS DONE THAT.
Of our main six characters, NONE of them have only kissed their “other half.” They’ve literally all at least made out with one other person from the core six, and thus far Mew, Boston and Nick have ALSO kissed other people.
This is, in my humble opinion, A PRETTY BIG DEAL.
I am currently watching Not Me (for the first time, haven’t finished, no spoilers please), and I have been informed somewhat reliably that the original novel included a Gram/Black plotline that was cut/altered (to Gram/Eugene/Black love triangle), and I posit that was due in part because they couldn’t have Gun even KISSING Mond even if he was also kissing Off. Black and White would have been a great way to shift things even a little by having the branded pair be together while ALSO having half the brand with someone else at the SAME TIME. Can you imagine??
And yet as recently as 2021 that didn’t happen.
Sometimes change takes time and patience and I think OF is doing really good work, even if it doesn’t go as far as we might wish.
EVEN IF all our branded pairs end up together unsubverted (which is not what I am hoping for but EVEN IF), this show will have still begun paving the way for more varied storylines and pairings in shows
The Clash of Generational Lenses
Speaking of the end game, lets talk about a little thing called hope.
I had a very interesting discourse back around, hmmm episode 6, with @shouldiusemyname and @plantsarepeopletoo , about the sheer confusion I felt about Tumblr’s idea that every one of these characters should end up apart simply because they’d done bad things or something? (this is extremely generalized. I was missing a lot of nuance from both Tumblr and my own lens hence the unpacking then and now).
Now I went into this show fully prepared for this to end sadly and I largely viewed this expectation of sad as everyone ending up broken up and alone. I don’t normally watch sad by choice, but I was willing to try this one because Jojo’s stories are SO beautifully compelling that I knew it would be worth the journey. I have watched Love of Siam (not Jojo but sad) and Gay Okay Bangkok (complicated), two very different shows reflective of their times and their creators and from the beginning, Only Friends did not feel like those (although the links to Gay Okay Bangkok and the exploration of real queer relationships has been fascinating and I am very glad I watched that one before OF).
So why was there this, almost prescribed hopelessness, being projected onto these very young characters who were just in the process of finding themselves? Why were these young people’s flaws and choices so linked to the idea that they would end up alone?
Now @shouldiusemyname told me the following (in the context of a much wider discourse):
Ahhh I like this cos this is something I take very much for granted and I think it’s a generational gap thing.
This is a reaction to the way we were brought up (again generalizing cos sometimes it’s necessary).
There was no alternative to monogamy and being queer meant that you can’t have that for 2 reasons:
1. Law doesn’t allow
2. Socially unacceptable cos being gay was seen as what kind of sex you were having as opposed to relationships. If you don’t have the gay sex, you’re not gay.
This is also the reason for being anti het norm. We couldn’t have that so we needed to find the alternative and have ALL of it.
We were both generalizing A LOT, but this idea was MIND BLOWING to me at the time.
(For the record I am born late 1990s, Shouldiusemyname is born early 1980s (and Plantsarepeopletoo is born late 80s so we have variety covered lol!))
Because while, (as @waitmyturtles for example has pointed out on multiple occasions) the imposition of purity culture and monogamy on queer culture (and in general) is wrong, the idea that no queer people are desiring commitment or monogamy is also wrong. (I am not here suggesting that even in an ideal world where queer people TRULY HAD equal rights they would magically all want monogamous long-term relationships because that’s just not true. In addition hets regularly oppose the het norm as well, long-term monogamous relationships are unwanted by many of them).
I come from a strong biological background (which unequivocally supports more than two sexes and more than two genders, do not come back here and make this about that, got it!) and am currently doing a PhD in Palaeontology so a lot of my relationship understanding is informed by a wider understanding of breeding, monogamy and nonmonogamy in reproduction across the animal and plant kingdoms just by exposure (and yes reproduction in the plant kingdom is very much included, some plants have both male and female parts, it’s fascinating!). And monogamy is present in a hugely wide range of species, it’s not soley something humans came up with just because of religious norms. Addtionally, there is the development of consistent monogamous and/or committed polygamous relationships (historically, most commonly men with multiple wives) across a huge number of cultures throughout history largely for the fostering of children. Most of this influence has been more irrelevant for the queer community because of their inability to produce children in monogamous pairs*, and children are a huge sticking point for the NEED for long-term stable relationships. So, without this sticking point (combined with the aforementioned factors around law and discrimination), relationships are viewed as less permanent. Thus, I had to unpack my own casual assumptions that relationships normally have a long-term goal. (*Generalizing hugely, obviously there are lots of variations that can produce biological children without assistance, but these points most strongly apply to same-sex relationships)
For example, I find the way this plays out in a show like What Did You Eat Yesterday particularly fascinating, and have realized since starting Season 2 that I had missed a lot of this subtext in the first season because, to me, the idea that the central couple would stay and grow old together was a given. PARTLY because of monogamous cultural lenses, but ALSO because they loved each other and wanted to be together, so why wouldn’t they assume they would stay and grow old together?
I also realized that I am further sheltered in this mindset by not just my age but by the acceptance of my wider family of non-marriage as a concept (or even just not having to have children) as normal and okay. My Grandfather (in his 80s) is one of 10 children and has multiple siblings (my great uncles/aunts) who 1 never married or 2 married but chose never to have children. While I am not going to pretend that my uncles/aunts were never judged for such things, that judgment was NEVER part of my upbringing and we visited my single and/or childless great-uncles just as often as those with children.
I seem to have gotten sidetracked…What is the wider point I am making here?
Ah yes
Only Friends is so interesting because it’s shot like it’s set in the 80s & 90s, before the turn of the millennia, with so much homage paid to the queer stories and reality that the youth of this time grew up with. But the generational change that the last two decades or so have brought is inarguably huge, and so these characters, all born after the turn of the century, are not truly from the world that, in some ways, it looks like they’ve been placed into. @wen-kexing-apologist did an extremely comprehensive post about gay cruising culture and Boston that was extremely relevant to his character and the story being told, but it also was a specific throwback to something that is different in the 2020s. Not because people like Boston don’t exist, but because the turn of the century brought with it so many things that make this exact thing more complicated.
And OF has been showing us why! Surveillance, SO MUCH surveillance, every character has been recorded or recorded other characters or shared recordings of other characters, sometimes all of the above, and this surveillance does have a deep impact on the relationships today’s young people engage in! Not just the queer community but all young people of today are under near constant scrutiny and surveillance, and the young people born in the last couple decades have grown up like this, queer or not.
One last thing to mention here is the specific, observable, phenomenon that has been going on in Thailand, it is clear when you look at media like Love of Siam (2008) and compare it to ITSAY (2020) (which I haven’t even seen yet gah but I still know this is a great example). The phenomenon of BL, for all its flaws, has wrought change in the psyche and culture of the people of Thailand, ESPECIALLY the young people, and this is absolutely informing our six main characters views on relationships because they would have gone through high school with this as a major part of their culture.
Themes and Endgame: I Think Hope is the Point
All this draws me back into how I think OF will end, because it’s been at the heart of the show throughout, and that is hopefully, Only Friends will end hopefully.
Jojo has (I believe) stated outright that his primary goal for this show was to represent his community in truth, the messy non-het non-monogamy of queer youths in their 20s has been playing out across our screens, but the thing that has been keeping my attention riveted on Only Friends is the heart of it all.
The journeys of growth and discovery on this show have been magnificent. @thegalwhorants has been pointing out the intentional parallels of language this show has been using to highlight some of that growth, and that is just one very interesting fraction of the way this show has used words, music (@plantsarepeopletoo), colours, styles and more to represent the transformation characters are going through as they grow into themselves before our eyes.
A few very brief examples:
Mew’s switch to wearing Ray’s wardrobe when he is trying not to care but cares so much about Top.
Ray’s changed wardrobe to match the style Sand picked out for him even as he tried to choose Mew and couldn’t, because he’s already moved on, even when he couldn’t accept it.
Nick’s whole makeover to catch Boston’s attention later even catching Dan’s attention and the way that in that scene with Boston outside in ep10, Nick had returned to his shorts and t-shirt because he finally felt seen the way he sees Boston.
One’s sense of self is often built in part, around their relationships (family, friends, sexual and romantic), ESPECIALLY in collectivist cultures, and so much of our 20s involves growing and learning who you are through these relationships. I have seen arguing about toxic friendship groups and how they all need to just let each other go, and maybe that is the best endgame, I don’t know. Sometimes, growing together can be so much stronger, and sometimes, growing apart is the only way to move forward.
But these last two eps in particular (but honestly every moment of this show) have left me with the feeling that hope is the point. Because things HAVE changed, the world is moving and the things possible in 2023 are often utterly unthinkable to the youth of the 1980s, 1990s and before. The world is growing, acceptance and love have always been there but, surveillance or no, it’s so much easier to find now.
To be queer is no longer to be isolated, not in the way it once was, it is not a sentence of aloneness. Nor a stamp of irrevocable pain. Are things good now? HECK NO, you look at any statistic: homelessness, mental health, suicide rate, poverty; Being queer makes your life harder.
No matter how hard you try things might get worse and while that’s true for all people, queerness compounds that and often makes the consequences of your choices harder through isolation.
But the isolation is less now and I think OF wants to show that
You may do many things and sometimes these things will hurt no matter how careful you are, Not caring isn’t the point, Not feeling isn’t the point, God every character on this show feels so MUCH
This episode had moments of complete heartbreak
Complete regret
And complete Joy
And there is much more still to come
So when I think about endgame, I think about hope, and the lessening of isolation for all, and this does not mean 3 perfectly happy couples in perfect monogamous relationships wrapped up with a neat little bow, It means six individuals who have learned and grown through friendship and love, this may mean healed relationships, it may not, this may mean healed friendships, it may not. (It may mean Top, Mew and Boeing in a throuple but maybe I’m the only one hoping for that lol). We’ve clearly got more drama and pain to come but I am confident now that things will end with hope.
I do not know how Jojo and co will show that, but I trust them, and I can’t wait to find out.
#ofts#only friends the series#only friends#onlyft#rturts is wondering#only friends meta#ofts meta#roc goes haywire over only friends
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we're slaves to any semblance of touch
Part 2
Word Count: 8891
Summary: Y/N and Daryl have been pining after each other for weeks and when Maggie finally urges Y/N to make her move, she and Daryl end up alone for the first time. Daryl is more than happy to help Y/N lose her virginity.
Characters: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader, Maggie Rhee
Warnings: Swearing, mutual pining, loss of virginity, smut, oral sex, blow jobs, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, slight innocence kink, unprotected sex
A/N: This fic was requested here on Tumblr by @azanoni using my prompt list and I had so much fun working on this one! I'm a sucker for prison-era Daryl so I knew the prison had to be the setting for this one and I just loved this request! Please feel free to send me any requests you might have for Daryl fics :)
Prompt(s): "Show me how you like to be touched."
"Is this your first time?"
"I don't know what to do." "Let me teach you."
Feedback is what motivates me to work so please let me know what you think! Reblogs are also greatly appreciated.
Taglist is open!
Masterlist
By now you were really starting to question what exactly you'd done for the Georgian sun to this level of a personal grievance against you. You used the bottom of your top to twist the cap off your second water bottle of the hour, your hands too soaked with sweat to get a proper grip on it. It had finally reached that point in the middle of summer when everything was unbearable, even the metal railing of the watch tower was burning against your skin as you leaned forward on it. You thought maybe on the ground below it wouldn't be half as bad but you and Maggie and the unfortunate luck of drawing the first watch duty today. You stuck to the walkway surrounding the tower, trying as much as possible to avoid the tiny concrete sauna that was the watch tower's main room. Even out there it didn't seem to help with the humidity in the air.
Though you did have to admit, even if the heat was choking you there was always one positive to taking the watch shift - the view. The view from the tower covered most of the prison and for miles into the forest that surrounded it beyond the fence, giving you the perfect view of everyone going about their own jobs below you.
Carol, ever the worrying mother figure to the group was making her rounds with water and food, making sure to get drinks to the people that would otherwise forget and collapse of dehydration in this heat. Further across the prison, you could see Rick tending to the fields that had been established for a more steady source of food with Carl doing his best to help. Beth sat near them, Judith playing in her lap as she watched her dad and brother work with a curious expression. As you scanned across the prison finally, your eyes fell on him.
Daryl as per usual was tucked away in his own corner of the prison, hiding away from the chatter and noise of everyone else. He was on his knees, shifting to sit back on his heels as he examined something on the old motorbike in front of him. One of the old prison toolboxes sat next to him as he searched around inside the now open side of the engine. Even from here, you could see the black streaks of greasy motor oil coating his fingers as he work them over the mechanics of the inside of the engine, holding one of the tools in his teeth while both of his hands were busy.
You couldn't pull your eyes away from the way he worked with his hands, the sweat shining on his skin where it clung to his arms and the back of his neck. There was something about the way his muscles moved under his skin while he loosened the parts with the wrench that made your skin flush with heat in an entirely different way to the harsh rays of the sun, your cheeks now burning warmer than before.
"You're starin'." The sing-song tone of Maggie's teasing voice rang out as she leaned in over your shoulder to follow your line of sight. You spun around, ripping your eyes away from Daryl no matter how much you wished you could keep watching, practically falling over yourself as you did. The rifle over your shoulder clattered against the railing as you finally steadied yourself only to be met with Maggie's grin.
Maggie was one of your closest friends at the prison and your days on duty together like this often turned into gossip sessions for the pair of you. She was the one person you told everything to, including when you'd started to develop a crush on the tracker she'd just caught you trying to undress with your eyes.
"I'm not starin', I'm just- admirin' from a distance." Your weak excuse of a defence crumbled under one knowing look from Maggie as she tilted her head to one side, raising an eyebrow at you. Okay so maybe you were staring, maybe you did stare at him at any chance you got. Maybe you did stare at just how skilled his hands were working with his crossbow, easily manipulating it in his hands while he cleaned it or the rare, soft, loving look he got on his face whenever he was around Judith. It didn't matter to you, as long as you were looking at him in some way nothing mattered to you. It was like everything else fell away around you. "Well, maybe I'm starin' a little."
"So you still ain't found the nerve to talk to him 'bout your feelings yet then?" Maggie asked looking at you curiously as she leaned against the wall opposite you. You could see the way she kept the perimeter of the prison in her line of sight at all times, even while you talked.
"Who says I haven't?" You brought your hand up over your heart, a fake offended gasp falling from your lips as you laughed at how obvious it was that you were still very much hiding your crush.
"You mean besides the quite frankly sad puppy dog pining?" You could always rely on Maggie to call you out on your bullshit when you needed her to. You scoffed at her blunt way of phrasing it as she laughed at you but she was right, you knew that. The pining truly had reached a whole new level. "I mean come on, everyone can see it. And with someone as observant as Daryl? He's an idiot if he hasn't already figured out your feelings for him."
At this point, you were certain Daryl already knew about your feelings for him. What was going on between the two of you was - complicated, to say the least. Maybe even more complicated than you'd let on to Maggie. You were confident it wasn't one-sided, Daryl having nearly straight out told you as much when you joked about the possibility of you having a crush on him. You could feel his eyes on you around the prison almost as much as you stared at him but things at the prison had been chaotic. Trying to establish a new community here had its own challenges and adding a relationship to the mix would have just complicated things for both of you.
Now though, things were starting to settle, day-to-day life becoming smoother and maybe it was finally time to see if your gut feeling that Daryl wanted this just as much as you was right.
"I just - I'm nervous is all. You know I don't have much experience in certain areas Maggie, or well any experience and I don't know how to bring that up with him. It's not a conversation I've had to have with someone I really care about before." You sighed, shifting your hands nervously as you thought about it. You were willing to admit that your thoughts about Daryl more often than not turned inappropriate and you wanted nothing more than to act on them with him. Unfortunately, your experience with anything in that area stopped at a sad excuse for a messy make-out session with an asshole of an ex-boyfriend in your teen years. You didn't want to scare Daryl off if he thought your lack of practice would ruin the experience.
"I've seen the way he looks at you Y/N, given the chance that man would fall to his knees and worship the very ground you walk on. He ain't gonna care about your experience level as long as you're learnin' with him." Maggie said then, her tone serious as she gave you a reassuring look, her hand resting on your arm. Maybe she was right, you'd waited so long now that maybe it was time to stop worrying and just do something about your feelings.
"I guess the thing now is finding the time to talk to him alone with how busy we've all been lately." In the past few weeks, everyone's focus had been on turning the prison into a livable space for the group which had proved to be a challenge. When you weren't helping to clear the cell blocks you were on watch and on the rare few times you did have a day to yourself Daryl was away on runs. The most one-on-one time you'd managed to have with Daryl was during watch duty like this.
"Now correct me if I'm wrong but, he seems pretty alone down there right now." Maggie seemingly caught the nervous look on your face as you looked down at him again, torn between wanting to run straight to him and your duty to your job. Who knew when you might get another chance like this. "Just go for it, don't worry 'bout keepin' watch. I'll call Glenn, and tell Rick we wanted the time alone if he asks 'bout it. Don't waste any more time thinkin' 'bout it."
"Thank you, Maggie, I really do appreciate this." You felt more excited than you had in a very long time as the possibilities ran through your mind. You gave Maggie a bright smile as you pulled her into a quick, tight hug before rushing to disappear down the ladder of the watch tower. You weren't going to wait for a second more.
~~~
"Whatcha doin' out here?" You asked peeking over Daryl's shoulder at the engine as you walked up behind him, your shadow towering over him as for once you were the one standing taller in your exchange. His eyes snapped up to you standing over him where he still knelt on the ground, dropping the wrench he'd been holding between his teeth. You could see the surprise on his face at your sudden presence behind him, not expecting to see you all day when he knew you were on watch duty. You let out a slight giggle at his reaction, not used to seeing him actually surprised. "Just me didn't mean to spook you."
"Nah. Ya didn't spook me." He said with an almost embarrassed shake of his head, his hair falling into his face to hide his piercing eyes. Your hand twitched at your side as you fought back the urge to reach out and brush his hair back out of his face. "Just ain't expecting anyone out 'ere is all. Pretty sure I burned out the brake pads on the last run. See that? Ain't supposed to be like that."
You dropped your rifle down next to Daryl's crossbow and took a seat on the ground next to him, the concrete warming the skin of your legs. You leaned in as close as you could, your shoulders touching as your gaze followed his finger to where he was pointing at some exposed part of the bike. You let out a hum and nodded your head as he leaned in and started to work on pulling the piece loose. You pretended you knew what was happening just to continue watching him work with his hands, seeing each delicate touch this close up when in reality none of his bike talk made any sense to you.
"Gonna have to take her apart and replace the belt most likely." Daryl sighed, wiping his hands on his already filthy jeans as he sat back, propping one arm up on his knee. His arm brushed against yours as he moved and you sucked in a harsh breath at the contact. "A project for another day. Ain't gonna be able to do it without some scavenged parts so I gotta wait till the next run now."
There was a beat of silence as you both enjoyed the company. Daryl sat down fully on the ground, resting on his elbows as he stretched out, his legs spanning out in front of him until he was practically lying down. You watched the way his head tipped back, his eyes closing as he took in the heat of the sun on his face. His body was already covered in a thin layer of sweat, his hair sticking to the nape of his neck while his hands were coated in motor oil practically up to the wrists.
There was something about him like this, messy and so involved in something he was passionate about that made him so attractive to you. Even when you had no idea what he was talking about you could listen to him talk all day, that deep southern accent commanding every ounce of your attention. It was rare for him to hold a conversation he was truly interested in so you savoured every single one.
"Have you been out here all day? Why don't we head inside for a bit? It would do us both some good to get out of the sun for a while and wash up before you end up with heatstroke." You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip as you realised what you'd just said, the suggestion slipping out before you could even think. Part of you was still nervous you'd the read whole situation wrong as you waited for an answer, Daryl watching you curiously. What if he really wasn't interested in you like this and you scared him off for good?
"Sure, yeah. Good idea." He nodded much to your relief and pushed himself up from the ground, rolling out his neck muscles that had grown stiff from being bent over the engine all morning he did. The movement gave you the perfect view of his muscles tensing all the way down to his shoulders and back, your eyes following them until he turned around to face you again. You tried to look away but it was too late, Daryl catching you staring directly at you. You could have sworn you saw the slight tug of a smirk at the corner of his mouth as he reached a hand out to you, grabbing your wrist to pull you up from the ground. He glanced down at your wrist and winced at the ring of oil he'd left on your skin where his fingers had been wrapped around you. "Shit sorry. Guess I really should get washed up."
"Don't worry 'bout it." You reassured him, your fingers absentmindedly tracing where he touched you. In reality, it felt like the oil would burst into flames at any second with how your skin burned from even the simplest of touches for him. It really was time to admit you were down bad for this man. "C'mon then."
There was a look of confusion on Daryl's face as he watched you grab your gun and walk away from the entrance to the central cell block that everyone used as living quarters. Your nerves were growing, almost stripping you of your confidence as you tried to figure out a way to explain your choice without entirely clueing Daryl into your plan.
"On a hot day like this everyone's gonna want to wash up, the queues for the washroom in there are gonna be long, the other cell block is still mostly unused and the water system works just as well." You shrugged as casually as you could, gesturing towards the other building.
There was a flash in Daryl's eyes as you turned away from him, your hips swaying more than usual as you made your way towards the door. It was as if he realised your plan at the mention of an empty building to yourselves on the one day you skipped out on your work to give you the time alone you needed. He didn't say anything, instead nodding at you as he grabbed his crossbow and moved to catch up to you.
You could feel your heart beating against your ribs almost hard enough to break free as you walked, Daryl's low strides quickly catching him until his steps fell in time with yours. Neither of you said anything as you walked, both of your minds racing with the idea of what could possibly happen when you were finally alone together.
You were the first to push open the door to the cell block to find you were right, it was entirely empty, your footsteps echoing off the high ceiling. Unlike the other cell block, this one had only recently been cleared for use and people who were already settled in the other building hadn't bothered to move their stuff out there yet leaving the two of you completely alone.
"See? Told you we could skip the lines." You laughed, hoping your playful tone masked the nerves bubbling just below the surface. Your plan was more spur of the moment and as a result, was far from well thought out. Sure you finally had Daryl alone but you had no idea how to go about outright asking him for what you wanted or how to get him to make the first move on you.
"Clever girl." His eyes seemed to trace a path down your body as he spoke, no longer trying to hide the way he let his gaze linger on certain parts of your body a little longer. The sound of the praise coming from him had that blush threatening to creep back up on your cheeks. Something in the air had changed, it was no longer heavy with humidity but instead with a tension between you that could have been sliced with a knife.
You slipped your gun back off your shoulder and left it on the table in the main entrance hall along with the belt holster you'd become so fond of and it was shortly followed by the sound of Daryl's crossbow clattering down next to them. You turned to head down the hall towards the washroom, genuinely looking forward to cleaning the heat of the day off your skin even if this was all part of your plan. You had expected Daryl to wait in the hall until you were done so he could take his turn but instead to your surprise, he followed you down the hall and into the washroom.
There wasn't a word exchanged between the two of you as you cleaned yourselves up, a tension filling the air that you both seemed unwilling to break just yet. You slowly cleaned the oil from your wrist, the action more of a second thought as your focus stayed on the mirror in front of you. In its reflection, you could see Daryl running his hands under the water, carefully rubbing away the oil on his skin. He dipped his head down and splashed his face with the running water, washing away the oil he'd managed to smear over his brow. You copied his movements, the cold water admittedly feeling amazing against your face.
The final part of your plan clicked in your mind at that moment, this was your chance if you were ever going to get one. If you were being honest the front of your tank top was admittedly filthy. Your morning started with helping Carol collect the ingredients for breakfast from the fields in the front of the prison and the dirt was still caked into the material of your top. In a split-second decision, you were sliding the top off over your head before you could back out, leaving you standing in only your grey sports bra.
Your hands practically shook as you dipped the top under the running water and tried to rub away the dirt. You weren't sure that Daryl was even looking, his back still towards you as you took one final look in the mirror before turning your attention to cleaning your top. You thought you might actually forget how to breathe if you let yourself think about what you were doing too much but it didn't take long to get your answer.
Daryl's fingertips were still cold from the water as they met your back, the feeling a strong contrast against your warm skin. He was standing directly behind you now, his movements nervous, as if he was still afraid of reading the situation wrong but he was playing into exactly what you wanted. His fingers traced a path down your spine, starting at the bottom of your neck and coming to a stop just above the waistband of your shorts.
"Is this alrigh'?" He asked, his voice rough and uneven, already becoming laced with lust but needing your reassurance before he went any further. He needed to hear you say this was what you wanted. You turned around to face him, his hands falling to the rim of the sink as he trapped you between it and his chest. Your breathing was becoming laboured already, your cheeks turning red with the heat that was now burning through your veins. At that moment you had never been more certain of anything in your life.
"Daryl, I didn't invite you out to the only empty building around for no reason." You laughed, the sound light and sweet to his ears as you basked in the feeling of this finally happening. Sure you'd know for a while this wasn't one-sided but to have Daryl confirm it felt surreal, part of you thought you were dreaming this entire thing. You reached out a hand and let it gently rest on his chest right over his heart, feeling it beat against your palm as it picked up speed. This wasn't a dream, this was very real. "I've been thinking about this for a long time. I want this."
That was all the invitation Daryl needed as he brought one hand up to cover yours, lacing your fingers together as he leaned in, his lips finally, finally meeting yours. The kiss was softer than you'd expected, slower. His lips moved carefully over yours as he took his time, learning how your body melted against his, the way you moved as your lips started to match his movements. It had been a long time since you'd kissed anyone and you were admittedly out of practice but there was something about Daryl, about the way his hands fit so perfectly around your waist that calmed your nerves and made everything flow more naturally.
"You were really plannin' this the whole time?" Daryl smirked against your lips, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. You squirmed under his stare, feeling overwhelmed by just how much power he had over you already. "You didn't give a damn 'bout my bike, did ya?"
"Daryl you are so incredibly sweet when you talk about what you're passionate about. I could listen to you all day." You sighed finally giving into the urge and reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes as you smiled sweetly at him. "But I have no fucking clue what you're talking about when it comes to that bike."
Daryl let out a laugh at that, a genuine, loud laugh that you'd never heard from him before. The sound made your heart skip a beat, it was like music to your ears, your smile lighting up your whole face as you watched him. There was something about seeing him like this, the side of him that no one else got to see, the side that was for you and you only that made you curious about what else he had to show you. That needy feeling was starting to take over again as you took both his hands in yours and slowly started to walk towards the washroom door, leading him behind you.
"You think these cells are still as intact as ours?" You asked, your voice still managing to hold that hint of innocence despite the intentions that question so obviously held. Daryl happily followed you out into the main cell block before taking the lead, pulling you into a small cell further down the first row. The cell was cleaner than you expected, the bed was still made with a soft blanket and there was a gas-light lamp sitting on the desk giving the room a surprisingly cosy feeling. You looked around the room and slowly started to recognise the clothes scattered around as Daryl's
"Sometimes I need space to myself." He shrugged as he caught the look of recognition on your face. He dropped down onto the bed and spread his legs apart, pulling you in by the waist until you were standing between them. "You ain't the only one with yer eye on this cell block. Been wantin' to take ya up here for a while."
Daryl slid his fingers into the belt loops of your shorts and pulled you even closer until you were pressed against him, chest to chest. You made the move this time, leaning in to kiss him slowly as you melted into his touch. His hands found your hips and gently squeezed before starting to slide downwards, exploring every curve of your body. You couldn't believe you weren't the only one who'd been thinking about this. You grew needier the more you thought about Daryl fantasising about bringing you out here and who knows what else he'd thought about doing with you.
He pulled away from the kiss and took in the sight of you standing in front of him in nothing but your bra, his hands running up your bare sides as he did. His touch was gentle against your skin, almost curious, exploring as he took note of every reaction and sound he drew from you. You let out a soft sigh as his hands trailed down to grab at the back of your thighs and he took the opportunity to pull you into another kiss, sliding his tongue into your open mouth.
His hands were so close to where you needed them now and all you could think about was how much you wanted him to touch you properly, to relieve some of the pressure between your legs that was now becoming unbearable. Instead, he took his hands off you earning a disappointed whine as he leaned back on his hands on the bed, tilting his head to the side as he watched you closely.
"Show me how ya like to be touched. Wanna treat ya right." He said then, his voice holding that commanding tone that made you weak at the knees. You could feel the flush settling over your chest, creeping up into your face and betraying your false confidence as he placed all the focus on you. It wasn't that you were completely inexperienced with pleasure. You'd touched yourself before, admittedly mostly to the thought of Daryl but that was different. Those times you were focused on the end goal, there was none of the teasing or neediness you wanted from Daryl. You wanted him to touch you like you were the only thing he cared about in the world.
"I uh -" You stuttered over your words, trying to find the best way to voice your thoughts to Daryl but the words seemed to die in your throat. You could feel the embarrassment you'd feared clawing its way up into your chest as you watched the expression on Daryl's face change. He seemed to have pieced it together but his look was more curious than it was judgemental.
"Is this yer first time?" He asked, his voice soft and quiet as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His thumb traced across your side trying to ease your anxiety as he waited for an answer.
"I hope that's not a turn-off." You chuckled nervously, turning your face away from his gaze as you admitted the truth. Admittedly it did make you feel better to finally have it out in the open and Daryl didn't seem as affected by the news as you'd expected.
"There ain't nuthin' you could do or say that's gonna be a turn-off. Been wantin' ya too damn bad for anythin' to change that." Daryl reassured you, pressing a kiss to the centre of your chest. You could feel your anxiety melting away at his words and the way his lips felt against your skin. The scruff of his beard tickled your skin as he tilted his face up to meet your gaze, the surprising softness in his steel eyes almost taking your breath away. His lips moved over your collarbone pressing gentle kisses there. "I'll take care of ya, be gentle with ya, I promise."
"I trust you." You nodded knowing he meant every word of it. You'd never trusted anyone in the way you trusted Daryl. Your hands fell to the back of his neck, running through the hair there before lightly pulling. You loved the new shaggy look he had as he grew his hair out longer, it suited him nicely you thought. Daryl tugged on your waist, pulling you down to straddle his lap before his hands glided up your back, meeting the edge of your sports bra. You got the hint as he snapped the elastic against your skin and leaned back, giving him the space to pull the material up over your head.
You could practically feel the path his eyes burned across your skin as he took in the slight of your now entirely bare chest. His touch returned to your chest, his calloused hands gently kneading at your breasts. You whined out at the feeling of finally having Daryl touching you like this as his palms rolled over your sensitive nipples. His own eyes were heavy with lust as he stared at the way your breasts looked under his hands, enjoying the feeling of your warm skin under his touch.
"You look fuckin' incredible like this Doll," Daryl mumbled against your skin as his lips found their way to your neck, moving across the front of your throat. The words seemed to tumble from his mouth before he even really thought about them and the rare praise from him had you rolling your hips against him, your body searching for any friction it could get. Your reaction spurred him on as he realised how much you loved the praise. "Best tits I've ever seen."
"Daryl." You tried to hold onto enough of your decency to still at least sound embarrassed by the way he was talking but his name sounded more like a moan on your lips. You didn't want to admit how much his words affected you but the way your hips started to grind against your control showed it. His lips left a trail of red blotches across your skin in their wake as his blunt nails dragged down your back, marking you as his.
"I mean it. Every word. Could spend all day worshippin' this perfect fuckin' body. Got an ass to die for too." His hands roamed lower down your back until he grabbed at your ass, using his grip to pull you closer to him. You collapsed into his chest, your arms winding around his neck as you pulled him into a needy kiss. He squeezed at your ass, making your hips roll forward again and with this new position you could feel his erection straining against his pants underneath you.
His need was growing with each kiss, his lips growing rougher, messier against yours with each kiss becoming all teeth and tongue. You needed more, needed everything you'd been daydreaming about with him. You had a hundred fantasies running through your head and even if you were unsure what you were doing you wanted to learn, with him.
The kiss broke as you shifted further back in his lap, his mouth chasing yours as you pulled away with a teasing look on your face. You glanced down at his lap as your hands finally found his belt. Daryl let out a soft groan as you played with the leather material before you started to thread it through the buckle, sinking off his lap and onto the ground between his thighs. As he pieced together what you were trying to do he caught your wrist then, urging you back up.
"You don't gotta do that, not yer first time." You smiled up at Daryl through your lashes, giving him the sweetest look. It truly was heartwarming how willing he was to put the full attention of this moment on you but you'd been dreaming about what it would be like to go down on him for weeks now.
"I know but I wanna." You reassured him, kissing the inside of his wrist where he was still holding yours in his hand. You let the kiss linger for a moment longer, feeling his pulse under your lips. "I just- I don't know what to do really is all."
"Let me teach ya then." He said, his voice raspy with the thought of just how much you wanted to please him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about you on your knees like this for him before. He quickly undid his own belt before kicking his boots and tattered, well-worn jeans off to one side leaving him in just his boxers. You could feel the heat pooling between your legs at the sight of the outline of his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. You hadn't even touched him and yet your head was swimming, making you feel drunker than any alcohol ever had. "Just go slow, take ya time."
You reached out and lightly dragged your fingers across his cock over his boxers, feeling the way he twitched as your touch pulled a strangled moan from his lips. The sound awoke something in you, making you forget about your own nervousness for a moment as you went for it, finally tugging off his boxers to throw them down with the rest of his clothes. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and slowly stroked him up and down, watching for even the smallest reactions on his face. You could see the rise and fall of his chest as he fought to keep his eyes open, watching you as you let your tongue peek out, leaving kitten licks just under the head on every downward stroke.
"That's it Darlin' j'st like that." His southern drawl deepened as the lust he was feeling took over, building higher and higher. There was something about your innocence and how willing you were to learn, to let him be the one to ruin you that turned him on beyond belief. You kissed your way up his length all the way from the bottom until your tongue ran across the tip, licking up the precum that was starting to build up there. You leaned in then and took the tip between your lips, looking up at him as you slowly pushed your head forward. Your tongue ran along the underside as you took the first inch or two. "C'mon ya can take a lil' more, atta girl."
You couldn't say no to the praise coming from Daryl as you pressed forward again, stopping just before his cock moved far enough back in your throat to make you gag. You moaned lightly around him at the feeling of finally having your mouth on him, the sound vibrating in your throat sending a spark of pleasure through Daryl, You let your tongue do the work as you held him in your mouth, letting your body adjust to breathing through your nose as you traced along the vein that ran up the length before lapping over the rip.
"Suck." He said then, his voice breaking on the word as he tapped your full cheek. His hand found its way to your hair, tangling his fingers there as he slowly started to pull your head back before urging you forward again, setting your pace. He needed more, needed movement before he lost his mind. "Ya gotta suck and move yer head."
You followed his instructions, hollowing out your cheeks as you matched the pace he set for you, bobbing your head over his cock. His hand tightened in your hair as you sucked and he let out a low groan of your name, his head falling back towards the ceiling. You pressed your thighs together in hopes of getting some relief as you ached between your legs at the noises he made. You got a little too eager at how good you were making him feel and took him deeper than you could, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat and you gagged around him.
"Shit-" He moaned out at the feeling of sliding further into your throat, getting him even closer to the edge but he held himself back, resisting the urge to thrust his hips knowing it was too much for you. "Just breath, 'ts alrigh'. Easy sweetheart."
It sounded like he needed to listen to his own advice as his breathing grew heavy, his ragged breaths turning to groans as each movement brought him closer to the edge. You could feel your panties being ruined between your legs, growing wetter with each gasp and breathy moan of your name that fell from his lips. You started to gain more confidence and brought your hand up to join the mix, stroking what you couldn't take into your mouth
"Fuck!" Daryl practically growled low in his throat as he used his grip on your hair to pull you off him rougher than he'd intended as you started to move your hand harder along his cock. You looked up at him, wide-eyed with fear that you'd done something wrong but that quickly faded when you saw the look on his face. He collapsed backwards on the small bed, his eyes screwed shut as his hand tightened around the base of his cock, trying to regain control over himself. His chest was rising rapidly, a string of curses falling from his mouth. "Fuck- I almost fuckin' came. Christ woman how the hell was that your first time? That mouth is sinful."
"You could have you know," The mix of knowing just how good you'd made Daryl feel and your slight nervousness at matching his dirty talk made you giggle. You rested your chin on his thigh and looked up at him through your lashes, sinking your teeth into your already swollen and saliva-coated bottom lip. "Come in my mouth. Kind of hoped you would."
"Next time Darlin' next time." You could feel your heart racing at the thought of a next time with Daryl already. You never wanted anyone else after this, Daryl was all you needed. He leaned down and helped you up from the rough cell floor, his hands smoothing over the harsh red marks showing on your knees. You kind of hoped they'd last, as a reminder. "C'mere to me."
You crawled onto the bed next to Daryl as he sat up and finally shrugged off his leather bike vest and short-sleeved flannel, giving you a full view of his chest. His body was perfect, every mark and scar just adding to how attractive he was to you. You ran your hands over his skin, feeling the way his stomach muscles tensed under your touch the lower you reached. Every touch and every moment of this was better than you could have ever imagined. You could never have imagined how hard his muscles would feel under your hands as they moved to his forearms, tracing over the tattoos there.
Daryl's hands found their way back to your waist and he easily manhandled you, moving you however he wanted until you were lying down on the bed underneath him. He kneeled over you, grabbing your jaw in both hands as he crushed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss that knocked the air from your lungs. He was already strung out, his entire body on edge from how close he'd been earlier but still, his hands were gentle with you as they slid over your stomach, his kiss the only thing betraying how desperate he was.
He made quick work of your shorts, flicking the button open with one hand before pulling them down your legs. Within seconds of your shorts hitting the ground, Daryl sipped his hand into the front of your panties, slowly dragging his fingers across your folds as he felt how wet you were.
"This all for me? Did ya get this wet just from suckin' my dick?" He asked his voice dripping with that teasing tone that drove you wild, stopping his movements until you answered him.
"Yes. All for you Daryl." You gasped as he drew his fingers around your clit in painstakingly light circles as a reward for your answer. It was enough contact to send fire burning through your nerves but nowhere near enough to give you any kind of release. You bucked your hips up into his hand, hoping to get any kind of pressure but instead, he pulled his hand back out of your underwear moving to pull the already ruined material down your legs. He threw your panties to the side and returned his thumb to its previous position, brushing over your clit while he slowly pushed his middle finger inside you.
"Fuck ya really are tight aren't ya?"Daryl groaned out feeling the way you clenched around his finger as he imagined what it would feel like around his cock. He slowly pumped his finger in and out of you as he started to stretch you out. You were admittedly worried about being able to take Daryl when you felt the slight burn from his finger alone and he was bigger than you'd expected. "Don't worry sweetheart, I'll make sure yer ready."
The feeling of Daryl fingering you was unlike anything you could have ever had with your own hands. His fingers were thicker than yours, stretching you out as he a second one to the mix and they were skilled. Years of working with his crossbow gave him the precision he needed to find your g-spot as he hooked his fingers inside of you. You never knew it could feel this good when it was someone else bringing you pleasure. He leaned down and caught the sounds of your moans with his mouth in a messy kiss.
He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses across your jaw and down your throat towards your chest, you already knew they'd leave a mark as he sucked at your skin. His teeth nipped at your collarbone as you lost yourself in the pleasure that was starting to build higher and higher in the pit of your stomach. His tongue licked across your skin, soothing where he'd just bitten before slowly moving down to lap across the curve of your breasts. He focused his attention on you, trying to ignore how painful hard he was as he felt you buck up against his hand at another curve of his fingers. His lips latched around your nipple as his fingers never let up their pace, slowly stretching you out until Daryl could easily slide a third finger in.
Daryl grew restless with each minute that passed, changing his focus to your other breast as he sucked and lapped his tongue across the hardened nipple. The feeling of you clenching around his fingers as your hips thrust up to meet his movements drove him crazy. He couldn't take it anymore.
"Think ya can take me now sweetheart?" He asked, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear, his hot, uneven breath fanning across your skin. Your hands found his shoulders before sliding up to lock around his neck, pulling him into a kiss as you nodded. You were more than ready to feel Daryl inside of you, your body practically screaming at you with how badly you needed to come.
"Y-yeah Daryl please, please fuck me." You whined out at the feeling of Daryl pulling his fingers out of you, suddenly clenching around nothing. He brought his hand up admiring the slick coat of your arousal that coated his fingers before slipping them into his mouth. He let his eyes fall shut as he sucked, his tongue licking the taste of you from his fingers.
"Fucking hell woman, I'm eatin' that pussy first chance I get. Taste so damn sweet." He groaned out, that low gravelly sound pooling between your legs as you pictured Daryl's head between your thighs. "But right now I might just fuckin' explode if I don't fuck ya."
Daryl shifted you both into a more comfortable position as he settled between your legs, his hands pushing your thighs further apart. He took a minute to admire the sight of you spread open in front of him before he lifted one leg to wrap around his waist. You got the hint, digging your heel into the small of his back to pull him even closer. You could feel his cock pressing against your folds when he adjusted himself as close as he could get to you.
"Ya ready for this?" He asked looking down between your bodies as he took his cock in his hand and teased the head over your clit. You threw your head back at the feeling, your leg tightening around his waist.
"I want you, Daryl." You gasped out, nodding your consent as he move his cock lower to gather some of the wetness around your entrance. Lube hadn't exactly been a top priority on your last few runs but Daryl still wanted to make sure this was as comfortable as possible for you as he stroked himself, spreading your arousal over his cock.
With your final nod of approval, he pushed forward, the first few inches sliding inside you. You cried out at the feeling, your back arching off the bed as your hands grasped his arms, dragging your nails across his skin. Even with how much Daryl had tried to prepare you it still burned as your body fought to adjust to his size. Your chest heaved with your harsh breaths as you whimpered.
"Shh hush sweetheart yer alrigh'. Just breathe, it'll get better I promise. I'll go slow." You could feel your body relaxing from the simple words of praise from him as his hand cupped your jaw, swiping his thumb across your cheek. He moved at your pace, waiting until he felt your muscles relax, releasing their tight grip on him before he thrust forward again. This time he sunk into you fully, holding himself close to your body as he fought every instinct that was telling him to thrust, to just move. He buried his face in your chest, placing kisses between your breasts as he waited for you to adjust again.
"Daryl - move, please." The pleading tone in your voice sounded foreign even to your own ears but you couldn't help it. You had never felt this full, so completely surrounded as Daryl's body caged you into the bed. He stretched you out in all the best ways and even the pain it caused got you higher and higher. It felt like time slowed around you as Daryl stayed still inside of you and it was driving you crazy, you needed more, needed to feel him move.
Daryl wasted no time in giving you what you wanted, he pulled out almost entirely before thrusting back in. The rhyme he set was slow but deep, each thrust reaching a place inside you that had you moaning out at the contact. You gave into the feeling more and more as you adjusted, the pain giving way to pure pleasure. There was something freeing about being in the building alone, you didn't have to worry about who would hear you or what kind of attention you'd attract as your moans grew louder which each thrust until you were damn near screaming Daryl's name.
This feeling was far beyond anything you'd experienced before, beyond anything you could have imagined. Your senses were entirely overwhelmed by him, the feeling of each thrust building you towards the best orgasm of your life. The sound of his pants were growing heavier in your ear with each thrust and you were breathing in the rich, heady scent that was so unmistakably Daryl that made your head spin whenever you were around him.
You dragged your nails down his back, feeling the raised skin of his scars under your touch as you went, leaving new red marks after you. His thrusts were starting to grow sloppy, losing their rhyme as they came faster than before as he chased his own release while trying to keep his focus on you. His hands pinned your hips down to the bed as you tried to arch into the feeling, completely losing control of your body as your brain melted with how close you were.
All it took to break the pressure that was building inside of you was one swift drag of his thumb across your clit and you were spasming around him, your entire body freezing as you came hard. You grasped at him, needing something, anything to ground you as broken moans fell from your lips.
"Daryl! Oh god - I - shit - please. Please." You weren't sure what exactly you were begging him for anymore, all you knew was everything was too much and yet somehow not enough at all. Your control over your body entirely shut down as you turned to putty in his hands, letting him use you in whatever way he needed as he chased his own orgasm.
"Fuck ya feel fuckin' perfect, that pussy squeezin' me like that. Look so fuckin' sexy when ya cum like that for me. I coulda watched that forever." Daryl's words were becoming slurred as he spoke, barely making any sense anymore as his entire focus was on the feeling you were bringing him. His hips snapped roughly against you to the point of almost being painful before finally he rutted against you, moaning loudly into your neck as he came. You could feel him twitching inside you as he collapsed against you, his arms giving out underneath him. He didn't bother pulling out of you yet. "Doll ya have ruined me forever, I ain't ever gonna get as good a fuck with anybody else. Don't wanna either."
"Daryl that was - that was- holy shit." You laughed but it came out more breathy as you collapsed back against the pillows, trying to steady your breathing. Daryl slowly pulled out of you, the feeling making you groan out at the slight discomfort but you were almost glad of the ache that you knew would remind you of what you'd done for days.
"Hope that was as good as ya were expectin' for yer first time," Daryl said nuzzling his nose under your jaw as he lay down beside you on the small bed, turning you on your side so he could pull you back against his chest.
"It was more than perfect, thank you, Daryl." You reassured him as you tangled your arms with his that had settled around your waist. You lost track of how long you lay like that, simply enjoying each other's company as Daryl pressed light kisses across your skin. You could have easily fallen asleep like that and any other time and you would have but you were still technically on duty. "We should get back before the others start askin' questions."
Daryl hummed his agreement as he watched you sit up on the bed, running his hand up your back before you put your bra back on. He stood up from the bed as you started to dress yourself again and quickly threw back on his pants, walking over to grab a clean washcloth from the desk. Without saying a word he knelt down in front of you and gently wiped away the mess between your legs, leaving a light kiss against the outside of your thigh once you were clean. You could feel your heart flutter at the gesture, just the simple act of him taking the time to take care of you.
With your tank top still damp and abandoned in the sink of the washroom you slipped Daryl's oversized shirt on over your head before reaching to grab your panties from the pile of clothes. You glanced around in confusion when you noticed they weren't next to your shorts anymore.
"Daryl did you see my -" You looked up to see the cheeky grin on his face as he slipped his hand into his back pocket and dangled your panties from the tip of his finger in front of your face.
"Lookin' for these?" You rolled your eyes and reached to grab them from him but he quickly dodged your movement tucking them back into his pocket. "Consider it a keepsake. Until next time."
"Well in that case," You stood up slipping back on your shorts with nothing underneath, even after everything you'd just done it felt like the naughtiest thing you'd done all day. The denim rubbed against you in all the places you were still sensitive. You pushed up on your toes to kiss his cheek before whispering the next words in his ear. "I'll find a cuter pair for you to keep next time."
Taglist: @azanoni @ineedmorefanfics2
#aoife writes fanfiction#the walking dead#the walking dead fanfiction#the walking dead fanfic#the walking dead fic#the walking dead smut#daryl dixon#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon fic#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon smut
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lucky star.
Pairing: Dr. Frederick Frankenstein x Fem. Reader
Word Count: 6,645
Warnings: sexual content / smut
Summary: ‘Frederick, you are my lucky star,’ Your skin was burning hot and you thought you might spontaneously combust, ‘your radiance was too much and I couldn’t help myself…’ // You had been burned before, but never like this. // Frederick and Reader spend a loving, passionate night alone inside the castle.
Author's Note: Hopefully you all can forgive me for taking a small break from writing Wonka fics to write for another of Gene's roles. If you haven't seen Young Frankenstein, please go watch it. It's so damn funny and Gene is so attractive.
Edited.
divider created by @/saradika on Tumblr.
The cold air seeped down into your bones, penetrating your thin nightgown the same way the moonlight cut through the clouds and bathed the dank night in a milky haze. There was at least a foot of snow on the ground and the cold air bled through the castle walls. December was a brutal month to be up in the mountains; the winters here seemed to last a lifetime.
What little reprieve you had was the crackling fireplace in your quiet bedroom. You took up residency on the hearth, the stone-cold floors beneath your bare feet sending tremors through you, but it was nothing you wouldn’t suffer so long as you were able to stand before the fire.
This was how he found you most nights, your silhouette red-rimmed and glimmering from the firelight as each fragile little flame arched in a furious, swirling dance. Encased in stone, the flames could not travel, but you imagined them swallowing you whole.
Your body was a block of ice and you feared it would take a decade just to thaw your heart, but his presence melted the frost on your fingertips and got your blood pumping again. Such was your complicated relationship between this professor turned mad scientist.
The lick of the flame never heated you up like he did.
“Oh, you’re still there?” He asked in an amused tone as he entered your chambers, already shedding his coat to prepare for the long night ahead. He must’ve been exhausted, though you had no idea what he was working on down there in the laboratory. He abated your questions with affection, arms encircling your body like the flames you dreamed of and shielding you from the cold.
You turned just enough to glance at him over your shoulder, “every night,” you responded and turned back to the fire. The flames reflected in your dilated pupils danced in a blaze of infernal passion as though you were lit from within.
You heard him shuffling around behind you, but you paid him no mind. The flames enchanted you; you always dreamed in noire, but for the first time you could see in the color he had shown you.
Soft violin music permeated your senses and you suppressed a full-bodied shudder.
It was as if you had been summoned out of thin air, stagnant temptation veiled over you.
With your curves accentuated in firelight, you resembled the moon in all her shimmering, shivering opalescence. In her craters all alone, you were a woman scorned, a maiden murdered in cold blood, a ghost of herself digging her own grave to be buried alive, but inside of the castle you were unapologetically yourself. You belonged here as much as any of the other residents, a misfit to the rest of the world, a crisis of consequence, the quintessence of vice and virtue and all alone in every way except physical.
Your ears rang from the haunting harmony as you waited for warmth to come.
It finally did, in the form of your lover’s arms wrapped around you.
You saw less and less of him these days and you suspected a new achievement of his sometime soon, but he kept quiet about what it was. It was much easier to pretend he was falling out of love with you than to conjure any idea of what he had been doing for the last several days because in a state like this he was much more difficult to study than any lecture he might’ve once given. You would have gratefully taken down notes from him rather than pick apart his brain for the learning material.
If your love was ancient history, then why weren’t you hanging up in a museum yet?
As much time as he spent away from you it was imaginable that he forgot you existed, yet he always came back to you at night.
It was all just an idea, the seed of all science, which bore roots of hypotheses and germination in study and, if one were lucky, might someday bloom into spectacular results.
“I suppose you’ve still got no intention of letting me know what it is that you’re working on down there?”
The way in which his arms tightened around your body indicated the affirmative, but you were always going to be curious. Your tired game of pretending was no longer enough to satisfy your hunger for the truth and he knew it. His tender love would not sate you forever and if he didn’t swiftly act, you might begin to demand more. Not that he minded, really. Being wanted was pleasant and not something he was used to. His romantic relationships were stinted and tense, stifled and repressed. He succumbed to your advances and gave answers to your questions ultimately because you made him a priority.
He felt safe with you. No more longing glances at women who did not want him or elbow touches with the supposed “love of his life” because she didn’t want to mess up her outfit. He treated you with respect and with dignity because you offered him the same. He did not have to fit himself into a pre-cut spot in your life. You molded him into your heart, enveloping him in your love and holding him close to your chest because he meant that much to you. You wanted him there and he could feel it, all his nerve-endings alight with the sacred promise of love and mutual want and connection.
A gentle chuckle came from him and he leaned in close, lips by your ear, “I promise to tell you more about it soon, my dear. I feel that I am nearing a breakthrough.”
A breakthrough or a breakdown, you were uncertain which word best suited where he was headed. His wild curls appeared more and more disheveled each day because he couldn’t be bothered to style his hair when more important things weighed on his mind. His work consumed him to the point that when he dragged himself back to you at night, his mind was still buzzing with ideas and he seemed distant even though he did not mean to be.
Sometimes you caught him up reading long after you would have retired to bed for the night. When you thought he was sleeping beside you, he was poring over case studies and medical journals by candlelight. When your bed was cold and the spot beside you that he always occupied was empty, you would find him fast asleep at his desk, the rise and fall of his shoulders and gentle snores indicative of his peaceful slumber.
On nights like those would you guide him back to bed where he would curl in beside you and hold you close, sheltered through the night in his embrace until morning light touched your face.
Other nights were fitful and full of restlessness and nightmares. He would twitch and quiver, plagued by images no man was ever meant to see. He wouldn’t tell you what he dreamed of, even less about what frightened him, but you had reason to believe that his brain tormented him on occasion, such was the case of most, but with deep intellect came a price and he was much crueler to himself than any colleague of his might be.
He needed to unwind, to take comfort in closeness and sanctity from insanity.
He would work himself to death like this and you would be damned if you were to let that happen.
“That’s good news, darling,” your gentle response made him grin and you could feel the slight upturn of his lips against your cheek, “but do you think we might not speak about work tonight?”
“Well, if not that, then what shall we speak about?”
As he asked the question, he began to pull you in. Your bodies connected and with you flush against him you could feel his arousal, unabashedly betraying his aching need for you now more than he had felt in a lifetime for anyone else.
The pungent scent of frosted Frasier fir, candle smoke and scintillating wit clung to him, lingering like twilight hues on the longest day of the year. You inhaled, apt to lose yourself in him the same way he lost himself in his work, only now did you understand that there was much more to it than that. His work was important, but you were his love and that took up more space in him than the chunk of matter between his ears and the story of your lives filled more pages than any of the studies in his medical journals.
A night off would do him some good; for once, he could devote enough time to engage in a passionate, loving affair rather than a quick frolic and he would do well to remember how much he had always wanted something like this.
He wanted you now and would not wait. You made him forget who he was for a while and that was such a beautiful thing.
Dr. Frederick Frankenstein, a man whose names’ reputation preceded him, had learned that he could only put so much distance between himself and the truth. As absurd as it was to say, he had perhaps stumbled upon a secret that could not be contained, a truth so groundbreaking, a scientific discovery so unbelievable that it had to be believed to be seen…
Except, currently, the only thing he was seeing were blurred lines and the gothic undertones of lust which tinted his periphery. His lips slanted over yours and the modest friction from his wispy, sorrel mustache scraped deliciously against your cupid’s bow. The wet graze of your tongue sent a shiver through him and elicited a small grunt as his large hands swept down the length of your body and grabbed your hips.
Your pelvis ground deliciously against his and he groaned, “you’ll be the death of me, my love.”
Your closeness was the finger on the hairpin trigger of his desire. He felt like his aorta might burst at any moment and so, using every second he hoped he had left, he savored the warm press of your body on his and devoured every inch of your exposed neck. He was gentle at first, taking care not to mark your delicate flesh, but soon his intrinsic carnality corrupted him and he could not help himself from sinking his teeth into your skin.
You let out a breathy gasp and could feel him grinning against the column of your neck.
Your arms were around him, holding him to you mostly to steady yourself because if your hands had nothing to hold onto, you would have fallen to your knees for reasons beyond just lacking support in your current state. He would have approved of it now, although he was squeamish about it at any other time. He would have even encouraged you, with hands in your hair on the back of your head to guide you in pleasuring him, but no.
He wanted more. His body demanded more and he would have it so long as you were willing. He was tired of being asked to wait, his resolve worn down to nothing because he had gone without for far too long.
As a physician, he knew well the needs of the human body and the satisfaction that came from indulging one’s desires. He did not think on it all too much, but whenever he found himself alone and steeped in eroticism and longing, he had no choice. Everything you did turned him on and his cock throbbed at the thought of him burying it inside you.
It was inescapable. No matter how often he changed course or preoccupied his mind with other things, his thoughts always returned to you.
He moved you back towards the bed, the backs of your knees coming into contact with the edge of the mattress and you dropped down onto it, pulling him on top of you. He collided with your body, an animalistic growl clawing its way out of his throat as his hips grinded against yours.
This was unlike him, a version of himself that never saw the light of day – he kept it in a cage and fed it blood; only carnal desire was enough to sate its hunger.
He dragged his teeth along your neck as your fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons. He couldn’t take his lips off you, he had to kiss every inch of you. He needed it far more than he could communicate through words and luckily for him you did not ask him to. You were busy undressing him while he worshipped your body with his mouth, his tongue tasting your succulent flesh as he inhaled your heady scent. Your body was ripe for him to take a bite and he would devour every bit of you until there was nothing left to satisfy him.
He sat up enough to toss his jacket aside, undershirt now open to reveal the hint of bare skin and a dusting of hair several shades darker than the curls on his head. He looked ethereal in the low light, fire silhouetting him, and the edges of his body glistened as his dark pupils glittered and burned like glowing embers. A wildfire of its own raged within him as he was driven mad with lust. He kissed you feverishly, lips and teeth clashing with yours as he was anything but gentle with you in this moment.
His kisses were rough, but his delicate appearance contrasted his movements. His long, thick lashes fluttered against his cheekbones, accentuating his shimmeringly blue eyes that, even in such low light, glistened like gemstones. He had the softest features of any man you had ever seen and you would have paused to admire him if only he wasn’t so tempestuous in his urgency for you.
His hands slid up underneath your dress, fingers tantalizingly rubbing against the crotch of your panties and along your inner thighs. He unashamedly touched you and a smiled graced his lips as you moaned for him, arching your back as your hands splayed on his chest, scrabbling for purchase but you were hopelessly plummeting into the pit of your own desire with nothing to grab onto and no way to cushion your fall.
He rubbed you a little bit through your panties, but it was not enough.
He wanted to feel your wetness saturate the soft cotton, however, it would be much more appealing to him if his fingers were to glisten with your juices instead of allowing all your sweet honey to leak into your underwear. He ached to feel your tight heat clench around his long fingers as they curled inside you, delicately massaging your sweet spot as he guided you towards a climax. It was a boost to his ego, knowing he could pleasure you that way and with little to no difficulty. He was a physician, after all, and had had many lessons in human anatomy. He knew what he was doing and, though he would never say it, was prideful over the fact that he could bring you to orgasm with just his fingers and a few heated, teasing whispers.
Even if you were defiant and tried to hold out, those fingers of his were your weakness and he knew best how to use them. A stubborn girl presented a challenge and that interested him; Frederick wanted excitement and connection, not just clinical sex.
His fingers hooked under your panties and teased them down your legs, watching you squirm as you anticipated what might happen next. It was up to him to decide and the thought made him dizzy.
Your excitement was palpable. With sweating palms, you clutched onto the thin bedsheets and peered up at him, a halo of fire backlighting his frizz of curls. You were unable to keep still, thighs rubbing together in anticipation of his large, warm hands that would spread them apart. Your full-bodied blush was crushed into existence by rose petals and rouge and your exquisite form buzzed with giddiness and euphoria as he tenderly pulled your legs apart and nestled between them, shoulders against your thighs for support. You were hesitant to follow his lead, but you trusted him to care for you the same as he cared for his reputation.
He began almost immediately, wasting no time. Neck bent, head between your legs, he shamelessly suckled your clit and swilled your sweet nectar with instinctive, primordial hunger.
The doctor tasted you with insatiable vigor, his tongue lapping greedily at your glistening folds as you squirmed and writhed on the bed. You were grappling with yourself, attempting to stave off your own needs as your fingers splayed and flexed on the sheets as though you were imagining grasping onto him instead of the linens.
You wanted him, that much had been determined, however, you could see no end to his brutal self-satisfaction; he would take as much from you as you were willing to give, not because he had no thought of returning the favor, but because he had deemed himself a dying man long ago and you were his cure. This was what would set him free, seal his fate and claim his immortality, not whatever lined the pages of myriad medical journals he tutored himself with.
That did not matter. Perhaps this was all he had ever wanted: a beautiful love to have and to hold, who would, most importantly, meet and master his needs.
‘The needs of any man,’ he thought in defense of himself, ‘it isn’t just about love or sex…it’s science.’
That was what the young doctor told himself, especially during intimate moments such as these, when he found himself struggling to maintain consciousness as his tongue breached your center and delved into your core until your gentle moans crested into the shimmering, shivering crescendo of an orgasm.
You were on the cusp of one already.
You peered down at him and gasped; Frederick was a vision even when he wasn’t knelt between your legs, but such a position afforded you the best view of his facial features and he was a sight to behold.
His long lashes fluttered against his high cheekbones, the light from the fire defining the subtle curves and valleys of his face, the creases of concentration on his forehead and the swell of his parted lips as they suctioned around your clit. He pressed one finger inside of you, followed in quick succession by a second digit as he gently stretched you.
You moaned as his fingers scissored inside you and his tongue delicately teased and flicked your sensitive bundle of nerves. Tension coiled in your abdomen as you could feel the bud of an orgasm beginning to grow.
Despite his lust for your body, his mind was focused only on your pleasure. No paltry sum would be enough to make him use his advanced knowledge for just his benefit; he loved you and even though he could only stave off his most primal needs for so long, there would be no mistaking his devotion.
He pulled away and his parted lips glistened with saliva and your juices. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, savoring the essence of you left behind, “oh, my darling,” he crooned, hand reaching out and fingers burying into your soft hair, “oh, my only love…”
When he uttered those words to you, he meant them.
You would not dismiss him whenever he made such professions of love. His words resonated within you, cut through you like a sharp scalpel through soft skin, peeled back the muscle and tissue that clung to your ribcage to nestle deep within your chest cavity, taking up residency inside your beating heart. Everything that he said made sense, as though you had been the one his words were always meant for.
His outfit was disheveled to a state comparable to his wild mane which stuck out in curlicue flyaway strands going in all directions.
Your heart was beating rapidly, pumping blood through your veins and carrying his love for you outwards and to every part of your body. Your core ached and throbbed with need and your lower lip jutted in a pout of disappointment at being denied your first orgasm.
Frederick watched you squirm with a hooded gaze, taking in your exquisite beauty as you arched your back enticingly and rolled your hips despite the lack of friction, “May we continue, my dear? I’d say you’re as ready as ever…”
You felt far away from yourself as you nodded and nothing else was going through your mind other than connecting with your lover, physically, emotionally and mentally.
He had a pleased expression on his face when you consented and he stripped off his undershirt, exposing his bare chest. You sat up and reached for him, warm hands caressing his stomach, his sides, his broad chest. Every inch of him burned with intense passion and desire and his heart skipped a beat with every touch of your hands on his skin. He took a shaky breath, entranced by the way you held him close, needy for his affection and craving more of his love.
He bent his head and nipped at your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.
His dominance pervaded your senses and hindered your ability to reciprocate in as many ways as you would have liked. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase on his lower back as he sat up a bit straighter and began unbuckling his belt. You were on your knees, the soft bed linens beneath your legs was comfortable as you nibbled and kissed his neck, drawing sweet, almost feminine moans from him. He could hardly focus on what he was doing because the touch of your lips was too intoxicating. He was drunk off your love and every bit of attention you afforded him stilled his fingers as he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers.
After a moment, you had to help him. You tenderly popped open each button for him before your hand slipped inside and cupped him through his underwear. The sound he made was somewhere between a moan and a shrill whine; your lips turned upwards into a smirk and you leant over him, biting at his sensitive neck as your fingers danced over the length of his aching erection.
“Oh ho ho, darling…” he grasped your wrist, but did not try to stop you, “oh, how you tease me…”
Perhaps it wasn’t fair to tease him in this state, but he could stand to wait a bit longer for you. As maddening as it was, you were enjoying the foreplay far too much to let it end yet.
You quieted him with a kiss as sweet as the tulips in spring, stifling his moans of pleasure as your hand slid beneath the barrier of his underwear and held his rigid flesh in your hand. He mewled in ecstasy as you gave him a firm stroke.
Your lips broke apart and he pressed his forehead against yours, “darling, I can’t wait any longer…you’re killing me.”
An unsurprising choice of words, given the status of his most recent experiments, though you would be none the wiser.
If there were a way to achieve immortality and worldwide acclaim for his scientific achievements in the medical field, Dr. Frederick Frankenstein would find it; he would devote the rest of his life to such a cause if it meant he could spend an eternity in your loving embrace, to be brought to completion by your hands and your body.
“I’m all yours, Frederick,” you whispered to him and you could’ve sworn the flames inside of the fireplace leapt for joy at that statement, “I always have been.”
He groaned at your words and his manhood throbbed in your hand, aching to be inside you. He nosed along your jaw, snuffling and nuzzling your cheek as his lips pressed kisses onto your face. His body was filled with love and that was what kept him alive, not the heart that was beating inside his chest.
His head dropped down to your chest and his lips attached to the swell of your breasts that peeked out from the top of your dress. He murmured against your skin, fingers snagging on your dress as he fought to pull it off you, but your touch on his most sensitive area rendered him useless beyond simple measures of attention. For you to have isolated control over a mind as intelligent and focused as his was some feat and had you a mind to control him, it would have been easily done.
However, the only control you had was already slipping away now that the cloying desperation had begun to take hold of you.
You gave his manhood several more deliberate strokes, savoring the little noises he made as he tried not to lose control.
When you removed your hands, his cheeks were flushed and his chest heaved as he dragged air into his once-barren lungs which now bore flowers, petals of pining and passion blooming in this season of love and making it difficult for him to catch his breath.
He grinned as you and he made eye contact and you were submerged into those icy blue depths, treading water out there in the deepest, lapis lazuli pools.
“And I am yours, my dear,” he whispered as he cupped your face, thumbprints kissing the rosiness into your cheeks, “now and forever.”
His kiss seared through you, sweeping the love back into you that had spilled out through the cracks in your soul. You were mesmerized by the feel of his mouth hovering over yours, breaths mingling and lingering between the two of you like morning fog between fir trees.
You were one already, even without the connection between your two bodies, although that was to come as Frederick slipped away from you long enough to remove the rest of his clothing while you did the same.
Completely naked, you were warm clay to be molded by his steady, capable hands.
You hoped Frederick would shape you in the image of the love he had for you so that you could kiss his chiseled ivory cheeks, bringing your stone-cold lover to life.
He hesitantly touched your body, reverent in the way that he let his hands gently hold your hips and guide you beneath him on the bed.
However many times he had done this, when he was with you it always felt like the first time. In truth, his first time was not what he had imagined: awkward, halting and less than satisfying for both him and his partner, but more than likely it had been a deep disappointment to her rather than to him. He cringed at the thought whenever it surfaced unbidden and stowed it away with the rest of his deeply embarrassing faux pas.
The inexperience of his youth was not something he could fault himself for, as is the same for anyone, but now that he was older and wiser and had become a more experienced lover, he finally felt like he had earned the right to claim such a lovely woman as you. He had earned his right to be your lover, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, but in death he was determined that you should not have to part.
Frederick made a mental note to put everything he had into solving the mystery of life after death, to secure yours and his immortality so that neither of you might face such sadness as to outlive the other.
Nothing so melancholy would reach either of you tonight.
Frederick loomed over you, catching your gaze as you wriggled into position beneath him. Your legs wrapped snugly around his hips and he propped himself on his forearms so that he did not put his full weight on you.
He reached between your bodies, taking himself in hand as he guided himself to your entrance. He pushed into you, taking note of your slight wince and the way your body twitched as he entered you as gently as he could manage. Your wetness was the perfect natural lubricant and he had prepared you quite nicely to be able to accommodate him.
One of his hands took hold of yours and squeezed, grounding you as he finally claimed your body. You held fast to him, your lips parted in a silent expression of pleasure as you adjusted to the fullness of him being inside you.
Frederick eased into you slowly, taking care not to hurt you or cause you any unnecessary discomfort. If he could avoid it, Frederick would not ever bring you any pain. He wanted you to want this as much as he did and so he took his time with you, being as careful as he could be. Your pleasure meant as much to him as his own; he would have felt terrible if you got no enjoyment out of your shared intimacy.
“Are you alright, my love?” he asked breathily as he bit back a moan.
He stilled once he had slid in to the hilt, awaiting your approval and permission.
You let go of his hand and instead wrapped your arms around his body, clinging to him fully so that he felt the reciprocation of the love he was giving you, “I am, darling,” your whispered against his skin as you kissed his shoulder, making his eyelids flutter as his eyes rolled back.
He groaned, wanting to let instinct take over so that he could finally, finally have his way with you. His hips curved and bunched as he resisted the urged to let go and lose control of himself, but he did not allow himself to move until he sensed you were getting impatient. Slowly, carefully, he began to pull out, only to thrust back into you with a deliberate snap of his hips.
The initial force of his thrust forced the breath from your lungs and imparted to you the desperation behind his every move.
Frederick was a romantic at heart.
Even though he was still just a man, his craving for love rather than sex for the sake of having sex made moments like this feel even more potent with raw emotion and need he had for his partner. He had made mistake after mistake in his past relationships and he was determined not to make a mess of things like he once had done. There was a sense of predestination between you and Frederick, as if the two of you were meant to be together before either of you were aware. Your paths only crossed because you were brave enough to grasp the string of fate and follow it until you came face to face with him.
You believed it now to be the case because your soul had become magnetized, gravitating to him as he now became your orbital center.
It was as if the planets and the fates had aligned to bring you together; you did not like clichés except for ones which reminded you of Frederick because no matter how many times those words were spoken, they rang true for the two of you.
Frederick quickened his thrusts once you were properly adjusted to him.
He glided into you with ease, taking care to soak up all your moans and pleasurable sounds as your bodies moved in unison.
You clawed ferociously at his back, digging in your nails as his maddening pace awoke some deeply instilled, hidden carnality buried within your soul. Your kisses were reckless and rough, tying his tongue down with promises whispered in sloping cursive.
The sound of skin slapping skin echoed throughout the room as you made love, the gentle groans and moans he emitted bringing you closer and closer to your release. You caressed him, gentle with him now as you wanted to convey to him that he was special.
‘Frederick, you are my lucky star,’ Your skin was burning hot and you thought you might spontaneously combust, ‘your radiance was too much and I couldn’t help myself…’
The beauty of stars was meant to be admired from afar; inside of his eyes did they shimmer, but up close, they blazed.
You had been burned before, but never like this.
You gripped onto his hair, giving it a gentle tug, which made him groan even louder and his next thrust was perceptibly harder as he seemed to like when you pulled on his hair.
“I love you, Frederick…”
The confession spilled out of you in a flood as you anticipated the light in his eyes leaving him as all the color drained out once the weight of your words set in.
“I love you, too,” he panted, repeating those words back to you with no hesitation, as though he had been waiting to hear you say it.
It still felt like the first time, as you had often been told was the truth with true love. You had not believed in it until you met Frederick, though even now it seemed foreign to your system. Perhaps it was that you were still in shock after plunging deep into those electric pools of blue, but you shone just as bright as the galaxies in his eyes and if this was love then you would have looked for him in every lifetime, anticipating the feeling he evoked in you the first time you met.
He wanted you too, waded through tide pools and wept away the storm clouds in his eyes so he could see clear enough to find you.
He clutched you to him, his rhythm faltering as he crept closer and closer to release. His moans took on a higher pitch and you savored his whimpering as the heaviness of your own release had sworn you to silence.
At last, did he coax a moan from you and, once the dam had been broken, you were unable to silence the sounds which spilled tantalizingly from your lips like honey drizzle from spoon to teacup.
You and Frederick were finally one with each other, two halves of a whole like a split peach fitted back together, the fruit of your consummation leaking juices from your pierced flesh.
You devoured him, holding him close as your moans became louder and more drawn out until pleasure crashed over you like a tidal wave and plunged you into euphoria.
Your orgasm spread outward throughout your body and your skin tingled, your core throbbing as he continued his thrusts until he released inside of you, announcing his climax with a soft cry of completion. Several short bursts of heat filled you, warming you from the inside as he came, his lips parted in sweet bliss and relief.
His wiry, tufts of fluffy curls framed his round face and you gazed at him in amazement, in awe over what you had just done as well as his beauty. Sweat clung to his brow and he took several shuddering breaths before he was able to move again and pull out of you, taking up the spot by your side as he reached over you with one arm and brought you in against his side.
You curled up against him, letting him place a lingering kiss on your shoulder as he held you in the dark room. Your sweaty bodies glistened, dewy, slick skin sticking to each other, a perfect testament to what had just taken place.
Frederick’s body was a galaxy and every freckle on his skin formed a different constellation.
You wondered idly which one were you a part of and how many ways there were to connect them.
The graze of his nose on your arm made you turn your head to look at him and he was smiling at you as he held you.
‘The human body is meant to hold another,’ he had told you once, ‘look at how perfectly our hands fit together…how easy it is for me to hold you in my arms.’
He was right, it seemed, for you fit perfectly against his body like you were made just for him, as though the universe crafted you as each other’s perfect lover.
There was no such thing as perfection, but what you shared was as close to that as a human being could ever get and, if Frederick had anything to do with it, he swore that he would find a way to share eternity with you even if it meant being buried with you till you were nothing more than two skeletons in each other’s arms.
An end which did not have to be so grim, yet Frederick accepted that as a mere part of who he was.
As he swept you into his arms now, pulled you on top of his chest as the two of you giggled and laughed like lovestruck teenagers, Frederick knew that he would do anything for you, even accept that he could not outrun his fate.
He was a Frankenstein and some things could not be helped, but with you by his side it all became worth it and suddenly he could not understand why he had fought it so hard, other than the fact that he had something else to prove rather than letting himself be defined by the past, his fate determined by those who lived before him.
His love for you cancelled out the afflictions to his spirit, the blows he had taken from turning a blind eye to what he only hoped now might be true.
In this place, he would find it.
He was on the cusp of making such a miraculous discovery, that much was he certain.
Perhaps it should have concerned him that he was chasing something so morbid, but this dream, once realized, could mean the difference between life and death, between her heart and his. He was not doing this for the wrong reasons now, and maybe that would be enough for it to work.
Perhaps that was the key to unlocking his grandfather’s scientific masterpiece.
Your gentle kisses on his cheek comforted him as he slipped even deeper into thought, contemplating what he had that his colleagues did not: love.
That was the difference.
Science was supposed to be unbiased and supported by fact rather than feeling, but an impossibility transcended bias and factual evidence; would it not make some sliver of sense that if all things possible were supported by scientific evidence, that all things impossible were only able to be maintained by those who were bold enough to challenge science itself?
Frederick’s peers were not led by love as he was, otherwise, it might not have been the name ‘Frankenstein’ that was known by many yet understood by few.
As you settled atop Frederick with the side of your face against his bare chest, letting the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull you as your eyelids grew heavier and heavier, you were content to be one of those few.
Frederick held you to him, hands splayed lovingly on your back.
He had never felt more himself than in this moment; for once in his life, he was proud of who he was.
He did not think it would be the last time he felt that way, especially with you by his side.
As the two of you drifted off, snuggled in the embrace of one another, you slipped into what would be and let the rest crumble away.
You loved Frederick far too much to let yourself be consumed with worry for what was to come.
Whatever you faced, you would face it together.
With love guiding you, nothing could come in between you, not even death.
#gene wilder#young frankenstein#dr frederick frankenstein#frederick frankenstein#frederick frankenstein x reader#frederick frankenstein imagine#young frankenstein imagine#biblio :: 📖
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Hello there autistic jedi.... I have one simple question for you.... Could you tell me everything about your Michael Afton please and thank you
Why hello there connectionteterminated13.... I have a not so simple answer....
Also I thought tumblr deleted this but it didn't! Thankfully omg.
So! *claps hands together* I'm working on an AU rn, as in, first chapter is 75% doneish, and I have a plan sorta.
Things could definitely change as I change things constantly if I get a better idea.
So my Michael Afton...this poor boy, oh God where do I start...
Trigger warning for child abuse and self harm mentions under the cut
When Michael was 16, he walked downstairs to find his mother dead in his father's arms by his hand. Michael is of course horrified and tries to call the police, but William threatens him into staying silent.
Michael was very close with his mom, and her loss caused him a lot of pain understandably. Especially when, now that Clara is gone, William can hurt and lash out at Michael as there's no one to stop him. William never liked Michael, as he was an accident baby, and later caused the death of Evan (accidentally of course, Michael is haunted by the guilt every day).
After being compared to his father (the two look near identical, only that Michael's eyes are bright blue and he has freckles), Michael takes matters into his own hands and purposely burns half his face so that he won't ever be mistaken for his father again.
When Michael graduates high school, he decides to run away, he's an adult now, there's nothing stopping him from running. He packs his car up and starts to drive, no destination in mind. As he's driving, he starts to see signs for Las Vegas, and decides he'll go there, he's always wanted to visit.
Here is Mike (made with picrew so not exact but close to what I have in mind, the cross necklace was his mother's)
He arrives in Las Vegas and explores the city, immediately loses $10 to a slot machine and decides to never gamble again (smart man).
While wandering around, he ends up meeting the owner of a club, who immediately offers him a job as a security guard.
See, Michael may have soft, wide eyes and be mostly soft-spoken, but he's tall. As in, 6'8 tall. So he's pretty intimidating.
He enters the club, and his eyes fall to one of the dancers on stage, who's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.
Meet Nancy Schmidt (stage name Serenity), an aspiring dancer.
Mike is head over heels in love with her at first sight. He walks her to her car every night, and finally he works up the courage to ask her out on a date. She agrees, and he skips all the way home.
Their first date is a bit rocky, as Mike has no idea how to be romantic, but they work things out, go on more dates, and start to fall in love. He spends three years with her, they move in together, he's planning on proposing, all is well.
Until his father gives him a call, says he needs his help with something to do with his sister. (Who Michael thinks went missing) He doesn't want to go back, but Nancy, who has no idea about William's abuse and murder, tells him he should go back, just so they don't end on bad terms, like her and her father. So he agrees.
And then he gets scooped.
He wanders around as Ennard until Ennard makes a dash for the sewers, leaving Michael an empty husk. He limply crawls to the only person he knows I'm town that might help him.
His Uncle Henry.
Henry has been a complete shut in since Charlie died back in '83, Michael hasn't seen him in years.
He knocks on his door, it's late, Henry opening it to find Michael slumped on the ground, his chest haphazardly stitched together. Michael begs for his help, which Henry gives, taking him inside and doing his best to properly stitch him up.
After being scooped, Michael doesn't call Nancy, to ashamed of his appearance to tell her, hoping she'll just find a new man and move on. But she doesn't, tracking down Fazbear’s and giving them a call, and while William nor Henry own it, she manages to get Henry's contact info and gives him a call. He tells her that Michael is here, without telling Michael.
Nancy drives down immediately, knocking on Henry's door, who let's her in.
She hears Mike in the kitchen, begging her to stay away. He's hiding in the dark, and when she flips on the light, she's horrified. She asks what happened to him, who did this to him. She steps closer and cradles his face, she's so worried about him.
Much to Michael's shock, she's worried, not disgusted with him.
Michael explains what happened, not just the scooping but everything before that. His father abusing him and killing his mother, how he got his burn scar, etc. She holds his hands as he explains, heartbroken at how much he kept inside.
Michael expects her to leave, but she won't, she's staying with him, he's still the same man she fell for, just purple and missing most organs.
There's so much more to get into, they get married, they have a kid, how the games play into the story, the ghost kids, Scrap Ballora, etc. But this is enough for now I think :D
If you made it this far, thank you! Some of these details will change when I write the actual fic of course. Thank you so much for asking me!
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The reality if ‘The Winchesters’ fails:
So I’ve seen a lot of discourse surrounding The Winchesters the supernatural prequel series and I have decided to put in my two cents because why not. For reference I have a degree in marketing and public relations and took multiple media studies courses while I was in college. If you needed some reason to take my word on this topic and know it has some legitimacy and that it’s not just an opinion piece.
The Winchesters has been controversial from its conception. I’ll be honest with you I wasn’t even interested in it when it first was announced. However the reality here is if it fails that’s it that’s the end of the supernatural universe. If you don’t want to watch it by all means don’t watch something you’re not interested in. But if you’re wishing for it to fail and crash and burn let me spell out the reality there for you.
If the prequel fails there will be no continuation no fix it, no empty rescue, no heaven break out. Well why? Well because we’re working with tv which is at its core a business. The CW and Warner Bros have invested a lot of money into The Winchesters and trusting CMP to give them a product that will be profitable. You often don’t get multiple chances with TV business. CMP is working directly with Warner Bros and The Winchesters is their first project. If The Winchesters fails and doesn’t bring in the money or viewership it’s supposed to it will not get picked up for the back half of their season and it will get cancelled. The network is not likely to continue to support a universe that didn’t make them money or a production company who’s first major project flopped. So you can kiss away your dreams of more supernatural projects.
Supernatural already has two spin offs (Bloodlines and Wayward Sisters) that got canceled before they could even start. Both of these coming during supernaturals initial run when supernatural was at its peak popularity. So a spin off prequel is a risk for a network that didn’t see viability in two past spin offs. But they do see it here. They do see potential and with a successful prequel we are opening up a whole world of possibilities within the supernatural universe. But if it fails and crashes and burns as so many people wish it to, that’s it. That’s the end.
Some of you might say: But If this fails can’t we just show them we want a different show in the supernatural universe? No. Simply the investors and higher ups are going to look at numbers and when they see numbers that don’t match their monetary projections they are going to abandon that universe completely and write it off as not profitable. They will move on to something else. And these investors won’t be looking at your tweets and tumblr posts saying oh we don’t want this we want something better. They will not care. This is a money game for them and they will put their time and energy into what makes them money. Jensen saying hate watch it wasn’t completely a joke. The numbers are what matter to the network not the reasoning behind watching or not watching.
This is the ground we need to build off of to get to where we want to end up. If you want a future for the Supernatural universe and want the possibility for a finale fix it, for a empty rescue, for a heaven breakout, this is where we need to start and it needs your support. We need The Winchesters to succeed. I’m writing this not to try to convince anyone who might not be interested but to explain to those of you wishing it’s downfall the ramifications of this failing.
-laur
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Active Authors Masterlist (9)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 /
***Active (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer who has updated within the past year. Inactive (on this blog) is defined as a blog/writer that has not been updated at all in the past year+. On THG Writing Hiatus (on this blog) is a blog/writer who has updated within the past year but has not posted a fanfic in the fandom in the past year BUT they may return to writing in the future. Lists will be updated as needed based on activity. ***
Created: January 7th, 2023
Last Checked:-----
AntiKryptonite :: ao3
Popular Fic: Banked Flames and Burned Bread-A spark can catch fire in an instant, and before Katniss ever even knew he was alive, Peeta was already on fire. // In some ways, Katniss fell in love with Peeta the minute those burned loaves of bread hit the muddy ground.
Court81981 :: ao3, ffnet
Popular Fic: Crash My Party-Modern AU. Peeta Mellark has never been able to say no to Katniss Everdeen. But after years as friends with benefits, that's going to have to change. Everlark.
daydreamsandcaffeine :: ao3, tumblr
Popular Fic: Naughty or Nice-Summary: Peeta lost a bet, so now he has a temporary new holiday uniform. Katniss reaps the benefits. A holiday modern AU
deinde_prandium :: ao3, tumblr
Popular Fic: Extension Request-“Are you sure you didn’t ask for an extension?” “Pretty sure. I don’t remember sending anything.” “Well, you might want to search your memory again, because your inbox has an email from a Peeta Mellark with the subject line, ‘Re: paper extension pretty please.’” --- In which Katniss learns the hard way that it's never a good idea to email your TA when hopped up on pain medication. Especially when that TA is someone as attractive as Peeta Mellark.
FanficAllergy :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr
Popular Fic: Let Me Fly-When a plague hits District Twelve, Katniss is forced to make some very hard decisions. Together with Gale and what’s left of their families, they decide to escape District Twelve, taking a reluctant Peeta Mellark with them. (@fanficallergy)
hutchabelle :: ao3, ff.net, tumblr
Popular Fic: Too Familiar-Katniss and Peeta enjoy a close friendship that might be a little too familiar, especially when one of them is married. Prompt: Envy
oh_so_loverly :: ao3, ffnet, tumblr
Popular Fic: Closer-Seventeen-year-old Katniss Everdeen returns to her childhood home after years of living out of state, only to find that the town, and certain residents in it, are not quite how she remembers- especially a certain boy who she could have sworn once had blue eyes.
orangecranscones-ao3
Popular Fic: i've been on fire, dreaming of you
"I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again." Katniss and Peeta try to heal after the revolution. And they (mainly Katniss) finally learn how to love each other.
Strawberry_Cow725-ao3
Popular Fic: Help Me Hold Onto You
“I didn’t want to lose you! I didn’t mean to lie to you, I just– I didn’t want to lose you.” I suck in a shaky breath. “And this is all so much, so fast that I can’t even make sense of it. And I’m so scared of whatever I’m feeling, and of who I’m going to be from now on, and what’s going to happen after we get off this train. But I still don’t want to lose you.” — Katniss doesn't let Peeta walk away on the train tracks.
Word_Addict :: ao3, tumblr
Popular Fic: You Make Me Feel-Peeta and Katniss meet, not at the Reaping, but at a dance months later. Will they still find a spark, even without the Games to ignite it?
#authors#active authors masterlist#active authors#everlark fanfiction#thg fanfiction#everlark#masterlist#thg
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Burning Matches Pt. 1
Of New Sights and Colors
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Summary: Ch. 3 - "In an idle sort of way, none of them had expected for Noir’s blood to be black. None of them had expected that their sudden appearance would be just the distraction that the Lizard had needed. None of them had expected for that very black and very unexpected blood to be painting the wall behind him as Lizard’s claws dug into his flesh, and sent his body flying limply to hit the wall with a wet-sounding smack." - A story based on recovery, color, and the knowledge that you're not alone.
_
In honor of the new Spider-Verse movie coming out, I am going to be posting the entirety of Burning Matches to tumblr. It's already posted on AO3 under the same title, username HopelesslyLost, so if you want it, you can find it. As it is, I've been avoiding it because it's HUGE, but I figure I might as well.
Buckle up.
-
It was horrifying. It was dizzying. His mind spiraled in a million different directions, his body pressing against hard concrete as he desperately attempted to draw breath into his lungs, fingers scrabbling at the building, seeking something, anything that he could use to ground himself. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back, trying to focus on the roughness of the concrete that he could feel, ripping his gloves off in order to be that much closer, barely remembering to shove them in a pocket as he did so. He didn’t even notice the fact that his fingers had dug into the rough edges to the point where they were starting to bleed.
His breath was still rattling in his lungs, his body still tense, but if he kept his eyelids closed, he could at least pretend that nothing had changed.
What had happened?
One moment, Peter had been swinging after some two-bit crooks, intent on putting them on ice after they had shot up one of the poorer localities…and in Hooverville, that was saying something. The next, he had somehow swung into something that squeezed him tighter than the Sandman, and hit harder, too. When he finally was spat out of whatever it was that caught him, he found himself here. This…this…
Peter didn’t know what this was. He didn’t know what was surrounding him, had no idea what was happening, why he was here, where here even was! What was happening? Slowly, slowly, Peter peered out through his goggles, his eyes squinted as narrow as he could make them and still be able to see.
It was like an icepick was driving into his skull.
Peter closed his eyes again, heaving a breath in, and letting it whistle out.
He was having a panic-attack, pressed to the side of an unknown building, and all because he didn’t know what he was seeing. What an absolute clusterfuck. This was stupid, this wasn’t him. He had adjusted to being bitten by a spider and seeing a Spider-God before him, he had adjusted to being able to shoot webs out of his own wrists, and climb on walls - he could do this.
He could do this.
He opened his eyes and kept them open against the searing brilliance that pierced him and forced himself to actually look at what surrounded him. It made his eyes water and his pupils kept sliding over everything, unable to focus on what he was seeing. Eventually finding it too much, he instead turned his attention up, away from the flashing of…whatever it was. Was he having a stroke? A seizure? What the fuck was going on?
Focus on the sky, Pete, focus on the sky, he thought to himself, heaving in another deep breath. The sky was…the sky was odd, too. It was as open and as big as his own, but the…he didn’t even know what to call it. He didn’t know what it was that was spread out over him, that was tinting everything… Peter focused on the big fluffy clouds that drifted across the sun, taking in their appearance, the way they were so normal, and finally closed his eyes again.
Maybe this was it, maybe he was dying.
A sudden pain lanced through his head, a sharp and sudden feeling that was like his spider-sense was on overdrive, giving him the feeling like there were a million spiders crawling up his spine. His eyes flew open and there was something else over him.
Peter’s first thought was to reach for his gun, to shoot the thing that was between him and the semi-familiar sight of the sky, but the thought faded as quickly as it came. As soon as he made…eye-contact? with the thing that was above him, the feeling of spiders changed to something else. Something familiar. It almost hurt, but it didn’t, a feeling of such strong connection it was almost like he was looking at himself in the mirror.
“You…” he started softly, distantly recognizing another softer, distorted, and certainly more feminine voice say the words at the same time, “you’re like me…”
A…hatch for lack of a better word, opened up in the strange metallic thing that rested over him, blocking the sun, and a…little girl stared down at him, her eyes wide and…he hadn’t ever seen eyes like that before. A little too big, a little too bright, but at the same time he still felt like he knew them. He felt like he knew the one that was looking at him, like he was connected to her. It was an odd thought and he wasn’t sure how much he liked it, but it stuck. Because she was like him.
“Are you okay?” the girl asked him, those eyes changing, becoming even bigger, if it were possible, worry in their depths.
“I…” he started, and then shook himself. Peter saw the way that she kept glancing around her as though waiting for someone to spot them, he saw the way that she pressed into the torso of her…machine, even as she asked how he was. This odd little girl was scared, and he didn’t want to cause her anymore fear. He took all of his fear, all of his pain, and all of his confusion and balled it up internally before shoving it deep under his ribs, to be ignored until he got a spare minute (the fact that he never got a spare minute was ignored).
“I’m sorry, kiddo, I’m fit as a fiddle, just…a little disoriented.” He focused on her face, focused on those eyes, fighting to ignore everything else. “Are you alright? Are you…from here?” He pushed himself away from the building, watching as the…robot? backed up a few paces as stood up before it, allowing them to stare at each other roughly eye-to-eye. She was covered in…whatever everything else was covered in, her clothing an odd light tone, and her face shaded much differently than he thought it should be. She looked as though she could have belonged…perhaps…if everything else wasn’t so…bright.
Sure enough, she shook her head.
“I was pulled here, I…don’t know what happened, exactly, but I think we’re both in an alternate dimension,” as she spoke her voice sharpened, and her expression cleared, all of her focus on him. The fear had left her in her rush to explain, and Peter knew immediately that this was her element. “You obviously don’t belong here, you’re completely in black and white which goes against everything around us, and everything that I have seen. I also don’t belong here, see, this is the year 2018, and I’m from the year 3145.”
“Woah, back-up, it’s 2018 here?” Peter asked, finding something else to trip him up. This was shortly followed by the realization, “You’re from 3145? Who are you, kiddo, what’s your name?”
“Yes,” she responded before straightening up and reciting, “My name is Peni Parker, and I work with the SP//dr mech, my father’s mech,” she patted the interior of the…mech she was in, said mech making a pleased-sounding chirp and putting its ‘hands’ on its ‘hips.’ “Before…before he died that is. I connect to it through a psychic link with a spider that lives within the robot and together we protect New York.” She grinned, and as she spoke Peter watched as a rather large spider crawled into view with a feeling of trepidation clawing its way up his spine, watching as it perched on her shoulder and gave a brief cheer. When it did nothing else he slowly allowed himself to relax, but couldn’t keep his gaze away from that spider. “We’re a great team!” She called out and held up a finger that...the Spider tapped back with one of its legs. What the fuck. After a moment of thought he resolved to leave it alone unless it got too close. Peter had been bit before. He wasn’t going to be bit again. “I love to hack into mainframes and I love New York!” She called out brightly and broke his train of thought, and the triumphant pose they had both fallen into after their...tap...held for another few seconds before breaking and she gave a slight frown. “What about you? I know you’re like me, I can feel it, but…”
“Well…” Peter paused, trying to think of a way to condense everything he had gone through into something that would be kid-friendly and wouldn’t make the kid either pity him or…be traumatized. “My name is Peter Parker. Where I’m from the year is 1933, and I’m a Private Investigator… I got bitten by a magic spider that gave me spider powers and I’ve been using them ever since to put a dent in the crime that plagues New York. I like…” he hesitated on what he could say that he liked, looking into those wide and interested eyes and fishing through the possibilities. “I like egg creams, and I like to punch Nazis.” He paused at seeing the way that she seemed to dim, not at the idea of him punching Nazis, he could tell, but…almost at the lack of enthusiasm, and spat out something else, “I like to let matches burn down to my fingertips, sometimes, so I can…” he let his voice die out.
Her expression had only turned sadder, somehow, the robot lowering itself from its proud pose into something more somber.
Smooth.
“So, you can what?” she asked. And even her mech looked upset, which was even smoother. How the hell did he fuck it up this much?
“So, I can feel something,” he answered finally. “But that’s not important. If you’re not from here, and I’m not from here, why are we here? And where is here?”
“From what I’ve managed to gather, which isn’t much, admittedly, the technology here is all so…old,” she griped, “it doesn’t connect well with my SP//dr. But I do know there is a Spider-Man! I was in the middle of seeing if I could track him when I felt…well, I felt like there was someone I had to see around.” She ducked her head slightly. “I had thought at first that it might be him, since…well, I thought he’d be the only one from here. But I’m okay with finding you!” She grinned, a bright and happy expression. “I’m just…glad to not be alone.”
Peter nodded and kept his eyes focused on the little girl before him, watching as she shrunk slightly at the admission, her foot gently circling the metal floor of her pod. He idly wondered if she could stick to walls on her own, or if she was simply at the mercy of the robot’s abilities. The idea frightened him in an idle sort of way. Being that dependent on anything, even a mech that had a link with him, was not something he had any desire for.
He also had no idea how to answer her admission. He saw the moment that she realized this, an odd…flush spreading across her cheeks, but he couldn’t think of anything to say to make it better. Peter internally cursed his lack of people-skills and wondered how many ways he could kick his own ass.
“We…we need somewhere to stay!” she finally called out, regrouping remarkably well in the face of Peter’s own inability. “Maybe we can find the Spider-Man of this reality. I bet they’ll be able to help us! They might even know how we got here.”
“Knowing the Spider luck, he’ll probably be right in the middle of it.”
The gripe got a brief laugh from Peni, and Peter smirked to himself proudly.
“Alright, so we have to find Spider-Man. Do you have any ideas?” Peni asked. “I can connect to another mainframe and try and hack in, but…I kind of stand out.” She paused. “You definitely stand out. I don’t think they’d notice me if I just walked up to somewhere, but you…” She didn’t say anything else, and she didn’t have to. Peter hesitated, standing up and looking out at the city before them, thinking.
“You’re a Parker, right? Peni Parker?”
“Yes,” Peni responded, beaming. “And you’re a Parker, too! A Peter Parker.” She frowned slightly. “Do you think that there’s a Parker here that’s running around as a Spider-Man?”
“I don’t doubt that in the least. Two spider-people pulled out of alternate dimensions and brought to another universe with a Spider, both named Parker? Once I’d call coincidence, but this feels too focused.”
“I think so, too!” She grinned. “Alright! I’ve got something to look for now, this will make things so much easier!” Peni hunkered back into the torso of her robot, which closed before her. “Come on!” she called out, and Peter watched as she leapt to another building, the leap something that made his entire body flinch backward as he followed her movement with his eyes and simultaneously took a better look at his surroundings. It hurt, and he found himself covering his eyes, ducking down.
It took a second before Peni seemed to realize he wasn’t behind her. He felt it when she landed before him, the hatch opening again, and he forced himself to open his eyes. Her wide and worried eyes stared at him, and Peter forced himself to straighten.
“I’m sorry,” he managed softly, “I…it hurts,” he finally admitted. “I don’t know what I’m seeing, and it really…it just hurts my head.”
“All the colors are really freaking you out, huh?” she asked him, but before Peter could ask what she meant, her robot reached out. “Don’t worry! I’ll help you out, just hold still.” Peter found himself grabbed, before being positioned in such a way that he could cling to the back of her robot. He hunkered down against it, holding his hat with one hand, a terrible mixture of shame and disgust welling up within him.
Pathetic.
“I’ll just carry you! We’ll get there soon, just try and get your eyes to adjust, okay? I know you can do it!” She cheered, the face of the robot staring at him with a bright smile blinking across its ‘face’, which was odd. Peter resigned himself to being carried and felt as she adjusted herself to his weight, and then leapt.
For a moment they were in free-fall, and then her robot thwiped its wrist out, webbing shooting out and swinging them up and out. It was a familiar experience, even without the control he usually enjoyed. It also allowed him to get used to the sight of the world zipping by him, the…colors blurring together as they swung.
He had to get used to this. He had to be useful.
Peter forced his eyes to stay open and trusted in Peni to get them where they needed to go in order to gain information. They would figure out what was going on, and then they would figure out how to get home, Peter was certain. This was just another strange pothole in the road he called life. He’d been hitting them so often they were almost expected by this point.
What else could happen?
#burning matches#into the spiderverse#spiderverse#spider-noir#peni parker#peter benjamin parker#spider-man#spiderverse fanfic#i don't care who you are#suddenly having bright colors like that would be insane#like CLEARLY he can see color given the way he reacts to the cube#there's some interesting implications in terms of like#did spider-noir's universe have color before and it doesn't now#what's the deal with that#how can his eyes see color if he's in black and white?#it's neat!#either way#here we go
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@superherokisser sorry if it's not good, it's in it's early stages😅 I haven't even properly re-read it yet to make sure it makes sense bc I'm tired and it's pretty much 12am rn, the chapter is called "cursed birthdays" but I also might change that:) also srry if it's too short I'm just rlly sleep deprived and I'm abt to pass out🥲❤️ gotta copy n paste it into tumblr now. It's 1396 words.
@nico-di-angelo-aaaaa
@camstargone
Here:
A Cursed Birthday
I woke up this morning thinking all was well, and it was just another ordinary day, for me, anyway. But no. I don't even get one birthday of peace. It's always something every year. I mean, last year, a bunch of rats ate the cake. The year before that, my hamster, Charles, the magnificent, committed suicide. And this year, I get sucked into a magical portal. Yay.
It was normal. Nothing happened the entire day, and I was sceptic, to be honest. But no. The one thing that couldn't have happened (due to its... well. Impossibleness) just had to happen. Thanks a lot, God. I swear I'm cursed or something.
It was around 8 pm by the time I finally let my guard down about my evil-birthday curse. I was walking my amazing dog, Ruby. She is this adorable black and white pitbull that puts any and all other dogs to shame. So naturally, I was showing her off... at 8pm, in winter. In my defence, I'm definitely not the smartest person I know. I mean, what lunatic would be out at 8 pm in winter, in the UK? Besides me, of course.
I was walking through the nearby park, like I usually do. But this time, something had caught my eye. The park was empty except for me and Ruby, but there was an object emitting some sort of blinding light. The kind that if you were to look at it for more than a few seconds, then when you would finally look away, you would have little dots dancing around your vision. When I picked it up, which I kind of see was a bad idea, it was like holding fire. I dropped the glowing thing, and Ruby started to bark at it, the burning feeling still prickling my hand. Then, right where the object had dropped, some sort of vortex had started to open, sucking me in. The last thing I remembered after that was falling.
Thankfully, the forest that I fell into had some pretty tall trees that cushioned my fall (not really). I angelicaly landed (crashed) onto the ground.'Ow! Damn it, who put trees here?' I yelled because it really really hurt. My body made this cracking sound, and my leg had bent in a super unnatural way. There was bone and a lot of blood. A lot. I blacked out (I don't know why, though)
When I woke up, I was on a bed in a sort of cabin-like room. There were 2 green sofas against the walls facing each other, with a little coffee table in the middle and a kitchen, in which I was in the middle of on a table, not a bed, which was probably why my back hurt like hell. There were two people in the kitchen, one baking some sort of bread and the other washing some dishes.
'Ow.' I winced as I tried sitting up. Pain shooted to my leg. 'Oh! You're awake.' Both people had turned around and were now looking at me. 'Your leg was pretty badly hurt. How did you manage to do that?' The girl said, looking at me with disapproval. She had long, blonde hair that looked so straight she wouldn't have to brush it for days, and it would still have zero knots in. Her green eyes seemed to dance like a flame. She wore a lovely white dress dotted with purple flowers and all sorts of jewellery. 'What?' I questioned, still not entirely sure of what was happening.
'I found you out in the forest. You were unconscious and badly hurt, so I took you and brought you here. We had to do something about your leg, though. Sorry.' She said, which confused me until I looked down.
'AHH!' I screamed. 'Calm down, it's not that big of a deal.' The man, a strong, muscular dude with dark skin adorned with freckles that looked to be in about his forties. 'Not that big of a deal!? My leg is gone!' I yelled. 'Where did it go? I had my leg this morning.' 'Now you dont.' He replied with a proud looking smile.
'Now I- where is my leg!' I demanded. I mean, who just takes people's legs off without asking? 'I told you we should have asked, dad.' The girl said to the man. 'Exactly! Thank you!' I said. 'You guys can't just take my leg!' I yelled, directing the words at the man. 'I'm Jericho, I prefer Eric though, since you didn't even ask before you chopped my leg off!' I said (cool name, I know). 'I'm Ariel, this is my dad, Sebastian.' She said. 'Well, Ariel, lovely to meet you.' I said, shaking her hand.
'I can make you a new leg, Jericho. No need to be a baby, now, is there?' He said with a grin on his face. Rude. Before I could say an awesome comeback, he started measuring my right leg (which was still there). After a while, he walked away to go make my new leg, letting me talk with Ariel. You could tell she was one of those really pretty girls who didn't try to be pretty.
'Soo... where is this because the last thing I remember is falling out of the sky.' I said, looking at her expectingly. 'This is Emaia. Also, what did you mean "falling out of the sky?"' She questioned, looking confused and tilting her head to the side. 'Well, I was just walking my dog, Ruby, and I kinda just fell, and there was this glow-y thing and- My dog! Ruby!' I yelled, standing up from my position on the sofa, forgetting about my leg and immediately falling to the floor. 'Ow.'
I'd forgotten all about Ruby! Did she fall through with me? Is she safe? A million things were going through my head, and I didn't even notice I was hyperventilating until Ariel's dad, Sebastian, had started to shake me lightly. I had managed to tuck myself into a weird looking ball against the couch because my left leg was, well, not there. After a long, long time of uneven breathing and being told everything would be okay, I finally was able to slow my breathing. 'Sorry.' I said. I mean, I just wasted these nice (ish) people's time. 'It's alright, love,' He said in the same soothing voice he had been using for the past 10ish minutes.'Ariel had been trying to calm you down for a while by the time I came back in here because I found you a leg that would match.
He went and got me the leg, and after him showing me take it on and off, he let me look in a mirror. Well... I looked like I had just fallen out of the sky. My dark hair was more matted than usual with a few leaves sticking out, a few cuts that would easily heal on my head from falling through branches, my new leg which was made out of a amazing-looking black metal and my clothes were covered in blood. While I was checking myself out, Ariel had explained what had happened before Seb had gotten there.
'Yeah, we are probably gonna have to find you some new clothes.' He said, patting me on the shoulder. "For now, you'll just have to borrow some of mine.' He said, Ariel going upstairs and grabbing me a pair of clothes that were 1000% too big. Man, he is bulky. The outfit looked like it came directly out of the 1900s, but still, I looked at amazing as always.
The prosthetic was really weird getting used to, but after three days, I was good enough not to trip every five seconds. I didn't want to wait any longer because I didn't want Ruby to be out there any longer. In my time staying, it wasn't that hard to figure out that I was nowhere near home. These guys didn't even know what Sonic the Hedgehog was!
Me and Ariel left to go look in the forest around where she found me, and Seb had to stay because he runs a bakery! (Who would've thought.) We left at 7, after having the best food I have ever eaten, except for the cake at my aunt Jessie's funeral. That was some good cake.
#*cuts off your leg*#why did you cut off my leg?!?!?!!#ill get you a new one#love my little sillies<3#theyre all on drugs 100%#my silly little fucks#book#first book#1st chapter#im so so so sorry if its horrible#im rlly dyslexic and had to use my gramarly#like stfu gramarly#no that is not a typo#go fuck yourself gramarly#taking the fucking piss#gramarly#meow#jericho williams
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A tumblr version of my fic because I wanna keep all my masterpost posts on this blog.
It’s a strange sense, a feeling he hasn’t felt in… maybe ever. The feeling of completion, of having everything he needed. Sat in the dark on his faded once-blue-now-grey second hand couch, burn marks in the arm left over from some sleepless nights covered up by finger-painted smiles, the scent of pumpkins and cinnamon and candy apples wafting through the air, Roy realised he’d never felt so whole, so content. The familiar weight of the girl in his arms, the occasional nudge against his leg as the boy on the floor tilts his head to get a better look at the TV, the sensations grounding, a reminder that tonight, he’s with the two people who mean the most to him in this world. Lian’s cheeks were smudged with pumpkin juice from digging out the jack-o-lantern’s insides, but Roy didn’t have the energy to attempt to wrangle the toddler long enough to clean it. Grant’s hair was plaited, pumpkin-shaped clips holding it in place. The two kids, his daughter, and his… something. Roy would never name him. Maybe he needed to, maybe saying it would be the worst thing he could do. Maybe fatherhood was too polluted for the boy, maybe the concept of being a ‘son’ was too damaged- the legacy of a dead man, the prey of a monster. Maybe, maybe, maybe, but no absolutes. His daughter’s brother, undoubtedly, Lian’d called him her brother herself, but the implications of what that made Roy were never addressed. That swell of pride whenever Grant got his powers under control, that squeeze in his chest so tight it hurt whenever the boy’d go to him for a hug, it didn’t need to be mentioned. Roy didn’t need to be named, didn’t need a tangible place in Grant’s life. Roy was there, and that was what mattered.
“Roy, pay attention, this is the best bit!” Grant snaps Roy out of his thoughts with an enthusiastic tapping on his knee, pointing to the TV. Some 80s Goonies-esque kids’ comedy horror was on, one of the few Lian-friendly (and Roy-friendly, though he’d never admit that he couldn’t stand horror any more than his three year old daughter) Halloween movies Grant had in his suggestions. Lian was already asleep, her face squished against Roy’s chest. Fortunately, the girl didn’t have much of a sweet tooth, so the forsaken sugar-rush had been avoided. Roy leaned his head back against the headrest, blinking slowly to try and keep his own eyes open.
“Yuh-huh, I’m watching,” Roy yawned, trying his best to fake interest in the… mass exorcism? He’d kinda zoned out after the part with the werewolf in the Police station, and the plot of the film had been lost in the process. Despite having no idea what was happening, Roy still attempted to pretend for Grant’s sake. “Oh, look, they’re finally gonna get, uh Frankenstein.”
Grant turned around with an appalled expression, his eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Frank’s one of the good guys! Have you even been watching?”
Great. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. “This film’s pro-Frankenstein? I thought he was a monster. That seems like a weird stance.”
“Yeah, duh it’s pro-Frankenstein’s monster. He’s never been a bad guy.”
“He hasn’t? He’s a monster, right?”
Grant sighed in exasperation, pulling his legs up to his chest in that ‘I think what you said is stupid and I’m not gonna humour you with a response’ pose Roy’d seen an almost hilarious amount of times since the kid first came to live with him, resting his chin on his knees. Roy sighed in solidarity and leaned back in his seat, swallowed by the unfathomably plush cushions (thanks, Flasher, for donating furniture so padded that Lian could get lost in the cracks.) His fingers drummed against the arm to an unknown rhythm, some song that might have gone ‘dun dun dun dun, dun dun’, but could just as well have gone ‘dun, dun, dun, dun dun dun’, and Grant tapped his foot to the silent symphony. Lian’s quiet snoring played the bass. It was a better song than Great Frog ever made, anyway.
“Roy? Roy. Roy!” Grant smacked his guardian’s arm, waking the archer from a slumber he hadn’t even realised he’d succumbed to. Glazed eyes adjusted to the new darkness now the film was off, spotting the absence of plates or wrappers which had littered the coffee table last time Roy was aware of his surroundings.
“Wh- what time’s it, kid?” Roy yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the hand not cradling Lian. He didn’t wait for Grant to answer before checking his watch, and gawked at the ‘XII’ that stared at him. “Midnight? Jesus, you should’a woken me earlier.”
“I would’ve, but popular media says it’s a bad idea to wake the dead,” Grant grinned at his own joke, flopping down on the couch next to Roy.
“Very funny. D’you clean up in here?”
Grant shrugged. “Yeah, a bit.”
“You know you don’t have to, right? Like, I don’t- it isn’t an expectation or a requirement.”
“I know, but I wanted to.”
That, Roy couldn’t argue with. But there was still that doubt, that fear of intentions, of motivations. He was never entirely sure if Grant was doing something because he wanted to, or because he felt he had to, whether his helpfulness was just him being a good kid or if it was a fear that if he didn’t pull his weight he’d be cast aside. Roy’d felt exactly that when he was Grant’s age, that fear that if he didn’t work hard enough as Speedy, if he didn’t manage to hold his own beside Wally and Donna, he’d be cast aside and forgotten and- well, you already know how that turned out.
Lian wriggled slightly in her slumber, snapping Roy out of his thoughts. With the amounts of tangents his brain’s gone off on the last few months, you’d think he were Dick Grayson. He stood, his back cracking as he rose to his feet (which, since when did back cracking start at 25? He’d need to have a word with whoever designed the human spine. Ha.) and gently lifted Lian with him.
“You should get to bed, kid, it’s late,” Roy whispered so as to not disturb the sleeping toddler, offering a small smile to Grant. Grant just shrugged in response as Roy carried Lian to her room, resting the girl on his hip while he moved the full wardrobe of costume choices she’d gone through before finally settling on a very tiny Agent Smith from the bed onto the floor.
“Night, Etai Yazi,” He smiled, gently settling her in bed and tucking her blankets around her. He positioned her raccoon plush between her arms, and the small girl instinctively squished her cheek against it. With one last check to ensure her comfort, and that she was far enough from the edge to prevent her falling out, Roy switched on the nightlight and closed the door to Lian’s room.
Grant was still sitting on the couch, staring at the black television screen with that face that meant he was getting in his own head about something, just barely visible from the jack o’lantern light. Roy crossed the room at an easy pace so as to not disturb the teenager, sitting down on the other side of the vampire-dressed boy.
“Kid, it’s midnight. You wanna head to bed?”
Grant shook his head. “It’s not midnight yet, there’s still a minute left.”
Roy stared in mild confusion, but didn’t comment. He’d been looking forward to Halloween for weeks, even going so far as to hand-make little pumpkin chains to hang around the walls and some spooky paper arrows (a compromise for bats; Roy’s not decorating his house in Bruce Wayne propaganda) which he’d blu-tacked to the walls. Maybe he wanted to celebrate every second of the holiday. So Roy just leaned back, his hands crossed over his stomach, and watched with Grant as the seconds ticked by.
As the second, minute, and hour hands finally connected at the XII, Grant leaned over the side of the couch, fumbling underneath it for a moment, before pulling out a small box wrapped in red and yellow paper.
“What’s this?” Roy raised an eyebrow, turning the gift over in his hand. It was light, but not weightless- maybe something metal? Or perhaps a hard piece of plastic.
“It’s a birthday present.”
“Since when do you know my birthday?”
“Tempest told Jesse, and she told me.”
“Since when does Garth know my birthday?”
“Roy!” Grant sighed in exasperation, slapping his guardian on the arm.
“Alright, alright,” Roy smiled, carefully unwrapping the paper. The gift was wrapped with precision, so he took his time unwrapping it so he didn’t rip it.
“A box! Just what I always wanted,” He grinned, earning a groan in response.
“Open the box!” Grant whined, and Roy laughed at his impatience.
“Y’know, technically I’m not twenty-six until eleven-”
“Roy!” Grant smacked him again, making Roy laugh harder. Nevertheless, he decided to stop teasing for now, just because the anticipation was so thick it was practically cologne. With only the slightest pause for dramatic effect, Roy lifted the lid of the white cardboard box.
Inside lay a small plastic figure of a bow. No, not just any bow, Roy’s bow, without even the slightest doubt. The red compound was the spitting image of his own, even down to the small white blue stains from forgetting to put it away when he painted the kitchen and the leftover paper from one of Lian’s stickers he’d never managed to entirely remove. Roy stared at the figure in awe, turning it over in his hand and inspecting the details.
“D’you like it?” Grant asked tentatively, and Roy’s heart ached at the look on his face, the hesitation as he waited for the ball to drop, waited for Roy to reprimand him or tell him to put more effort into it.
“Kid- I love it. You made this?” Roy kept his voice soft, glancing between the bow and the boy. Grant’s eyes widened ever so slightly at the unexpected praise, and he nodded slightly.
“Yeah, uh, I mean, I used Nightwing’s 3D printer for, um, actually making it, but- but I made the 3D model and painted it.”
“It’s perfect,” Roy smiled, pulling Grant into a hug. Grant stiffened slightly at first, but relaxed into the embrace after a moment’s pause, resting his chin on Roy’s shoulder.
Maybe the sense’s not so strange. Maybe every other emotion he’d felt the rest of his life was unnatural. Because in that moment, Roy felt a sense of familiarity, like he’d never had a life without Grant in it. Maybe the wordless boy didn’t need to be so wordless after all.
Damn it all to hell. That’s my son.
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Bottom Bitch
read on ao3! (NOT a new work, just new for tumblr)
6959 words, Explicit rating, nb/f butch sub/femme dom, anal, overstim
Oh, Leo is nervous.
He met her at a party. He saw her, by the light reflected off of her sequined dress, across the dark lawn. He almost felt like the music was bouncing off of her. It obscured whatever she was saying, but it didn’t matter, he was too far away to hear anyway, and all he did was stare at the way her lip gloss shifted and melted in the light, looking like he could sink his teeth into it and drink it.
And she found him, while he was trying to escape to the bathroom. She stood close to him, but not too close, and his mind raced with whether she always does that, whether it’s just for him. Her glossy lips were just as mesmerizing up close. His eyes flitted down to them, again and again, and he forced them back to hers. It wasn’t fair. In her heels, she was taller than him.
Her dress flashed rainbow spots of light at him, hypnotic, beautiful. He stared. It melted into her skin, her shoulders glittering, her collarbones glittering, deep, slinky V glittering at the center of her chest.
She smelled so good. Sweet, like caramel and vanilla. Definitely perfume. Her hands were small. Her nails were long and sharp and painted deep, shiny pink.
Her hand slipped down his chest. Dusky, gleaming pink against the soft nude of his shirt. She didn’t pull him closer, didn't push him towards the wall. She just rested it there.
He knew he was supposed to take the lead then. But he didn’t know how. Even right up against him, she seemed far away, like a dream.
Slowly, carefully, he set his hand on her waist. She cocked her head, smiled at him expectantly. She was so small. Shorter than him if it weren’t for the heels.
Kiss her, his brain supplied helpfully. That’s what we’re supposed to do in this situation, I think.
He didn’t know. He wanted it. He felt like she might melt away in his arms if he touched her. He feet like he might melt away. Still, he leaned in. He breathed in her scent again, sweet sugar. His eyes fluttered shut….
At that moment, the door to the single bathroom stall slammed open, and he jumped, blinking in surprise. His hand dropped away. The moment was over. And he really did have to pee.
Mumbling apologetically, he ducked away, closing the door behind him. When he came out, she was gone.
He couldn’t forget her, though, couldn't get the smell of sweet vanilla out of his nose.
There’s nowhere for him to hide now. Not with just the two of them and sparse furniture and no distractions. He wants to feel that delicious, simmering tension, but all he feels is nerves. He fiddles with his hands nervously, and then shoves them behind his back instead because he’s trying to work on having more open body language. There’s a reason he doesn’t do it naturally. It immediately makes his nerves worse. He looks at the ground, blushes, forces his eyes up.
Gia looks at him like she’s trying not to laugh. It makes him blush harder. There’s something else, though, in her eyes, like maybe glee. Glee at his shyness, at the fact that he’s managed to embarrass himself before they’ve even done anything, at the little bit of fear she sees in him.
Finally, taking mercy on him, she breaks the silence. “You still want this, puppy?”
“Yes,” Leo squeaks. He blushes deeper still. His face feels uncomfortably hot. “Tell me —- um, where do I, um…go?”
She raises a slender, sculpted eyebrow at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean like, where do you want me to —- sit? Or…lie down? Or whatever?” Oh god, Leo is burning up. He can’t even look at her. He looks down at the floor again.
“Well. On your knees would be a good starting point.”
“Oh,” he breathes, and rushes to obey. “Yes.”
“Jesus,” Gia says. “That was quick. Take off my pants.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Leo says, all thoughts pushed out of his brain by her command. He shuffles forwards, undoes the hidden clasp of her pants. Fuck, she didn’t tell him to call her that. He’s too eager. She thinks he’s weird, she already thinks he’s weird. He undoes her zipper. It comes easily. Her pants are white and pleated and delicate. He tugs them off her hips and she’s wearing black underneath, simple briefs with a bold white elastic waistband.
She fluffs his hair with her hand. Her nails scratch over his scalp. He stops breathing, and then his breath comes faster, shallower.
“I brought you toys, puppy,” she says.
“Oh, god,” he breathes, surprised, heat pooling in his stomach. “I wanna —- can I see?”
“One at a time,” she says. “You’re gonna like them. You wanna get fucked like a good little boy slut, don’t you.”
His eyes go wide. He nods, looking up at her, dumb excitement already on his face. “Please.”
She laughs at his expression. “Yes, you do,” she says. “Get on the bed. Take your pants off.”
He immediately flops onto his bed, on his stomach. He wants it like that. He wiggles his pants off, soft denim catching on his heels, and he takes off his underwear too, and his packer in its pouch. He feels so naked. He thinks he can feel the weight of Gia staring at him, but he could just be nervous. It’s a weird, cloudy kind of fear, buried in and mixing with his arousal. He squirms under all of it.
He jumps when he feels Gia’s hand on his butt. She giggles, cute and femme and so in charge. He feels the tip of her acrylic dig into his skin as she spreads him open, rubs one soft finger over his cunt. He’s wet already, from her teasing, from the promise of toys, but not wet enough. He tells her that.
“If you want — if you want me to take it inside I need lube or something.”
She considers, teases her finger over his cunt more, feels his swollen clit, the pink folds of his labia. He’s turned on, more so every second. He knows she can see it.
“Do you have some?” she asks.
Of course he does. She tells him to go get it, and he does, self-conscious of his bare legs under his t-shirt. She takes it from him and he lays straight back down on his stomach. He wants her to do whatever she wants.
He hears the soft squelch as she flips open the cap and squeezes some out onto her fingers, and then a wet noise as she rubs it to warm it up. And then her hand is back on his butt, her fingers a little cold and very wet, and she spreads him open, right at his core, and he moans slightly and wiggles. And then she puts two fingers inside him. All at once. He lets out a yelp that turns into a moan halfway through. Her fingers are cold. The acrylics don’t hurt. He can’t even feel them. He just feels the cool, artificial wet, stretching him open, filling him up. So much, so good. God, he loves being fucked.
“Oh,” she says, voice a laughing, teasing lilt. “You really like that, don’t you. Being filled right up like that.”
“I do,” he moans. It’s fucking embarrassing, how much he likes it.
She fucks him a few times, quick and deep. He gasps and writhes at it. Oh, it’s so good. He wants more. And then she takes them out, just as fast. He goes soft into the blankets, unclenches his fists. Gia traces over his pussy lips, spreads the wet that leaks out of him.
“That’s a good boy,” she says. “You want your toy?”
Leo nods frantically into the cushion. “Yes.”
“Stay there,” Gia says. “I’m gonna show it to you first.”
“Okay,” Leo says, muffled. He’s not worried about sounding stupid, even though he should be. He props himself up on his elbows, watches Gia cross over to her bag, bend down to dig through it. She’s amazingly graceful. She knows she’s being watched, and she celebrates it, standing with her soft perfect hip cocked. The muscles in the backs of her legs are on full display, sharp and perfect and leading his eyes down to the tops of her high heels.
God, she’s pretty. He’s so distracted, he’s not even wondering what the toy could be, until she pulls it out, and at first, he can’t tell exactly what it is. It’s pale purple, and in a sort of U shape, and there’s one part that’s definitely a cock, nice and thick and straight and not too big. He’s not sure what the other part is for, a strange curving bulge. He doesn’t worry about it. He squirms in excitement and anticipation. Oh, he wants that in him.
She turns and sees his expression. (God, the way it looks in her hand.) Her beautiful hypnotic lips part in a smile. She dangles it from her hand by the curved part, wiggles it back and forth. He almost whimpers. It could be ridiculous but god it’s not, it’s brain-meltingly hot.
“You want this, baby?”
“Yes,” he whines. He doesn’t even know what it is and he wants it. She’s smiling at him, pleased, cocky. She walks over to where he’s lying propped up on his stomach and takes him by the hair and brings the toy to his mouth, and he opens it eagerly. She rubs it gently over his tongue. It’s cool, smooth silicone. The part that she’s putting in his mouth is a thick, round bulb that’s attached to the end of the shaft at an angle. He laves his tongue over it, and his spit streaks on the surface. This is making him so, so horny already, his mind going dumb and ready to be used.
She lets him go, carefully so he doesn’t fall over. “Turn over,” she says.
He scrambles to flop over onto his back, his arms braced behind him so he can see what she’s doing.
“Come here. Spread your legs.”
He scoots towards the edge of the mattress, his legs dangling off the side, his knees falling open. He’s nervous, but it’s overshadowed by his urgent eagerness and the reassurance that Gia knows what she wants him to do and is telling him. He doesn’t even think to hesitate to follow any order she gives him.
She looks so good standing between his legs, holding the toy that makes him drool, grinning down at him like she wants to eat him. He should be scared, maybe, with a girl he doesn’t know and all his power taken away from him. He’s not. It just makes him hotter, makes him dumber.
She bends down and puts one hand on his thigh to hold him open and rubs the spit-slicked bulb of the toy over his cunt. He gasps and his legs twitch open further. She presses her nails into his thigh to keep him down and his breath hitches at the little spike of pain and then in one thrust she pushes that thick bulb into his cunt.
“Fuck!” he yelps, more in surprise than pain, as it settles right behind his pubic bone, filling him up and pushing against the back of his cunt and against the inside of his bladder. His cunt clenches around the sudden intrusion. She’s holding it by the base of the shaft which is pressed up against his stomach and - oh. It looks like - he - it’s his.
She strokes her hand up the toy, and it moves inside him. He lets out a whine. Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good. It fills him up so well. The sight of her hand on it, her small, delicate fingers wrapped around the silicone, touching him touching inside him oh god. It’s so hot. So hot.
She pushes her thumb into the tip, and it presses against his clit, and he throws his head back and moans helplessly. He can still feel her, even when he can’t see her, moving it against him, jerking him off. He thought he wanted to be fucked but he could come like this. He gasps and whines as she works her hand, making it move inside him, so helpless under her.
Gia has other plans, though. She takes her hand off the toy and it settles stiff against his stomach. He pants, looking at it, trying to settle down. The purple head lolls against his stomach, the bulb on the end still pressing into him, shifting with every movement.
Gia carefully stands up off of him and leaves him. He can hear her rustling around behind him again. When she comes back she has a little round glass object that he can immediately tell is a butt plug. He shivers, interested and nervous in equal measure. He’s never tried that before.
She shows it to him, rests it on his stomach next to the tip of his cock. It’s small but not that small. His muscles clench just looking at it. It’s heavy and cold. The base is round and flared, and the whole thing is smooth, shiny glass. It’s maybe as big as two fingers at the widest part.
“Have you worn a plug before?” she asks him. He blushes hard and tells her no.
“Do you wanna try?”
He does. She has him sit back on the cushion, adds lube to the tip of the plug, rubs it against the stretched skin of his cunt, over the outside of his hole for just a second. He gasps and flinches at the cold of it. She rubs it in until it warms up a little bit and then presses the round tip of it against his hole, gently dipping the tip inside. He lets out a hard breath at the feeling of the cold glass pushing against his tight muscles, pushing inside, slow and slick but still intense and almost painful.
She presses it into him harder now, and he clamps down around it anxiously, and all of a sudden it hurts much more. He doesn’t know how much is inside, but it feels big.
She eases up and lets it slip out, and it feels like nothing, and he already feels sore. His muscles feel raw and strained. He hears the click of the bottle as she adds more lube. She rubs it into his hole, and he tenses nervously, and she tips the plug and starts pressing it into him again, slow and firm. He winces.
“Does it hurt?” she asks. She doesn’t stop pushing it into him. He feels himself take more, more than he did before, his hole opening up around it.
“‘S a little weird,” he says.
“Okay,” she says, “relax your muscles and then push against it.” That sounds like an oxymoron to Leo, but he tries to do it. She pushes back against him, and he feels it slip in further, not entirely comfortable, the glass hard and unyielding inside him. God, the way it’s stretching him open is so strange. It doesn’t feel like anything he’s felt before. It feels like his body doesn’t want it to happen, and it’s happening anyway.
“‘S it close?” he asks, feeling it in his guts, stretch and fullness like he’s never felt before. His voice is strained. It hurts a little.
“Yeah, almost there,” she says, holding the base against him, making him take more. Please, please let this be the biggest part. He squirms a little, trying to take more, trying to get away. It’s not going anywhere.
She puts her hand on his thigh and holds him down and gives one final, inescapable push, and he moans in pain as the breadth of it fills him up, and then it settles in place inside him, holding him open. Oh, god. It feels so full. He can feel the plug pushing up against the bulb in his cunt. Every tiny movement shifts everything inside him, and he feels like if he moves wrong he might break open and spill everything out of him.
“There it is,” she murmurs, stroking over the stretched outside of his cunt, “it’s in. Good puppy.” She presses on the base of the plug, and he yelps. It hurts every time it moves deeper. “It’s gonna get you used to being full down there.”
“Okay,” he breathes. He hopes he gets used to it. Right now it feels like almost too much. He doesn’t move for fear of shifting it.
Gia kneels on the mattress next to him, and from this angle he has to look up at her to see her face. She’s just in panties and a shirt, and as he looks she pulls her shirt over her head and drops it on the ground, and he stares up at the expanse of beautiful tan skin that she reveals. The dimpled plane of her stomach, the shape of her breasts from underneath. God, he wants to drown in her.
It must show on his face, because she smiles at him like an angel and cups his cheek in her hand, turning his face towards her. He blushes deep red at the lidded, molten look in her eyes, but this time, he’s not embarrassed. He just lets the heat wash over him.
She swings her leg over his shoulder and sits down lightly on his chest, still supporting some of her weight on her knees. He inhales sharply and sets his hands on her thighs, urging her closer. He knows what she wants from him, and he wants to give it. Her thighs are so soft around him, and her weight feels so good on top of him, and he feels so good like this, all full and completely used and completely submissive. When she moves up to kneel over his face he settles back against the cushions and half-closes his eyes. And then she’s hovering over him, just lightly but he can smell the metallic bite of her wetness, can feel the heat radiating from her.
Gently, hesitantly, he pulls her down towards him, opens his mouth against the soft heat of her cunt. She tastes sweet and salty and bitter. He licks her open, a little clumsy but firm and soft, and the taste of her spills onto his tongue. She’s so soft, so warm, so wet. He moans at it, and she feels it and sinks into him harder.
He licks at her hole, hungrily, intent on coaxing more wet out of her. He leaves her clit alone for now but his nose brushes against it, again and again when he bobs his head to suck at her folds. She makes little sounds, grunts, quiet moans when he laves his tongue over her opening, teasing sweet slick out of her. So he keeps doing just what he’s doing, waiting for her to direct him to do something different.
She does, when she gets impatient, grabs his short hair and holds him against her clit. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth and licks wet and messy, his tongue teasing over that hard nub over and over. She growls and holds him down harder and ruts against his tongue, so he holds still and lets her use him and then when he feels her legs start to tense around him he closes his mouth around her and sucks, and she grunts and gasps and pulls him off her by the hair before she comes. He blinks up at her, confused. She’s left her slick smeared all over his chin, and she’s dripping, he can see it.
She looks down at him, hot and predatory and as hungry as she’s ever been, and he realizes that she wants more.
She’s holding him down hard against the bed, holding him off her, and her thighs are trembling, the long corded muscles barely holding her up. He wonders that he could possibly have that effect on her. God, the way she looks at him, lidded and exhausted and still hungry like she’s gonna tear him apart and eat him. He feels like a piece of meat in front of her.
“Puppy,” she growls, and just that almost makes him groan out loud. “Puppy, I’m gonna fuck you now, yeah?”
“Yes,” he groans, his body clenching around where he’s stuffed open. She climbs off him and drags her bag over and searches through it, and he squeezes his thighs together in anticipation and feels the hard line of his cock pressing into his clit between them, the bulb rocking inside him. He whimpers.
She drags the strappy harness up her legs, and as she yanks the leather tighter it bites into her thighs and her stomach and his mouth waters. The ring settles against the black background of her underwear, and gleams in the shitty overhead light. She turns to the side to tighten it around her other leg and the way the strap cuts into the bottom of her ass makes her look so big, so powerful. He wants her on top of him so badly.
He wants to see what she’s going to fuck him with. He rolls over to watch her look for it.
“Turn over,” she says when she sees him. He obeys, ending up on his hands and knees because it’s too sensitive to lie on his stomach with the cock pressed up against him like that. He waits as she pulls out a mostly pink, soft dildo with a flared base. And he whimpers when her hand closes around it, because holy fuck it’s big. Not, like, unrealistic, her little hand can still wrap around it easily, but definitely big for him.
“Oh, fuck,” he breathes, “Gia, that’s big.”
“No it’s not,” she says, tucking it into the ring, coming towards him, taking his hair in her fist. She pulls his head back to look up at it, and oh, god, yes it is. It has a wide strip of orange and purple in the middle, and it’s so heavy it sags down in the harness, dipping towards his face. “Look, it fits in my hand. You’ll see, open your mouth.”
Leo half-whimpers again and opens his mouth, and she shoves her cock inside it. Oh, it fills his mouth so full. His lips stretch around it. It’s soft and it’s pressing against his palate and down on his tongue. Just the head is in and it’s filling him all the way up. There’s nowhere else for it to go. Leo is almost going to choke already, and he feels so small, so fucking helpless. She holds his hair and slides it back on his tongue a little and he gags lightly, and thank god she doesn’t force it, just lets him choke around it a little.
“Good puppy,” she husks, holding him down while he chokes. He coughs and drools and struggles to breathe through his nose. When she pulls him off her a thick, sticky strand of spit connects his mouth to her cock. He feels fuzzy.
“Good boy,” she tells him. She rubs his drool down the shaft of it. “Get it wet for me.” The slick makes webs between her fingers. Leo is drooling for it, already has his mouth open. She pushes back in, and Leo’s eyes shut in contentment. It feels so nice to have his mouth full like that.
She pushes straight back into his throat, and it’s sore, and he chokes again. She growls and holds him down. His eyes flutter, the back of his throat forced open, thick ropes of drool already pooling under his tongue. He’s hard and swollen around the bulb inside him. He struggles for breath, and chokes again, harder, and she lets him go. He coughs and drools and it drips down his chin and from the thick head of her cock. She catches some of it in her hand. God, that’s so dirty. Leo watches her smear it over her cock, streaking on the silicone. He feels so fucking filthy, looking at that thick, wet fucking mess he made.
“I’m gonna fuck you with this now,” she tells him, and if he wasn’t already dumb and drooling he would be now. His tummy feels full and hard and hot and he’s brainless, needs nothing but that cock inside him, needs her to make it fit. She sees it on his face and laughs at him, puts her fingers in his mouth, drags the drool from his tongue. He whines.
She takes her fingers out and grabs his jaw and shakes his head back and forth like a toy, and his eyes half-shut and he moans a little. She laughs at him again and slaps him across the cheek, lightly. He makes a pathetic helpless sound of arousal. He feels so dumb right now. She could probably step on him and he would thank her.
She reaches around to tweak the plug in his ass, and he yelps. He had almost forgotten it was there, but moving it makes it feel just as sore and stretched as it did when she put it in. He arches away from it. God, it does make him feel nice and full, though, pushing against the bulb in his cunt, making it better. He kind of likes it.
She tugs on it again, harder. The thick part of it pulls against the rim of his hole. Oh, fuck, he has no idea how she’s going to get that out. It’s so thick and the glass is hard and unyielding, stretching him open forcefully as she pulls back on it.
“Look at that,” she murmurs, easing it further out, the thickest, roundest part pressing against his hole. She brushes her thumb over his pink stretched skin and he whimpers. It’s so sensitive. He imagines what he must look like right now, both his holes stuffed and cock hard against his tummy, that glass plug spreading him so open and showing Gia everything. Drooling and whining for it on his hands and knees.
She twists it, and tugs it insistently further, and oh he feels it like his muscles are going to tear, sharp shooting pain radiating outwards. He makes a sound that’s halfway between dumb arousal and real fear, and embarrassingly loud.
She laughs at him. “That sensitive?” she asks, and rubs her thumb over the raised outside of his hole where it’s stretched around the plug. He whimpers again, helplessly. “This is gonna feel so good for you, puppy.” She tugs gently and can’t get it any further out, his poor hole tight and tense around it. “Relax. Let it out.”
He does, and she gently wiggles it inside him and softly tugs and slowly, finally, it stretches him open until he just can’t take it anymore and then the biggest part is out and the rest slips out easy, dropping into her hand. Oh, it feels so weird to be empty now. He feels raw and sore and open. He can feel the wet slickness of lube inside him. It makes him feel like a sex doll. It makes him want to be full again. He wants it so bad, knows it would feel so fucking good…
“There we go,” she purrs, the plug set aside and her hands on his ass, gripping into the muscle. “Goood boy.” He feels the cushion dip behind him under her weight, and when he turns she has her knee propped up on it. Her hand comes to his waist. It’s heavy and grounding and nice. She strokes his side, and guides him back a little and he feels the blunt head of her silicone cock rub against his ass.
“Oh,” he says, belatedly. “Oh - no - I can’t-” It’s hard to think clearly enough to say it. “I can’t do that, it’s too big.” Fuck. He sounds like a porn actor. She’s not gonna listen to him. He almost isn’t listening to himself, a big, blurry part of him wanting to give up protesting and just take it. The other part of him knows how much it’s going to hurt, though, how fucking stupid it is to let her fuck him with that when he can barely take a little plug. His breathing picks up, catching in the top of his chest, making him dizzy.
“Yes you can, puppy,” she says, pressing herself against his back. Oh, fuck. The thick length of her rubs against him, and it short-circuits his brain, shuts down the part that’s scared. God, he fucking wants that inside him. He can’t stop himself from moaning pathetically into his hand.
“Yes, baby,” she groans, rutting her hips against him a little, mindlessly. “That’s it. Gonna feel so good.” He’s gonna let her. He knows it. He’s too stupid to fight it.
She gropes around for the bottle of lube and finds it, and clicks it open and drizzles some haphazardly onto him. He whines and twitches at the cold. God, he’s pathetic, he knows it, so stupidly reactive, such a fucking slut he’s gonna let Gia hurt him just to get her cock inside him. Even worse because he gets wetter at the thought. She uses the head of her cock to rub the lube into his hole and he cries out at just that, just the feeling of her close to being inside him.
“Please,” he chokes. Please don’t, he means. Please fuck me is how it comes out. Gia growl-laughs at him.
“Yes,” she says. “Yes.”
She takes the shaft of her cock in her hand and presses the head into his hole. He feels the cold, blunt roundness against him, pushed harder, the very tip forcing him open just a little and holy shit, he is never going to be able to take it it’s so big. He moans. She pushes harder, and it slips out, and she forces it right back into him, opening him up a tiny bit more and it hurts it hurts it hurts. Oh god, it feels incredible. He’s never felt like this before. It hurts and it feels impossibly big and the stretch is like being forced past his limits and he needs it. His mouth falls open and hangs there.
She uses her thumb to hold it in this time and rocks her hips forward, and his body refuses to open up any more. Instead he’s forced forward over his wrists and almost falls onto his tummy. Gia catches him by the waist and holds him up and tells him to stay still, and then she rocks her hips forward slowly, forcefully, holding him against her and guiding herself inside him. It slips in another centimeter. Every time she moves inside him he feels like he’s gonna burst, like he can’t possibly take any more than this. He doesn’t even think the whole head is in. It’s still getting wider. Fuck, he’s scared again. And so turned on his guts ache.
“You’re doing good,” she tells him. “This is right for you, you’re gonna see. I’m gonna make it fit.”
“Okay,” he squeaks, trusting that she knows what she’s doing because it seems impossible that this is ever going to be anything but pain. He doesn’t think he can take it that thick, he really doesn’t. It’s so far beyond anything he’s ever done. It hurts so much he almost sees stars.
Suddenly she grips into his waist and pushes in hard, and he feels the rest of the head slip in and settle inside him. He clenches his hands into the sheets and yells, a loud, painful “Ah!” that he bites back as soon as he can control himself. It feels so big that he’s pushed out of his own body. The sensation is strange and hot and pulsing, and it takes him over. He can’t think, can’t feel anything but the impossible stretch inside him. Ripples of pain radiate through his whole core. And he knows there’s still more.
“Hah,” she grunts, “fuck, there it is, puppy, feel so good.” Her hands are dug so deep into him. He can feel her bent over his back, the heat of her body against his. He cries out again. The hurt comes in big, pulsing waves.
She rocks her hips further. He yelps in pain. She’s holding back a little, pretending to care about his noises, but he knows all she wants is to be inside him, and she barely gives him any break before she tries again, pushing him forward and down until he falls onto his stomach trying to get away from her. As soon as his front hits the cushions he feels a startling, overwhelming shift inside him, the bulb of his cock jiggled by the impact. It presses straight up against where she’s inside his guts. Holy shit, holy shit holy shit holy shit. He moans, high and lyrical.
“Oh, my god,” he breathes, “holy fuck feels good.”
“Aw,” she says, already holding him down, heavy on top of him, pinning him between her body and the cushion. “Are you all full, puppy?”
“Yes,” he gasps. “Oh my god yes. It’s all—” He cuts himself off as she pushes forward, slowly, forcing a little more inside. The head is already in and it’s smooth and it goes easy. “Hooooly shit Gia please hurts. ‘S full, so fucking full.” He can’t even string together a sentence to ask her to stop.
“Good boy,” she says. “That’s a goood, good boy. You’re gonna take all of it for me, aren’t you? Gonna feel so good.”
He can’t tell her no. He can’t say anything. All he can do is gasp and moan and try not to cry as she slowly, slowly forces herself further inside him, until his stomach hurts with it. He can’t move, he’s so full. The different sensations of the cock in his ass and the bulb in his cunt and the shaft on his clit have blended together into an indistinguishable mass of pain, stretch, burn, pressure, pleasure.
Finally, finally, she settles all the way inside him, the front of her thighs settled flush against his body. He’s breathing quick and strained from the pain.
“There you go,” she murmurs, distractedly, her hands busy smoothing over his ass, playing with him. She cups him with her palm and her thumb and spreads him open a little, and he feels that stretch behind everything else, an ache in his muscles. He moans, wavering, unguarded, overwhelmed, into the cushion.
Slowly at first, carefully, she rocks back, drawing out of him. Oh, god, this is just as hard as the plug was. He tries to relax and let it out. Thank god she’s careful, and gives him another glob of lube, rubbed into his rim right where he’s stretched around her cock. He fucking whines at that too, because god he’s sensitive there, his hole stretched and wet and pink. His leg twitches up at the cold of it.
She draws out until the ridge of the head is just tugging at his hole, and then pushes back in, filling him straight back up with what feels like bruising force. He feels it press against his cunt from the outside as it goes in. It’s viscerally creepy, like he could just tear right open, and dirty, and stupidly hot. She growls softly as she fills him. He knows what he must look like, face buried in the cushion, his little waist and his broad shoulders and his little pink hole opening up obscenely around her, his cunt drooling around his cock. It just makes him wetter.
She pulls out and thrusts in again, her cock almost slipping out and then fucking all the way deep inside him. He moans, twists his fingers into the fabric.
“Oh, good,” she tells him. “You’re such a little slut for it. I knew you’d like this.”
He can only respond with another high moan as she thrusts again, picking up the pace a little, starting to fuck him slow and steady. It does feel good, now that he’s settling into it, the deep rocking thrusts that move everything inside him against his g-spot. He already knows he can’t come from this but this feels fucking better than coming, better than anything he’s done alone.
She pulls out and fucks him again and he groans, legs going lax. The force of her fucking rocks his body on the cushion and he flops like a ragdoll, blissfully, dumbly overwhelmed with sensation. He can feel her hips against his ass with every thrust, filling him up, up to his guts, so fucking deep and stretched and open that he can’t do anything but lie there and take it.
“Ohhh, ohh, ohh,” Gia moans, lost in the feeling of him, rubbing herself hard against the base of her cock. He whines and clenches around her. “You wanna come? Wanna come for me, baby?”
“Fuuck,” Leo chokes out, “yes, yes I do, please.”
“I’m gonna-” she cuts herself off with a gritted groan “-gonna turn on the vibration, go on and fuck your little cock against the mattress for me, puppy.”
“Okay,” Leo whimpers. “Okay, I-” she reaches around his body and flicks a hidden button and the bulb whirrs to life inside him, and he cuts himself off with a muffled scream. He can’t even muster the energy to move himself, so he just clings desperately to the sheets and pants, the vibrations inside him and on his clit filling him up filling him up radiating out and higher and higher until he comes hard with another shuddered scream. His body clenches down in waves, around the cock in his ass and the bulb stuffing his cunt, and still the vibrations press against his clit and he comes again, his fingers twisting in the sheets, his eyes actually rolling towards the back of his head. He trembles as he comes down from it, every muscle in his body suddenly feeling like rubber.
“Fuck,” he gasps, when he can breathe again, He doesn’t think he can move. His face is pressed into the cushion, and his mouth is open, and it’s wet. He’s drooling.
His cunt hurts. His clit is somewhere between numb and pain. His tummy is sore from tightening so hard.
When Gia moves inside him, he almost shrieks, all the pain and the little bit of pleasure too much. She pulls out a little and then pushes back in, and Leo whines and writhes. The vibrator is still on, and it feels like torture. He gasps out that it hurts.
“Boys hurt when they cum,” she tells him, and keeps fucking him. “I’m not done so you’re gonna take it until I am, huh? You wanna be a good boy?” He can hear the strained pleasure in her voice. She’s almost all the way on top of him, holding him down with her weight so he can only struggle a little against the mattress. She’s so, so deep inside, so deep it’s hurting his stomach.
“I - fuck - I - it does, it does, it hurts, please make it - make it -” There’s no fucking end to that sentence, his mind is mush, useless. His cunt clamps down pathetically around the bulb. He has no control over his muscles anymore, his cunt twitching and clenching with endless aftershocks, his hole hurt and violated and full.
“That’s it.” She sounds absent, focused, lost in the feeling of fucking him. “You’re a good fucking boyslut. Wanna be a fucking cumdump for me?”
“Hh— ah,” is the only response he can make to that. Fuck, it hurts so much. It feels so good. He can’t think. If he could, he would think that he’s meant to be hurt. That this is what he’s made for.
Gia winds her fingers into his hair and holds on the same way his hands are twisted in the sheets. He cries out again for her. She’s gonna come, he can tell by the way she holds him against her so desperately, legs tensing on top of his. “Fuck,” she groans, “fuck, fuck, gonna come in your little fucking cumdump hole, come on, scream for me.” And he does, gasping at the ache as she forces herself deep and holds him there, until he feels her tremble against him, her hips bucking impossibly deeper as she comes.
After, she collapses over his back, her whole weight pressing inside him and her chest against his shoulder blades. She doesn’t bother to turn off his vibe or pull out of him. His body clenches down uselessly around her, and she can’t even feel it. He has to beg her to get up off of him and let it be over. When she finally slips out of him, flicking the vibrator off soon after, he can feel his hole wink weakly open, aching, emptiness feeling strange now. His clit throbs sharply.
He rolls onto his back, and watches her unbuckle her harness and throw it to the side. She comes to sit by him on the bed, and rubs the sharp points of her nails through the short hair on the back of his neck.
He thinks of telling her how bad that hurt. Something in him wants to. Make sure that never happens again. Another part of him doesn’t want her to go any softer next time. He stays quiet and lets her scratch behind his ears, like a puppy.
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Quiet Corners of the Galaxy, Chapter 10
While on a routine mission for Cid, the Bad Batch encounter a woman fleeing from the Empire. Crosshair suspects her seemingly free-spirited, nomadic existence is actually a cover for something else, but struggles to keep his attraction toward her in check as their personalities and ideals clash.
Relevant tags/content warnings: Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Periodic Smut, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use
Chapters posted 1-2x weekly!
Read the full fic so far on AO3
Read previous chapters on Tumblr: Ch. 1 l Ch. 2 l Ch. 3 l Ch. 4 l Ch. 5 l Ch. 6 l Ch. 7 l Ch. 8 l Ch. 9
Chapter 10 summary: Dara and Crosshair go undercover and look for new and exciting ways to annoy each other.
“I really don’t think it’s necessary for him to come. His tattoo might be less noticeable than yours, but he still stands out too much.” It was perhaps the dozenth time Dara had tried to convince Hunter to let her leave Crosshair behind, and still he wasn’t budging. The trip through hyperspace had been long, and they’d landed in a quiet meadow on Caameris late in the night cycle, opting to wait until the morning to begin their surveillance. This was Dara’s last chance to object, as she waited at the bottom of the ramp into the Marauder while Crosshair finished changing into his civilian clothes. The ground was damp, and the air was heavy with moisture, but the temperature was pleasant and the threat of rain seemed far off. Hunter only smirked a little, unmoved.
When Crosshair emerged from the ship, she eyed him critically and shook her head. “No rifle.”
The sniper scowled. “I’m not going anywhere unarmed.”
“This is a nice, peaceful, mid-rim planet, not outlaw country. It sticks out too much. Concealed weapons only. I have an extra blaster for you here.” She gestured to the basket she was carrying, where a carefully folded blanket disguised the hidden pistols.
Hunter looked from one to the other, not bothering to conceal his shit-eating grin. He felt a little bad sticking Dara with Crosshair for the day, but not so guilty that he wouldn’t take the opportunity to punish his brother for his earlier comments. With an exaggerated grumble, Crosshair removed his Firepuncher from his back and handed it to him. “Have fun, you two,” the Sergeant chuckled as they set off.
They kept their distance from one another and walked silently. Tech had set down the Marauder beyond a forested area that separated the town and the villa, far off the main road, where they hoped it would go unnoticed. It was a tense thirty minutes, in which each refused to acknowledge the other, before they approached its outskirts.
Dara narrowed the gap between them as they began to pass neat little houses and businesses, all roofed with colorful tiles. Locals watched them with open curiosity on the streets. It became busier as they approached the center of the town, entering a bustling, open-air market. “Follow my lead,” she muttered to Crosshair.
“Do I have to?” he sighed miserably.
She pursed her lips briefly before pasting on the easy, charming smile that she seemed to direct toward everyone else besides the sniper and began perusing the stalls attentively. She had purchased small items from several of the shops, filling her basket with fresh fruits and vegetables, before one of the merchants finally acknowledged the stares still being directed at the newcomers in the crowded marketplace.
“We don’t often get new faces around here. What brings you to Caameris?” The woman asked.
Crosshair fought to keep the surprise off his face as Dara intertwined her arm in his, gave his bicep a quick squeeze, and sent an admiring glance his way. “Oh, we only just arrived,” she explained brightly. “We’re here to spend a nice quiet honeymoon. It’s not often that we get to travel, and we just wanted the opportunity to have some quality time together away from it all. We’re nature lovers, and we couldn’t think of anything more romantic than camping together under the stars.”
“Oh, how lovely! I remember my own like it was yesterday. My husband and I have been married for nearly thirty years.” The shopkeeper, while never exactly suspicious, was certainly more open now that she had a ready explanation to satisfy her curiosity about them. In fact, as he watched a few passersby blatantly listening in, Crosshair had the impression that the whole population would be aware of the story behind these new strangers before long, the engines of small-town gossip running quickly and efficiently. He had to begrudgingly admit that Dara was good—a little too good.
“How wonderful,” Dara gushed. “Well, we were hoping to take a hike tomorrow. Is there anything we should be certain to see? We saw that lovely mansion across the lake as we were landing—I don’t suppose you know whether the grounds are open for visitors, do you?”
“Ah, I’m afraid it’s a private residence, and the owner is off world for the next week.” The shopkeeper leaned in companionably. She was already well-invested in passing gossip along to fresh listeners. “The whole estate is quite lavish, in fact. My daughter works in the kitchens.”
“Oh my! It’s quite a large house! I’m sure it keeps your daughter very busy. It seems the ideal place for some very fancy parties…”
Crosshair thought that if this conversation got any more boring he might ruin the mission by shooting himself just to get out of it. The two women, engrossed in their talk, didn’t spare him a glance as he wandered off amid the other stalls, keeping an eye on Dara between squinting warily at the locals, who were still nosily appraising him. He surveyed the market square; while it was largely surrounded by squat, unassuming buildings, one of them—taller, newer, more impressive—stood out. Prium’s satellite lab, he presumed, based on the bored-looking security flanking the doors.
He had nearly completed a full circuit of the market when he noticed that someone else had joined Dara and the shopkeeper. The uniformed Sullustan man was speaking animatedly as he approached. Thinking that perhaps Dara had not fully thought through the implications of her little ruse, Crosshair smirked as he threw a protective arm over her shoulder, feeling her stiffen nearly imperceptibly beneath him.
“Your husband, I presume,” the Sullustan observed magisterially.
“Yes,” Dara said warmly. “Allow me to introduce my husband… Hunter.” Crosshair flared his nostrils, but tried to minimize his scowl—just barely—for the sake of the mission. So, as much as she had chosen to ignore him since the other night, she certainly hadn’t forgotten their earlier altercation. She had just been biding her time to find the best way to torture him. “This fascinating gentleman,” Dara continued, “was just telling me how he is the director of the private research lab of one of the greatest geniuses of our time. You’ve heard of Kumalon Laboratories, haven’t you, sweetie?”
“Dr. Nor Raab. A pleasure,” the scientist greeted him. “Although I must say, if I were on my honeymoon with such a lovely young woman, I think I would look quite a bit…happier.”
Dara laughed, the sound generous and moving, like the tinkle of bells. He didn’t care one bit to hear it directed it toward Raab, any more than he liked Dara’s wink at the pretentious Sullustan. “Oh, don’t mind him. He’s just upset that I wouldn’t let him keep me cooped up in our ship all to himself. Newlyweds, you know.”
“I can’t say I blame him,” Raab replied with a knowing smile.
Crosshair tightened his arm, drawing Dara closer, and nuzzled his nose in her hair, not bothering to suppress a wicked grin when she shivered a little. She smelled earthy, like the beginning of rain. “Speaking of which… I think we’re just about done here, don’t you?” he asked.
“Actually, I was just about to ask Dr. Raab if he would be so kind as to elaborate a little more on his work with Dr. Prium,” Dara insisted. “You see, I’m a teacher and I would love to be able to tell my students all about this when I go back. I think it’s so important to inspire future generations of scientists, don’t you?”
“Well, I also must be returning to my duties, but perhaps you could return later this evening and we could all share a drink nearby. It’s so rare we get visitors.” Raab gestured to a bar at a corner of the square.
“Sounds wonderful. We’ll see you then.” With a small wave at Raab and the shopkeeper, the pair left the market, Crosshair still holding Dara close until they reached the outskirts of town, where she unceremoniously shoved his arm off of her.
“Tell me,” the sniper drawled as he dogged Dara through the woods in the direction of the Marauder, ��how many classes dedicated to lying did you take while studying linguistics? Is it a big part of the coursework?”
“My appreciation for theater is extracurricular.” Dara bent over suddenly, drawing a knife out from where it was concealed beneath her pant leg. She rolled her eyes when she noticed Crosshair tense up, preparing for a fight. “Please. If I were going to kill you, I’d know better than to do it when your brothers are my only ride off this planet.”
He crossed his arms, watching her as she knelt and used the knife to dig in the dirt. “What are you doing?”
“It’s springtime here. Things are growing.”
He thought about telling her that wasn’t much of an explanation, but his curiosity got the better of him as he observed her activities. Where he could see a few green tufts peeking out through the dark soil, she unearthed a series of tubers the size of his thumb. Straightening, she ran her fingers along the bark of a few nearby trees until she found one where a thick, meaty fungus grew in shelves, cutting it down in slices. Ignoring him completely now, she wandered along the forest path, collecting her bounty.
Minutes passed before Dara realized the sniper had disappeared. She glanced up into the treetops, catching sight of him perched on a tall branch, still watching her idly, and shook her head in annoyance. But Crosshair could see the corners of her mouth twitching as she returned to her work.
Tag List: @stardusthuntress @skellymom @megmegalodondon
#the bad batch#bad batch#star wars#clone force 99#tbb crosshair#clone wars fanfiction#tbb hunter#sw tbb fanfiction#tbb fanfiction#the bad batch fanfiction
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Daisy's Hangster RecList
So I've had Tumblr since 2012 and I have never, ever made a post and I haven't reblogged anything in 10 years. However, I have read a shit ton of Hangster fics in the past 6 months and actually made a point to save and rate the ones I liked, so I thought I'd finally contribute something.
Generally I like fics that are bittersweet, sexy, a little angsty, and in-character. And I usually shy away from AUs. There's a lot of pure smut in here too. If any of that is your taste too, you should have a good time.
we're fools to make war
Author: whimsicule
Rating: E
Summary: In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. or: it's a hundred degrees in texas.
Daisy's Note: I have read a lot of Hangster fics but this one is my favorite. I love Bradley and Jake's post-mission characterizations. The sex is so hot. The OCs add to the story instead of being annoying or distracting. It's a perfect fic. One of my all time favorites of any fandom.
an afterimage of you on the back of my eyelids
Author: iceboxotterpops
Rating: E
Summary: Rooster’s nightmares leave him deprived and seeking comfort, which he finds in the most unsuspecting place—Hangman. However, the further their Friends With Benefits situation develops, the more Rooster begins to fear his feelings for Hangman while the nightmares grow stronger and worse.
Daisy's Note: Again, beautiful characterization and hot sex. I love anything where Rooster is healing. Technically not done but I think it ends in a good place.
tell the truth, I look better under you
Author: lesbiseresin
Rating: G
Summary: Before Bradley knows it, there’s a hand landing on his shoulder and squeezing as Hangman slips past him towards the door.
“Hope you don’t snore. Otherwise I might have to shove your face into a pillow,” he tells him, completely cheerful. It makes Bradley want to reach for his collar again, face no longer numb but burning hot in a way he hopes doesn’t show through in color.
Instead, he tightens his jaw and does what he’s been doing for the past few days every time Hangman tries to push one of his buttons. He ignores him.
(alternatively: and they were bunkmates…)
Daisy's Note: A very naturalistic story of these two dodos falling in love. All of lesbiseresin's stuff is top notch.
all our yesterdays
Author: Notchka88
Rating: E
Summary: Jake gets another chance at the mission, and then another, and another. At a certain point they stop feeling like chances and more like foregone conclusions.
Daisy's Note: Superbly executed time loop fic with spot-on characterizations and their past friends-with-benefits situation as the backdrop.
Men Like Us
Author: DancingDisaster
Rating: M
Summary: Seresin men love with reckless abandon. It’s put every man before him in the ground.
Jake refuses to be buried.
He flies like he has nothing left to lose (he doesn’t), a one man army (he is), leaving everyone else in the dust (so they don’t leave him). Admiral Kazansky claps him on the shoulder, says he expects great things from him, and Jake’s smile is feral as the rest of his flight school cohort looks on in disbelief.
Hangman, they all say, like Jake’s entire personality was a long con, and he ranks first in class.
Rooster doesn’t look at all.
(They've got history spanning the better part of a decade and they are absolutely, positively not over it.)
Daisy's Note: There's a reason this one's a classic. Couldn't put it down.
hand in unlovable hand
Author: 228am
Rating: E
Summary: Rooster scoffs, “you’re a lot of things, Seresin, but you’re not stupid.” He crosses both arms over his chest. After a moment, he speaks again, “we’re soul—”
Jake interrupts icily, “don’t fucking say it.”
or, Jake and Bradley are soul bonded and Jake is handling it super normally.
Daisy's Note: I normally find soulmate AU's kinda hokey but I'm a SUCKER for a telepathic connection trope. Also I just went to a Mountain Goats show so I like the title.
time and time again
Author: andthentheybow
Rating: M
Summary: Rooster wakes up on the third April 22nd in a row covered in phantom explosion burns and with the concrete knowledge that this mission is going to go terribly, horribly wrong.
Daisy's Note: Another fantastic time loop fic with very clever, funny writing.
Bi_e_ual
Author: tempestbreak
Rating: E
Summary: Teeth clenched, Rooster leans his forearm across Hangman’s chest, looming, eyes searching eyes. “What’s your game?”
If Hangman is intimidated, he gives no indication. In fact, he seems to grasp what Rooster is asking immediately; that stupid smirk curls the sides of his lips as he raises his chin in challenge. “This isn’t a game, Rooster. It’s just life.” The smirk widens. “Well, life and death.”
---
Or: Rooster is sure he’s straight. So why does Hangman always look so good
Daisy's Note: Poor Bradley is so confused. Emotionally constipated Bradley trying to sort through his feelings always gets me. Especially when contrasted with a cocky Jake.
love is a burning thing
Author: Notchka88
Rating: E
Summary: Bradley finds himself standing in front of Jake, much closer than just friends would. It’s not even the beer lowering his inhibitions. He often finds himself drawn in by Jake, unable to resist the pull between them. It would be terrifying except that since the mission and since they became a them, they’ve matched each other’s speed.
Jake’s eyes briefly dart to his mouth and his hand discreetly squeezes Bradley’s wrist before he turns around and saunters out of the bar.
Bradley takes a moment to admire the view and follows after him.
(Reunited after months apart, Jake and Bradley can't quite contain everything they feel for each other.)
Daisy's Note: Their writing is just. so. HOT.
hold me like a grudge
Author: lesbiseresin
Rating: M
Summary: Whatever truce he and Hangman might’ve temporarily made on the beach still wasn’t enough for Bradley to want to hang out with the guy in his free time.
Except, here he is with the Bronco pulled into one of the spaces that line the stretch of sidewalk beside Hangman’s house. He can see Hangman’s truck sitting in the driveway and the light for the living room turned on inside.
Hangman is here, and so is Bradley. For what exactly, he isn’t sure. He knows he’s searching for something. An answer, maybe. Figuring that out would require thinking, which isn’t what this is supposed to be about, but the uncertainty must show on his face. Hangman opens the door without him even having to knock, eyebrows raised and the obvious question quick to come.
“What are you doing here, Bradshaw?”
(alternatively: in which bradley takes the phrase ‘don’t think, just do’ a little too literally)
Daisy's Note: There's not enough good bottom!Bradley (is writing it like that still something people do? Or was that just a LiveJournal thing? Do yall even know what I'm talking about?)
Holding Pattern
Author: elwenyere
Rating: E
Summary: The thing about having a dead father everybody liked is that everybody’s got a bigger piece of him than Bradley does.
Daisy's Note: All of elwenyere's stuff is just so gorgeously written. So literary.
all night, i'll riot with you
Author: lesbiseresin
Rating: E
Summary: Bradley would really like to say that Hangman is the one who started it.
It being their return to petty squabbling, starting straight from the moment they first came face-to-face with each other for the first time in years. But to tell the truth, he’s not sure of how true that claim would be.
Punching Out
Author: elwenyere
Rating: M
Summary: Jake’s always been sharp and soft, but not in the right configuration.
Kick the Tires and Light the Fires
Author: elwenyere
Rating: E
Summary: Bradley comes to Jake when he wants it to hurt.
When the Time Comes
Author: elwenyere
Rating: T
Summary: Bradley remembers it the way his fingers remember a chord: by ear, like he’s an echo of someone else’s sound.
i think you should know you're my favorite worst nightmare
Author: davidbyrne
Rating: E
Summary: Whatever is between them is nothing tender or warm. It’s first and foremost a game, and one Jake intends on winning. Every time he looks at Bradley and feels his blood rise, Jake hates it. Just like he knows Bradley hates the way one look from Jake has him looking for the exit.
The two of them have never been able to communicate in any way that matters, but this, they’re on the same page about. The delicate game of attraction and sex. Except neither of them plays it like it’s delicate. They play at it like it’s war.
Bradley’s been on the offensive all night. It’s time for Jake to take back some control.
Daisy's Note: Five alarm fire hot. And despite the description, a little sweet with the spice. : )
A Good Distraction
Author: Emilyandthecat
Rating: E
Summary: Javy is on a mission and Jake’s anxiety gets away from him post-mission.
Daisy's Note: I'm fucking obsessed with this and I read it all the time even though the circumstances are kind of silly--Bradley puts his fingers in Jake's mouth and it makes his anxiety go away.
virgin beefcake bradley gets fingered by confident hunk
Author: elizabethgee
Rating: E
Summary: Bradley has never been with a man. Jake has. Bradley gets much more than he bargained for (but he's not complaining).
Daisy's Note: I'm obsessed with this one too. The ripped-from-a-porno title is just the cherry on top. Again, bottom Bradley is important.
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This is different from my usual (rare) posting here on Tumblr but I wanted to share my thoughts across multiple platforms in regards to Aaron Bushnell and the situation in Gaza. This is the ONLY time I’ll discuss a matter like this on Tumblr, but here goes:
While I personally don’t think self immolation is a very impactful form of protest (in the long term anyway; I feel like once the hype dies down we won’t hear his name again), I DO admire the thought process & the statement that Aaron Bushnell made in choosing to do what he did. I’d much rather he still be alive to add his voice to the many denouncing the genocide in Gaza. That being said, what’s done is done unfortunately, but I think this is a perfect time for world governments to stop and reflect. If one man, armed with an insane amount of bravery, some gasoline, and a lighter can capture the worlds attention in an attempt to make people see reality, I think governments need to stop and realize what they, with their abundance of resources can do in the name of what is right. I don’t read much on any of this anymore cuz it annoys me to no end, but to my knowledge South Africa is still the only nation that has come forward and DIRECTLY called out/formally charged Israel with war crimes & genocide. I hate to break it to everyone but calling for a ceasefire isn’t going to do jackshit. Actions are going to speak louder than words in the grand scheme of this mess. Instead of urging governments to call for ceasefire, we need to urge governments to formally condemn Israel and to be like South Africa and make this a legal matter in world court. You can talk until you’re blue in the face, but talking isn’t stopping/changing anything. You need to act. And as for the officer pointing the gun at Aaron Bushnell and telling him to “get on the ground,” that is normal. Embassies (in any country) are targets for terrorist attacks and once his clothes burned off you might not know at first glance that he was wearing US Army fatigues. They are trained to be alert to anything that may be a threat to the embassy, it’s just their job. At the end of the day though, Aaron did an admirable thing and I just hope that more stock is put into his message rather than the final act he felt he needed to commit to convey that message. Rest in power sir.
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