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munson-blurbs · 7 months

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Escaped Convict!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Reader

Summary: a peaceful morning of reading and coffee is interrupted when you stumble upon convicted murderer and prison escapee Eddie Munson, and your kindness towards him does not go unrewarded.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), unprotected p in v (wrap it up), oral (f! receiving), fingering, corruption kink, 'sir' kink, spitting, biting, mention of blood, mention of assault/murder

WC: 2.6k

A/N: in this fic, "innocent" refers to some sexual inexperience. Eddie and Reader are both in their mid-20s and neither are portrayed as childlike.

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At first, you don’t think anything of the slight rustling noise coming from the trees. It’s been a windy morning, the leaves swaying in the breeze since you’d first sat down at your favorite picnic bench, book in one hand and travel mug full of coffee in the other.

Now, you’re several chapters in, coffee long gone, the air warming as the sun reaches its peak in the sky. It’s almost time for you to head back home and get some lunch, and you begrudgingly tuck a bookmark into your tattered copy of To Kill a Mockingbird.

You hear the noise again; this time, it’s not accompanied with a gust of wind, and it draws your attention to an overgrown shrub in the near distance. Curiosity gets the best of you as you peer over it, but nothing could have prepared you for what you find.

One hand shoots out from behind the bush, yanking your wrist and pulling you down. Your jean-clad knees scrape against the cold ground, grass stains seeping into the fabric. A terrified squeal remains trapped in your throat, but you’ve gone completely silent in horror. Before you can process what’s happening, you feel a palm against your mouth.

“Don’t move,” a voice growls, low and slow against the shell of your ear. You keep your eyes staring straight ahead, unwilling to make contact with your captor. “You work with the cops? Hmm?” When you shake your head, his grip loosens slightly. Maybe it’s also because he can feel you trembling within his grasp, not even contemplating fighting back. “If I let you go, you promise you won’t tell a soul?”

You nod against his hand, taking a gasping breath when he hesitantly breaks contact, still unsure about trusting you. You try to scramble to your feet, but your body betrays you; every bone is gelatinous. Falling back with a pathetic whine, the adrenaline fades and the emotions it had been staving off comes flooding in. Tears fall from your eyes, hot as they slide down your cheeks in heaving sobs. The man swears under his breath, evidently distressed that you’ll give away his hiding spot with your crying.

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologize weakly, wiping at your face haphazardly and trying once again to stand. You’re successful this time, but before you can run away, you get a glimpse of him.

He’s absolutely filthy; a mixture of blood and dirt covers his hands and bare feet. A formerly starch-white undershirt is caked in the same grime, bright orange jumpsuit tied around his waist. His hair is matted in several places, though you can see a semblance of curls amongst the knots. And the expression on his face is not one of anger or violence, but of fear. The same fear that wraps around you like a boa constrictor, squeezing and choking until there’s nothing left to feel.

It’s his eyes, the deep brown windows to his soul, that give away his identity. And though his current get-up is a stark contrast from the ill-fitted suit he’d worn to his televised court appearances, you know who he is.

Eddie Munson: murderer, prisoner, and now, escapee.

Your own eyes widen, and you take a staggering step back. You’d seen on the news that he’d broken out of Indiana State prison three days ago, but you’d never imagined that you would be the one to find him.

“What the fuck are you waiting for?” he snarls, snapping you from your stupor. “Just go!” He scoffs disbelievingly, not understanding why you haven’t taken off bolting back through the forest.

To be honest, you’re also unsure why you remain in place. You’d followed Eddie’s case since the moment it had first broken: a man leaving a bar in the strange hours that are past the night but not quite morning, plans of trekking home derailed by the sound of a woman’s frantic scream. Without thinking, Eddie ran towards it, fingers digging into a man’s throat to pull him off of her. He could have stopped there, the jury argued; he should have stopped there, but he didn’t. His fist connected with the offender’s cheek, delivering one punch after the other until his own fists were battered and bloodied.

Eddie might have been hailed a hero if the perpetrator hadn’t been Jason Carver: All-American basketball player, a senator’s son, and most importantly, a man whose family had access to the best lawyers money could buy. The court overlooked Eddie’s act of courage in favor of the murder he’d committed and sentenced him to twenty years behind bars.

Was he innocent? Technically, no. But he also wasn’t the cold-blooded killer the media portrayed him to be.

You extend your hand, wincing at the way it shakes in front of you. “Let me help you, Eddie.” He flinches at his name, pulling back from you. “I…I can hide you, if you want.”

“Wh…what?” There’s no way he heard you correctly. You, the young woman in the soft sweater and frightened but kind eyes, just willingly offered to harbor a fugitive? “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he says gently, pinning his hopes on you recognizing his authenticity, “you don’t have to do anything for me.”

“I know.” You keep your hand out, biting your lower lip with so much force that you could draw blood. “I want to.”

With a plethora of reservations, he accepts your proposal as you discreetly lead him to your car. You naively expect him to sit next to you, but he opts to lay down in the backseat where nosy drivers are less likely to spot him. He pulls his knees to his chest, hugging them tight to shrink himself even further.

“If we get caught,” he whispers as you turn the key in the ignition, “tell them I made you do this, okay? Promise me.”

“Y-Yes. I promise.”

At your apartment, you point Eddie in the direction of the shower while you start on lunch. There isn’t much to choose from, but you crack open a can of Campbell’s tomato soup and make three grilled cheese sandwiches: two for him, one for you. You pour the soup into two bowls just as you hear the water turn off.

“Um, Sweetheart?” The nickname sets off a flurry of butterflies in your abdomen. “Do you have anything for me to wear?” He steps out of the bathroom, just a towel slung low on his waist. Droplets fall from his hair down his chest, blurring the lines of his tattoos. A dusting of brown hair trails from his navel and disappears below the towel. “I could put my own stuff back on, I guess, if you don’t.”

You will yourself to look away from the living, breathing artwork standing before you. “Y-Yeah, give me a sec.” Your arm grazes his torso as you walk past him towards your room, goosebumps appearing on your skin, and not just from the cooling water. Digging through your drawers, you manage to find a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt that your ex-boyfriend had left behind, never bothering to return to collect it. “Here,” you say; he doesn’t question why you have men’s clothes at the ready, just takes them gratefully and pads back into the bathroom to change.

You’re left breathless again when he walks out again, fully clothed. His biceps strain against the cotton material, filling it out better than your ex ever could. And his lack of underwear is evident, the outline just visible through his sweats.

He’s gorgeous.

Eddie devours the food like it’s a delicacy, rather than canned soup and some Kraft slices on Wonder Bread. Perhaps, after years in prison and an undisclosed amount of days on the run, it is. He brushes the crumbs from his hands into his empty bowl and leans back with a small stretch. “Thank you,” he mumbles with a small smile, leaning over to take your own used utensils. “I’ll wash these. ‘S the least I can do.”

You nod, not wanting to protest and risk making him feel like he’s a burden. “How long can you stay?” you ask softly, nervously picking at your fingernails. “I mean, you’re welcome to stay as long as you need, but I know you probably shouldn’t stick around in one place for long…” You feel silly saying it, like you have any idea of what the protocol is for running away from prison.

“Not long,” Eddie admits, wiping the sponge over a spoon before rinsing it and placing it in the dishrack. “Probably should head back out as soon as it gets dark again. But, really, I can’t thank you enough. The warm shower, the food, the clean clothes…just wish I could repay you somehow.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes flick across your body, soaking in the sight of you. The ache between your legs pulses now, desperate for him to fill the space. You’ve only ever slept with people you’ve been in relationships with; certainly never with escaped convicts who you’d found hiding in the woods.

“What…what did you have in mind?” Your voice is small, barely above a whisper as you stand up and walk towards him.

“Don’t…don’t do this,” he hisses, raking his fingers through his hair. “Please. It’s been fuckin’ forever, I can’t…” He bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. “I haven’t touched someone like I want to touch you in so fucking long, sweet girl.”

“You want to touch me?” You’re shocked at his candor, the way he readily confesses his needs. “W-Where?”

Eddie exhales, gliding his forefinger down your cheek. “Everywhere. I can’t get enough of you. Pretty little bookworm just begging to be corrupted, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you squeak, letting your palm fall to his bicep.

“Need to hear you say it,” Eddie urges, for your sake and his. His breath tickles below your ear. “Say it for me, sweet girl.”

“Corrupt me, Eddie.”

His hands are on you in an instant, pinning you against the countertop. Your lips find each other with the force of magnets, a clashing of teeth and tongues more fervent than you’ve ever experienced. He hoists you on top of it, tugging on your jeans and panties until they’re on the ground.

“‘M gonna taste you. See if you’re as sweet as you look,” he murmurs, crouching so he’s got a perfect view of your glistening folds. Broad arms wrap around your thighs to pull you close and he dives in, nose nudging your clit as his tongue broaches your hole. Your toes instinctively curl, back arching as he feeds off of your pleasure and gradually quickens his pace. One thick finger slides inside you, making you moan. “Goddamn, even your sounds are sweet.” He continues licking and sucking, adding another finger as you get wetter. “‘M sorry, I wanna keep eating you out, but I gotta…” His lips latch onto one nipple, giving it the tiniest bite that draws a whimper from you.

You’re surprised to find that you’re enjoying the pinch of pain, lacing your fingers through his curls and holding his face to your chest. You allow your senses to be overwhelmed, drowning them in the sensation of his mouth on your upper body and his fingers within you.

You rock yourself into him, desperately chasing the release that he’s inching you towards. It allows him even deeper, impossibly so, and you tighten around him.

Eddie lets go of your breast, focusing all of his attention on your pussy. His fingers plunge in and out as he looks deep into your eyes, not daring to break any contact. “Thassit, sweet girl,” he says in a cross between a hiss and a coo, “come f’me.”

And you do, relinquishing whatever semblance of control you’d tried to hold on to. You soak his fingers with a cry of his name. There’s no mistaking the proud grin that sweeps over his face, knowing that he was the one bringing you this pleasure. “You’re ready for my cock now, aren’t you?” He laughs when you nod, helping you off of the countertop. He tugs his pants down, exposing his hard length. He’s big, already leaking pre-cum, and you’re salivating at the anticipation of him stretching you delectably. “Bend over for me, honey. You’re gonna take it from behind today.”

“Yes, sir.” You turn around, bracing your forearms on the Formica while he delivers a harsh slap to your ass.

“Fuck, say that again.”

“Yes, sir. Whatever you want, sir.”

He groans, throwing his head back as he runs his tip along your folds. “Such a good girl, knowing her place. Gonna take whatever I give you, s’fucking good for me.” He pushes inside you, little by little until he bottoms out. “So warm, so wet, holy shit.” Calloused palms grip your hips as he thrusts into you. “Take it, sweet girl. Mmm, jus’ like that.” Each snap of his hips is punctuated with a wanton groan. “I’ve barely fucked you and you’re already cock drunk. No one ever fucked you this good, huh?”

“N-No, never. Only you, Eddie.”

You feel your chin being pulled so your head faces sideways, his thumb ghosting over your kiss-swollen lips. “Open wide, pretty little thing.” You do as he orders, his saliva coating your tongue as he spits into your mouth. “Mine,” he declares possessively, eyes widening as you swallow what he’s given you without even being asked.

He pushes down on your back, your breasts pressed against the counter while he thrusts faster and faster, no longer concerned about holding back. “‘M gonna come on your ass.” He squeezes there, turning himself on further just having your supple skin in his grasp.

And because you know how wild it drives him, you consent with a, “yes, sir.”

Eddie pulls out just in time, his hot spend spilling out of him and onto your flesh. You wish you could see the way he’s adorned you, but you’ll have to settle for the feeling of him dripping down your curves. He stands behind you, panting heavily, holding his softening cock in one hand.

“God fuckin’ damn, sweet girl,” he mutters, reaching over you to grab a paper towel. It’s scratchy as he cleans you up, then takes another and wipes the residual cum from his tip. “You really are perfect.”

You face him and gingerly kiss his lips, probably too intimate for the utter filth you’d just engaged in. Still, he returns it, hands roaming your body with intent but no real destination.

“Mind if we get some rest?” he asks, poorly stifling a yawn. “You, uh, kinda wore me out just now.”

You lead him to your bedroom, both of you climbing under the covers wordlessly, heads barely hitting the pillow before you’re each sound asleep.

When you wake up hours later, you’re alone in the dark. At first, you wonder if it’s all been a dream, but when you click on your bedside lamp, there’s a handwritten note hastily scrawled on some scrap paper:

My sweet girl,

I had to go and didn’t want to wake you. I knew that if I did, you’d convince me to stay longer, and I can’t put you in any more danger than I already have.

I hope that fate will allow us to meet again, maybe if I’m ever truly a free man. ’ll be thinking of you until then.

Yours,

Eddie

P.S. burn this note and flush the ashes after reading

You do as he asked, heart sinking as the flames swallow his words. Maybe he’s written the same ones to dozens of different lovers, or maybe you’re the only recipient. It doesn’t matter anymore. All that fills your memory is the way he felt inside you earlier today.

You will it to live there forever.

#eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #fanfic #eddie x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #smut

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sluttywoozi · 16 days

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The Hair Tie Test

Jihoon didn't mean to classically condition you to get wet every time he puts his hair up, but he can't say he minds the result.

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~2.5k | Pairing: ljh x reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: implied consent, oral reader rec., somnophilia mention, fingering, jihoon is in love w u and ur pussy

Reader notes: uses hair ties, has breasts and a vagina, wap

Jihoon first started keeping a hair tie on him when his hair was still short and the relationship was still new.

He picked up the habit after noticing that you always have at least two, one for you and one for anyone else who might need one. One night about three months in, you gave both away to people you didn’t even know, and then later when you got warm, you had nothing to put your hair up with.

So before Jihoon saw you next, he bought a pack of the brand he knew you liked and tried to get used to the feeling of the elastic around his wrist. It was tight and constricting at first, but soon enough, he grew accustomed to the sensation and stopped perceiving it at all.

The next week when you gave both of them away again, he was prepared. He acted nonchalant as he brandished his wrist, but the joyful gasp and squeal you responded with had him biting back a grin the rest of the night.

Now that he’s let his hair grow so long, he’s started keeping two hair ties on him as well, one for you, and one for him.

There are a few reasons why he might tie his hair up in the day to day: he gets too hot, the wind blows it into his face, he needs it out of the way to work out.

At night, there’s only one: he’s getting ready to eat your pussy till you cry.

You laughed the first time he stopped to pull it back in the middle of his descent, but by now, you know exactly what it means when he reaches for that hair tie.

He’s almost sure he accidentally conditioned you, because every single time he gets between your legs after putting his hair up, you’re wet. Even if you’re fresh out of the shower, or winding down in bed, or tired after a long day of work, you’re ready for him as soon as his hair is tied back.

He wonders if that happens during the day too. When he answers your facetime call after a workout and you see his hair is up, do you get wet? What about when he picks you up from work on a hot day? Or when he took you on that picnic date last weekend and it was particularly windy? Did you want him then too?

Today, he’s decided to find out.

You’re having a relaxed day at home, just lounging on the couch together and catching up on shows, so there’s no ostensible reason for him to tie his hair back.

Which is exactly why he does.

He doesn’t say a word as he starts to gather it up in his hands, brushing the strands back with his fingertips and forming a pony before looping the hair tie around it one, two, three times. He can feel your gaze on him but he keeps his eyes on the TV and returns his hand to the leg you’re resting in his lap, rubbing soft circles around your ankle bone with his thumb.

He sees you shake your head in his periphery as if to clear it, and lets the corner of his mouth turn up in a smirk on the side you can’t see. You’re restless for the next few minutes, checking your phone and wiggling your foot and tapping your fingers on your thigh, and he decides he’ll only make you suffer till the next commercial break before checking the results of his little test.

As soon as an ad starts to air, he’s turning in place and tugging one of your legs to rest behind him, shifting to lay on his stomach between them and tucking his fingers in the waistband of your pajamas. You look at him with wide eyes but raise your hips when he starts to pull them down, bringing your knees up to your chest so he can take them all the way off.

He gently pushes your legs apart, waiting for you to let them fall open the rest of the way, and feels a grin stretch his lips as soon as he sets eyes on the mess of your pussy.

You’re glistening with arousal already, so wet and so fucking pretty, and he’d laugh at the fact that he accidentally Pavlov’d you if he wasn’t already busy sucking open-mouthed kisses up your thigh.

Usually, he’s desperate to get you on his tongue, but on a lazy day like this, he feels like he should take his time, work you up slowly, tip you over the edge gently.

So he doesn’t rush as he licks a fat stripe up the center of your cunt, languidly dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit. He exhales a soft moan at the taste of you, lifting your left leg over his shoulder and wrapping his arm around it to reach your pussy.

His fingers push your lips further apart so he can lap more directly at your clit, rubbing the tip of his tongue up and down before pursing his lips around the bud and sucking lightly.

You let out a delicate sigh, one of your hands coasting down your body to pet his head, your nails scratching at his scalp and making him shiver. His other arm winds around your right leg, his hand resting on your stomach where you intertwine your fingers with his.

Jihoon loves the quiet intimacy of moments like this, loves how you want to make him feel good when he’s doing the same for you, loves that you and him don’t need words anymore, not when you have tender hands and an unbreakable connection.

He loves your pussy too, you’re so warm and soft and fragrant, and getting to put his mouth on you is one of a great many privileges in his life. Getting to make you cum is another, though he’s not in a rush to make that happen.

It will, of course it will, but before that, he wants to savor you, treasure you, cherish you.

Today, he’s about the journey, not the destination.

You don’t seem to mind, thankfully, just laying back and letting him explore you like it’s his first time between your legs rather than his five hundredth. He’s meticulous in his study of you, his gaze traveling up your body to watch your face as his tongue glides through your folds. Your eyelashes flutter when he ever so slightly digs the tip under the hood of your clit, so he does it again before wrapping his lips around it and taking slow, deep pulls.

That makes you gasp, makes your brows pinch together and your pretty eyes grow hazy, makes him want to abandon his plans and go faster, harder, make you cum now. But he can be patient, he will be patient, because he knows that his slow and steady perusal of you will be all the more rewarding when he finally guides you into your release.

But if he keeps sucking your clit, that will happen before he’s ready. He moves down a bit, firming his tongue and pushing it into your entrance, groaning quietly at the heady essence that coats his taste buds.

Jihoon loves to eat, that’s a fact everyone knows, but whenever they ask his favorite meal, he always has to lie. He’ll say steak or salmon or some kind of pasta, but if he could be honest, his answer would be your pussy. Not just pussy, but yours, specifically.

There’s just something about the way you taste that sates his every craving, that has him thinking about it even when he shouldn’t be, that makes him want to enjoy you loudly, messily, voraciously.

That’s how he usually is when he goes down on you, today being an outlier.

It’s a welcome one, though, and perhaps long overdue, because he can tell how much you love it at this pace. You’ve got a dreamy look about you, and your thigh is so relaxed on his shoulder, he can feel it weighing him down. Then there’s your sounds, your sighs and hums and muted gasps telling him he’s doing something very right.

It almost makes him want to put you to bed like this, eat you out so leisurely, you fall asleep with his head between your thighs and cum without even knowing it. He can wake you up the same way, pull you out of your dreams and push you straight into pleasure with just his tongue.

Your pussy is luxury incarnate; beginning and ending the day with your taste in his mouth would be both a privilege and an honor.

But then, this is too. The way you gave yourself over to him without even a word exchanged, let him get you naked and spread you out right here on the couch in the middle of the day. You’re not rushing him as he takes his sweet time relearning every inch of you, and oh, the time is sweet.

Your pussy is sweet too, but not sweet like candy. It’s sweet like falling asleep in a patch of sunlight, like coming home after a long time away, like flowers blooming again once the frost of winter fades.

He could live and die here, with his tongue inside of you and his nose buried in your folds.

He’s sure he could subsist on just your pussy. Food isn’t a requirement when he has something he loves to eat even more, and your arousal wets his throat just like water does, flowing generously enough that he can drink you down and tasting so luscious that he won’t have need for anything else.

You probably wouldn’t be opposed, you love his mouth on you as much as he loves to put it on you. He’s still obsessed with how responsive you are, even after almost two years together.

You don’t hide a thing from him, always let him see and hear the way he makes you feel, unselfish with your noises, your reactions, and your desires.

When your fingers tighten in his hair and you sigh out his name, he knows that means you want more, and he’s inclined to give it to you. Slow and steady wins the race and all that, but his aim is always to give you what you need, and if you need him to go faster, to go harder, he will.

It helps that his hunger is beginning to overtake his patience. He was hoping to work you up softly, methodically, lead you into gentle waves of pleasure rather than the crashing tsunami you’re both used to, but he doesn’t have the fortitude to make you wait when he wants it just as bad as you.

It turns out he can be disciplined in every area of his life except for eating your pussy, and maybe that should feel like a defeat. Instead, it just feels right, like he’s worshiped at your altar and now he gets to revel in your benediction.

He shifts his greedy mouth back up to your swollen clit and starts to suck hard, his sights now set on making you cum all over his face. His bangs fall over his forehead into his eyes, obscuring his view of you, and you push them back for him, staring down at him with parted lips.

You watch as he devours you until you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the falling of your lids telling him you’re starting to get close. You’re making the prettiest sounds, your little moans and whimpers going straight to his cock, which is already achingly hard for you.

This isn’t about him though, so he ignores the throbbing and doubles his efforts, groaning into your clit when your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling slightly at the roots. He’s got a sensitive scalp, not in an ‘ouch’ way but in a ‘moan when you play with his hair’ way, and that’s something you discovered very early on with how tactile and affectionate you are.

You take advantage of this discovery often, but this isn’t one of those times, no, you’re just so close to the edge that you can’t control your hands anymore. The one holding his is squeezing his fingers, and he can’t help but think about how your pussy would do the same if he slid two inside.

Having something filling you up makes your orgasms stronger anyway, so he decides to take back the hand holding your pussy open, giving your thigh a loving knead on his way to your cunt. He primes one finger at your entrance, and when you feel it, you sigh out a long, “Yes,” like it’s something you’ve been waiting for.

You clench down as soon as he slips it inside, your walls fluttering as you grow closer and closer. He’s quick to sink in another, curling the tips up toward your belly and pressing them into your sweet spot. He doesn’t fuck them in and out, just rubs that ridged patch and sucks your clit until your back arches and your moans rise in volume. Your thigh starts to quiver on his shoulder and he knows you’re right there, that it’s only a matter of time before you-

“Jihoon,” you whine as your pussy contracts around his fingers in pulses, wetness seeping out around them as you tremble and buck into his mouth. He uses your combined grasp to hold you down so he can carry you through to the other side, his lips still suctioned around your clit, taking deep pulls to prolong your pleasure. He watches you the whole time, watches the bliss play out through your expressions, the look on your face combined with the feeling of your pussy swallowing around his fingers almost enough to make him cum too.

You melt into the couch when it’s over, your face and your hands relaxing, a sleepy hum escaping you as you pet his head in thanks.

“What was that for?” You ask drowsily, blinking your eyes open just as he pulls his fingers out and slides them into his mouth. He never wastes a drop when it comes to you, and that’s something you know well.

Something he knows well is that you love tasting yourself on him, so before answering, he gently lifts your legs off his shoulders and rises up to press his lips to yours.

“Do I need to have a reason?” He murmurs into your mouth, kissing you again so you don’t question him further.

The test can stay his little secret for now, especially when he’s gathered so little evidence.

He’ll have to try it out a few more times, just to be sure.

AN: fully inspired by this ask thank you anon ily

My Masterlist

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letterstotheflre · 1 year

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❛ nope, puppy dog eyes aren’t going to work this time! ❜ w daryl 🥺🥺

i think this one turned out v v cute 🫶🏻 daryl might be a little ooc but then again i think it resembles the way he is w carol soo i don’t really care lol || set when daryl returns to the communities, before the snow storm episode of s9. ofc, sunshine!reader x grumpy!daryl <3

"absolutely not," daryl snarks resoloutely, sliding the strap of his crossbow over his plain black poncho.

"you're gonna get cold, daryl," you worry, following him around your shared room in alexandria as he packs his bag. he shoves his gun, a pack of bullets, an extra knife and some granola bars you made yourself inside it, closing the flap with a little more force than necessary.

you know you're being a worry wart. you know it's not even remotely cold enough for him to require any more winter accessories, but you can't stop thinking about how cold he must've been all those months alone in his camp.

"i ain't wearing matching pink hat 'n gloves, woman," he scoffs, looping his bag around his shoulders. "'sides, it's not even winter yet. quit yer worryin'."

"it's windy! your ears are gonna get cold!" you exclaim. "and there wasn't any other wool, s'not like i did it on purpose!"

you did do it on purpose. but he doesn't need to know that. (he does).

"pup," he sighs, "a little wind ain't gonna kill me. might even be good for me-- fresh air and all tha'. i don't need those."

you pout a little, open your eyes wide and pinck your eyebrows with your head tilted slightly forward. daryl narrows his gaze and points a finger accusingly, "don't do tha'."

"do what?" you ask innocently, batting your lashes.

he scowls. "y'know what."

you intensify your stare, pouting even more and even pressing your hands together in prayer, hat and gloves between your palms. "please?"

his firm glare relaxes ever so slightly before he seems to think better of it. "puppy dog eyes aren't gonna work this time, sunshine."

"i just want you to be safe and warm, daryl," you say sweetly, completely undettered. "please? for me?"

it's a tense standoff, you in your yellow pijamas and daryl in his usual all black ensemble. you know you've won when his shoulders finally drop and he heaves an exhausted sigh. "fine, gimme them."

you squeal and skip over to him, placing the hat over his head and fixing his long hair so it doesn't cover his eyes. you hand him the gloves. "y'can put these away in your bag just because they might make driving a little difficult. but you put 'em on whenever you're on foot, you hear me?" you say sternly.

daryl rolls his eyes but nods anyway, which makes it good enough for you. then you're back to cooing at him, framing his face with your hands and peppering sweet kisses all over his cheeks and nose. "oh, you look so pretty" this and "i wish i had a camera" that.

"okay, okay," he says, escaping your grabby hands. "i gotta go now. you be good, okay? and make sure dog doesn't bring 'nother walker foot."

"yes, sir!" you salute him, then quickly give him one last kiss on his chapped lips before he opens the basement door. "be safe. love you!"

"love ya," he echoes, closing the door behind him.

—

daryl pretends he can't feel the funny looks the rest of the alexandrian's are giving him as they pass him by.

he's waiting by the gates for carol. sees her rounding the corner and prepares himself for whatever she might say to him.

she freezes in place when she finally notices him, a few feet away from where his standing. when she finally seems to realise that her eyes are not lying to her, she approaches him slowly, doing him the favour of covering her mouth to not make her amusement obvious. it doesn't work very well because he can still hear a couple giggles.

"not a word," he growls, swinging his leg over his bike.

"whatever you say, barbie," she laughs, patting his shoulder.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fluff #love day <3 #gill :]

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ratedfleur · 3 months

Text

bend over, pretty girl.

↳ an excerpt to ganda and pogi’s world.

wherein motorcyclist!hao gets a little worked up when you wore one of his favorite skirts on you as he drove. what could go wrong?

zhanghao x filo!reader 2.6k word count genre ୭ explicit

🏷️ : motorcyclist!hao, outdoor sex, voyeurism (but no one is there), exhibitionism, creampie, dialogue is written in filo!

🔞 / nsfw link: smut visuals

it was way past rush hour when hao came to pick you up, he was waiting by his favorite ride, astra, as he scrolled on his phone before you came, calling out to him before you came up to him.

“hi ganda, tired na po?” hao says as he pockets his phone before grabbing your bag from you, placing it on the seat behind him before he lets you wrap your arms around his waist, breathing in his cologne.

you nod as you tighten your arms around his frame, feeling hao do the same before he settled his lips on your shoulder to kiss it.

“inaantok na pero—“ you say before your stomach growls, making hao chuckle as you blushed profusely.

he doesn’t mention it, instead he pulls away from the hug and takes your helmet from his motorcycle before slipping it on your head, safely buckling it in underneath your chin.

hao smiles before he flips the face shield down, taking your hand to lean in to place a soft kiss on the back of your hand, making you chuckle as you shook your head.

“let’s eat muna bago tayo umuwi.” hao says before he helps you hop on the bike, his brain briefly short circuits when he sees that you were wearing thee skirt that gets his brain all mushy.

innocently, you looked at hao who blinked a few times before he too hopped on the bike, securing his own helmet in place before he revved up his bike a few times before he drives off and has dinner with you which has your tummy happy.

nearly an hour and a half later, you two are going on a leisure drive, passing time before you both headed home. sometimes, you both liked to ride together just to spend time with each other, liking how the breeze would feel on your skin all while looking at the city’s landscapes.

but to hao, he liked to hear your giggles and satisfied sighs through the coms in the helmet, speaking to you ever so often. he liked that you enjoyed going on a ride with him despite the nerves rushing through your veins, he loved that you were able to take a quick breather with him.

“saan tayo pupunta, pogi?” you asked as hao kept driving ahead, heading into streets that he recognized.

“no place in mind naman, ganda. may gusto kang puntahan?” hao answers, looking over at you through the side mirrors, meeting eyes with you before you both smile at each other.

you shake your head, “take me wherever you desire, pogi. ikaw bahala.” you replied, trusting hao with wherever he wanted to go.

following your orders, hao just keeps driving, soon heading into the highways where he could rev up his bike before zooming through the highways like a bird in the sky.

you squeal before wrapping your arms tighter around hao’s waist when he picks up the pace.

when the pace is a little too fast, it gets a little too windy, giving you a subtle reminder that you were wearing quite a short skirt. now, your skirt was hiking up your thighs, bits of the fabric scrunched up on your front as you tried to keep it flat on your thighs.

he notices this as he feels you unwrap one arm off of his waist, pushing the skirt down in between your thighs.

hao tries so hard not to make your skirt fly up despite his fast speed, the wind glides through your skirt, you squeeze the front part of your skirt in between your thighs before pulling yourself closer to hao who’s hands tighten on the handlebars.

“babe, ang bilis— my skirt—“ you stuttered as you kept trying to keep the fabric still in between your thighs but despite the attempt to do so, it kept flying up due to the wind and speed that hao kept.

since you had your arms wrapped around hao’s waist, you had no choice but to inch closer towards hao’s back to keep your skirt in between your bodies, trying to avoid flashing those on the other side of the road.

but really, nobody could actually get a peek with how fast hao was going on the highway.

he mentally groans and curses when he feels your front pressing against his back, inching closer towards him innocently without knowing how worked up your boyfriend was getting as he drove.

“wait lang ha? i’m getting off the highway soon.” hao spoke, feeling you nod behind him as you crept closer to his back, now your front was placed right behind hao, separated by his favorite jacket and your top.

true to his words, hao does get off the highway and enters the city, his pace slowly slows down as he drove, making you sigh in relief as you took an arm off of his waist, now able to fix your skirt that was now fully hiked up, giving anyone a peek of your red panties if they were awake during these unholy hours.

“sorry, should’ve given you my jacket pala bago tayo pumunta ng highway.” he says softly before turning into a corner, hearing you hum when he turns into a secluded parking, thee secluded parking lot that you two dirtied up years ago.

hao smoothly parks into one of the darker parts of the parking lot, shutting the engine off once he parks his motorcycle.

unraveling your arms from his waist, hao hops off before taking off his helmet, placing it on the floor by the front of his bike.

hao’s hair is messy by then, he fluffs it up with e hand before he looks over at you taking off your own helmet, handing it over to him despite not knowing why you did so.

“harap ka nga, ganda.” hao says as he inched closer to you, watching as you shuffled in your seat, now letting your legs dangle over one side of the motorcycle as you faced hao who’s hands reached for your exposed thighs, caressing the goose-bumped covered skin from the cold breeze earlier.

“you like teasing me, huh? yung favorite ko pa talaga suot mo e alam mong susunduin kita gamit motor?” hao snickers when you blinked helplessly, not even trying to defend yourself. you liked to look pretty, but you loved it when hao drooled over you especially when you wore skirts around him.

“cat got your tongue, hmm?” he says before he reaches for your wrist, pulling you for you to stumble right on your feet as you hopped off, standing right in front of hao.

“ano? tutuwad ka o tutuwad ka?” hao asks, hand now busy in untying his sweatpants before you quickly turned around, flipping your skirt up and slipping your panties off, leaving it to dangle on your knees before you bent over for hao, forearms flat on his bike’s seat as you turned your head to look at hao who now jerked himself off as he came close to you.

“mag-ingay ka, ha? let it all out, wanna hear who makes you feel good.” hao purrs as he inched closer towards you, cockhead away from your hole by a few inches.

you could feel his head poking your cheeks as he jerked himself off, hearing hao’s grunts as he got himself fully hard for you before he inched closer before he reached and spread your cheeks apart just enough for him to slip right inside of your pussy, making you gasp and drop your head at the feeling of hao filling you up.

your mouth instantly releases breathy moans and calls, hips pushing back to further slip hao’s cock inside of you. your walls immediately pulse around his length, clenching repeatedly around his girth as hao starts to thrust inside of you, cock head hitting right at your spot because of your position.

your body nearly moves out of instinct, you move and rock forward, pulling your pussy off of hao’s cock before pushing your hips back, ass meeting with hao’s pelvis as you sunk back on his cock, repeating it before hao started to thrust into you, picking up the pace nearly immediately.

whilst pounding into you and listening to your loud moans that echoed into the dead of the night, hao’s hand reached down towards your pussy, fingers meeting with your puffy folds that dripped with slick as he kept thrusting into you.

the sound of squelch filled the quiet parking lot along with your moans, sounds of skin slapping were getting louder and louder by the minute because of how worked up hao was being especially with his thrusts and the way he touched you.

his nimble fingers quickly made their way in between your folds, meeting with your swollen clit that begged to be touched. your cries were desperate and loud once hao started rubbing your clit, no longer caring that you were in public as you moaned wantonly.

hao’s fingers are moving expertly against your pussy, pads of his fingers placed atop your clit as he massages them while thrusting, “basang basa ka, babe.” he hums, thrusting into you even faster when you moan as a reply, pussy clenching around his girth as you pushed your hips back, fucking yourself on him as he thrusted.

you continue to bounce on hao’s cock, moaning wantonly as he fucks you even harder, his hips roll even harder against yours as you pull yourself off of his dick before sinking back.

he knew you were slowly going dumb, only a few words were being spewed from your mouth along with his nicknames that you liked to call him.

“baby.. hmm sarap aahh.. bilis pa.” you moaned, picking your head back up as you threw a hand through your hair, brushing it up before hao pulled his entire length out before slamming it all into you, making you yelp before you held onto the sides of the seat.

hao keeps on slamming his cock into you until he fills you up to the brim, reaching deep into you as he grinds his hips against yours.

your pussy drips with slick after every thrust, your slick and hao’s precum dripped out of your pussy and onto your inner thigh, making each sound of skin slapping get even wetter because of how wet your thighs were getting.

by now, your skirt became all wrinkled by the way that hao held it in his hands as he gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he’s pounding your pussy.

sinking your teeth into your bottom lip, all hao could hear was your muffled whines, wet skin slapping against each other, and the squelch in between your legs.

“ano babe? sarap na sarap ka na agad?” hao chuckles when your pussy siezes up around his cock when he spoke, a silent reply to his question.

stilling his hips behind you, hao kept his entire length inside of you as he stopped moving, making you whine as you looked back at hao.

he looks at you with a teasing look on his face, “galaw ka naman, ganda. work for your orgasm too.” hao says, only holding onto your hips with your skirt all crumpled up in between the pads of his fingers.

whining as you took your eyes off of him, you held tightly onto the sides of the seat before moving your hips to pull a bit of his cock out of you before sinking back onto his length, moaning when his entire length is in you again.

hao watches you intently as you start to move and fuck yourself against his cock, walls clenching hardly around his girth as you kept pulling and pushing back to fill you up, to keep you both satisfied.

abruptly, he pulls away from you despite wanting to stay in your pussy before he cums deep inside of you, you cried out to him, whimpering when hao manhandles you. hao turns you around to face him before he held onto your waist, placing you on top of the motorcycle’s seat before making you lie down.

thankfully the seat was wide enough to cover your lower back as you tried to get comfortable before hao held onto your knees before lying the underside of your legs flat against his chest before sliding right inside of you, plunging his cock repeatedly into your pussy as you moaned his name.

“d-da— shit, oh my god.. i can’t—“ you cried, whimpering as you felt hao’s hips piston into yours as he fucked you, tears now streamed down your face as he fucked you harder. your chest heaved with pants as you cried and moaned, feeling your pussy clench around hao’s cock as he pulled out and pushed into you.

“‘m close, ganda.. gonna make you full with my cum, gusto mo ‘yon, ‘di ba? buntisin kita, gusto mo?” hao panted, fingers digging into your skin as he kept your legs flat against his chest.

you whimpered, nodding as you looked up at hao tearfully. “mhm, cum inside— please love, putok mo sa loob!” you cried out to him, feeling hao’s thrusts start to stutter as he plunged into you. his pace started to break once he heard those words coming from you, he always liked to hear that you wanted him to cum in you.

“please please, d-daddy.. sa loob mo putok, hngg ‘m gonna cum!” you whimpered a series of words, no longer knowing what to say first as you felt yourself nearing your orgasm.

you gasp sharply when hao suddenly thrusts hardly into you, his thrusts become merciless as he tries hard to get you cumming. hao keeps sliding his cock into you, head poking right at your spot which has you squirming and moaning his name as your hands reached up and scratched his veiny forearms.

“baby, ‘m close ‘m close..” you warn him as you clenched hardly around him once more, you warned him once more before you shrieked as you felt hao’s thumb rubbing your swollen clit once more, rubbing the swollen nub after each thrust which as your thighs shaking in his grasp.

by the time you start cumming around his cock, hao already has his eyes fixated on your cunt, watching as strands of slick and wetness connected both your cunt and his cock together. each thrust was wet, hao kept pounding your own cum deep inside of you, pussy contracting around his cock as he milked you dry from your orgasm.

he continues to thrust into you, listening to your whimpers after each thrust into your cum-filled cunt, your walls are repeatedly pulsing around his length after your orgasm, cunt practically begging him to dump his cum into you.

“putok ko sa loob, punuin kita ng katas ko— ugh shit babe, pussy so tight..” hao grunts before he curses once more as he pounds into you a few more times before he starts spurting cum into your pussy which gladly takes his cum.

cumming right into you, hao’s chest heaves with pants as he thrusts a few more times into you as he came, pushing yours and his cum deeper into your pussy before he pulled out, watching as a stream of cum dribbled out of your pussy and onto your skirt that lied underneath your ass.

“bili ka nalang ng bago pang skirt, hmm? nadumihan na po ulit.” hao chuckles as he quickly gathers the cum off of your skirt and onto your pussy instead, making you moan out loud once more once his fingers meet your wet and swollen pussy.

“babe naman eh, naka-ilang bili na tayo kaka-dumi mo.” you whined as hao moved in front of you, grabbing a pack of wet wipes from your bag before wiping you clean before doing the same to himself.

he briefly smacks the back of your thigh before snickering, “gustong gusto mo naman pag pinuputok sa loob.” hao says before you whined as you sat up, smacking him in the chest before complaining repeatedly.

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windydrawallday · 3 months

Text

This something I want to say because I feel like it and to save as a good reminder to myself too.

No matter the subject, characters, style, etc I draw: I consider myself a storyteller, an illustrator of emotions. I'm not just a fan artist of X thing, because I still love working on my OCs and projects now and then.

For me, fanart is just another medium to:

Have fun.

Relax (when not on a deadline haha).

Sharpen my skills.

Learn new things.

Connect with my emotions.

And if people find my art, connect with THEIR EMOTIONS.

My objective will always be in the end to leave a mark. To spark inspiration.

#windy squeals

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sebstan2020 · 3 months

Text

Red Ties

Chapter 22

Mary, a sweet Christian girl living in the city of Brooklyn as a nurse had a simple life. She loved her work, her friends and attending church every Sunday and helping Reverend McCarthy. Her life was nothing out of the ordinary. However, it all changed one day when she bumps into the intriguing and intimidating James Barnes, Brooklyn’s notorious mafia boss and is introduced to a world of guns, lust and dominance.

Warnings: BDSM, Dom/Sub, Mafia, Violence, Gang, SMUT, Sex, Possessive Bucky, Overprotectiveness, Bondage, Sexual Themes, Dark Themes, Guns, Drugs, Gang Violence

The week had flown by. Mary had spent nearly every night at James’s house. He had picked her up from work and was waiting for her in the hospital parking lot or outside the apartment complex where Mrs. McKenzie lived. He insisted on her staying with him. And now that Mary was so much more comfortable around him and excited for what he had planned, she was happy to say yes. Every night, he unlocked a new sensation, a new type of pleasure for her, and she’d wake up in bliss, wrapped in his arms, snuggled in his warmth, with kisses laid on her beautiful skin.

She had barely spent any time in her own apartment, and James even suggested she leave some clothes at his so she didn’t have to pack a bag each time. It was moving so fast, and Mary wasn’t even aware of it. It felt like ages ago since she met James that morning, and having never even been touched by a guy, she had experienced more with him in the few weeks, coming up to a month, than she had in her whole three years at college.

It was Friday evening at the hospital, and Mary was finishing up her shift. She was packing away her bag when Peter and Anya walked into the nursing station, having both finished their shifts as well.

"Hey, are you still coming tomorrow?” Peter asked.

"Yeah, of course, I’ll bring some homemade dips and chips," she suggested, throwing her bag over her shoulder to head outside. James would be waiting for her in the parking lot, and she didn’t want to keep him waiting.

“Great, I’ll bring the wings,” Anya said.

“I’ve got loads of drinks, and that... you guys staying over?” He asked.

“Sure, I’m not working Sunday, so it will be nice not to have to have an early night.” Mary smiled as they made their way to the front doors.

“Yeah, we are going to be hanging the next day." Anya agreed.

“You are; I’m not,” Mary pointed out. She wouldn’t be drinking. Alcohol was not her thing, and from all the times Anya has been hungover, it didn’t sound like it was very enjoyable the next day.

“Come on, girl, let yourself loose once in a while." Anya whined while Mary rolled her eyes.

“If she didn’t drink in college, what makes you think she’s going to start now?” Peter piped up. It was true, though. Mary was not the type to go wild like Anya. She was happy to be her sensitive little self. Although James had seemed to turn that around for her, over the last week or so, she had done things she would have never done before in her life.

"You never know... perhaps Mr. Handsome has changed her a bit." Anya wiggled her brows, and Mary scoffed, shaking her head. All week, Anya had been wanting every dirty little detail about her time with James, and Mary couldn't keep anything away from her, even if she tried. Anya had a way of sucking everything out and squealing in delight at the thought of her best friend finally being with a man.

But it wasn't like Mary was squealing inside herself, getting all giddy with him, and letting whatever sounds and noises needed to come out while he pleasured her in all different ways. How was a man this good at pleasing a woman she didn't know?

As they stepped outside into the slightly windy city, James was waiting for her, pressed against his car with his phone to his ear, shades covering his eyes. He looked gorgeous, dressed in his all-black suit with a black turtleneck jumper. Mary resisted the urge to bite her lip at just the sight of him and quickly busied herself with saying bye to Peter and Anya.

"I'll see you guys tomorrow," she smiled, quickly hugging them. As she went to Peter, he couldn't help but look over at James and see that he had removed his shades and was standing tall, watching intently from his car. He gave her a slight squeeze and a smile, and when she pulled back, he said a quiet goodbye before she jogged off to James.

"Hi," she greeted cheerfully as she reached him, and he immediately greeted her with a kiss before ushering her quickly into the car and swaggering off to his side, pulling away with a roar of the engine.

"Alright, talk to me," Anya said loudly, pulling Peter away and back to reality. He hadn't realised he had been watching Mary the whole time. "What?" he said, confused, but Anya raised her brows, tilting her head to the side as they wandered out of the parking lot. They both happen to have taken the subway today, so they took the walk together to the station.

"You know what I mean," she said, and Peter laughed nervously.

"No, I don't," he shurried, but he did.

"Oh, come on, Peter, even a monkey could figure this out," she huffed.

"Anya, I have no idea what you are talking about," he said seriously.

"I know you like Mary," she said with a matter of fact in her voice, and Peter scoffed.

"No, I don't," he said defensively, and Anya chuckled.

"Yeah, you do," she said with a sing-song tone to her voice.

"Me and Mary are just friends." He tried to cover it up but was doing a terrible job of it.

"Oh, really... if you're just friends, then why have you been so quiet lately every time we talk about her new boyfriend?" That's it; he had been caught out. There was no going back now or covering it up. He might as well come clean.

"Okay, yes, maybe I do like Mary," he sighed as he walked beside Anya, his head hanging down a little. But it didn't matter. She was with James now, and she seemed happy with him. There was no way he could even think about telling her he liked her. For one, it would ruin their friendship, and for two, he didn't even know if Mary liked him back. They were the best of friends, and he wouldn't want to ruin that by telling her how he feels. But what does it matter? She's with James now, and it doesn't sound or look like they were going to break up any time soon.

"But it doesn't matter; she's with him," he shurried, and Anya smirked.

"Oh, so you're jealous of James," she teased, and Peter glared at her.

"I'm not jealous. I just don't want her to get hurt. I mean, he seems like an okay guy, but you never know," he defended.

"This is her first boyfriend; even if he is the perfect guy, there's nothing anyone can do to stop you from getting hurt; it's part of the process," Anay shrugged.

"I mean, come on, don't you think it's a bit weird that he would buy her a new phone and pick her up all the time?".

"Maybe he's just being nice; it's obvious he really likes her." Anya defended. Peter wasn't so sure, but maybe he was just being a bit jealous.

"But I get what you're saying, and honestly, I sometimes get weird vibes from him," she admitted, and Peter furrowed his brows.

"What do you mean?".

"I don't know; he seems a bit intense sometimes, kind of like he's a bad guy, but we've not properly met him yet, so we can't really judge. But anyway, Mary likes you as her best friend. You don't want to ruin that with her; you're like a big brother to her." Shee elbowed him playfully, and Peter groaned.

"Great, just what I want.".

"I mean that in a good way.".

"Look, it doesn't matter; I'm happy for her as long as she's happy," he said, and Anya hummed.

"If you say so.".

Mary moaned at the top of her lungs, writhing around in bed as James rubbed his thumb against her clitoral area, sending pleasure through her body. Her toes curled against the bed sheets, and she grabbed hold of the pillow above her, pushing herself further in. James was attacking her neck with deep kisses, his teeth almost latching on like he was sucking her for blood, hitting the little spot that made her jump. She shuddered underneath him as pleasure took over, and she fell into a deep state of cloudiness. Her climax came, and she spilled all over his fingers, falling into exhaustion beneath him.

James removed himself from her neck, smirking at his work before awakening her with a kiss to her lips. She was well and truly finger-fucked and wasn't going to have any energy for the rest of the night, so he pulled her into his arms, covering her with the duvet, and kissed her goodnight, watching her sleep in his arms.

The following morning, Mary groaned softly as she woke, the feeling of soft finger tips gradually waking her up from her slumber of warmth and closeness. She slighly lifted her head from his chest, smiling up with a half-woke smile and narrow eyes.

"Morning," she said with a sleepy voice, and James took a deep breath.

"Morning," he said softly, his dazzling blue eyes staring down at her.

Even after a night full of intense finger-fucking, she looked beautiful. But his eyes flickered to something else, and the corner of his lip twisted up into a small smirk. He lifted his finger, running it across her cheek and down her neck, taking in his hard work last night. He circled that large red bruise forming just at the top of her neck, speckled around the edges, and the slightly raised pieces of skin from his tiny bite marks. She wouldn’t notice until she looked in the mirror, or perhaps she wouldn’t even know what that was.

But he would. His mark. If she was going to spend all night with the competition, then he had no choice but to leave a little reminder, and he certainly wasn't sorry for it. Mary hummed softly, pushing herself off his chest, although she didn't want to leave.

"Do you want some coffee?" she asked, and he nodded, sitting further up in bed so that his fine chest was on display.

"Yes, please," he said softly, his voice all husky and sexy, and Mary smiled, pushing herself out of bed and padding to the bathroom. She was getting used to sleeping naked now and walking around freely with nothing on. Before, she wouldn't have dared get out of bed without something covering her, but she had hopes that James would be watching her while she padded off.

James certainly had his eyes on her the whole time, and while she hid away in the bathroom, he waited for a shriek or panic at the sight of the hickey adorning her neck. He wasn't too sure how she would react to it, but either way, he wasn't regretting it. Mary went to grab the soft white robe hanging from the back of the door and slipped it over to conceal herself. She made sure to tightly tie the belt this time; after her little slip last time, she definitely didn't want that to happen. But as she looked up into the large mirror, something caught her eye, and she shuffled closer, narrowing her eyes at her neck.

A large red bruise, in a slightly odd oval shape, adorned the top of her neck on the right side, just underneath her jaw, and was sore to the touch. The slightly raised bits were tender and more red, as if blood had come to the surface and dried down. She hissed slightly at its soreness and scurried out of the bathroom.

"What's this?" Granted, she had no clue what the hell it was, and her question was more curious than cross. James was slightly relieved; she didn't have a clue, and he could take this one of two ways. Make some shit up about it being a natural reaction, or tell the truth. As much as he wanted to keep her innocence, he didn't want to lie to her, and he smirked, pulling her hand into his and pulling her forward.

"It's a love bite," he wanted to say, 'it's my mark, but that would most certainly freak her out. "When you suck on the skin there, it bruises slightly; it's not permanent," although he wished it was.

"Oh" was all she could answer as she reached for it, touching it with her finger. She wasn't sure what she thought of it, as it was all so new to her. James chuckled softly, reaching up and kissing her on the sensitive spot before trailing them up to her jaw. Mary couldn’t stop the moan from escaping as he hit the sweet spot and closed her eyes, falling into his touch.

“Don’t you want your coffee?” she said softly.

“I can think of something better I want,” he whispered into her ear, and she giggled softly, playfully pushing him off before managing to escape his grabby hands.

“I’ll be right back,” she promised, scurrying off to make his morning coffee, and James hummed, slipping back into bed.

Chapter 23

Hey I hope you like this chapter, what do you think of James leaving that hickey on Mary, let me know what you think in the comments

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#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #sebastian stan smut #bucky barnes fanficiton #bucky barnes smut #mob boss bucky barnes #mafia #dom bucky barnes

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the-tripping-and-the-touching · 4 months

Text

Christmastime

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: The keeping of Christmas Eve traditions.

Note: Happy Holidays !! Here's a little present from me to you guys <3

“You know that won’t be warm enough, sugar.” Coming up behind you, Jake wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him as he buried his face in the side of your neck. You let him pepper a few kisses around your skin before pulling his arms off of you, spinning to look in his eyes.

“It’ll be plenty warm, as long as you don’t shove any snow down it this year.” Brushing the shoulders of his coat, you gave him a glare. In turn, he played with the hood of your jacket, straightening it out and fluffing up the sides.

“No promises.” The semblance of a threat was whispered to you as he leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead. He let you take his beanie from his hands, even tipping his head forward a bit to ease the process of sliding it on over his hair. After fixing the edges of it, tugging and pushing until it rested perfectly on his head, your hands wandered down, one going to cup his jaw and the other slowly twirling a piece of long, dark brown hair on your pointer.

“At least make it a fair fight this time. No ambushes.” A toothy smile broke across his face, his lips getting closer to yours, eye contact unbreaking.

“But it’s so much more fun to hear you scream when you’re surprised.” With a peck on the lips and the gathering of skates over his shoulder, he was whisking you out the door, your hand in his.

❆

The walk to the lake was short, even shorter when Jake took you through the shortcut he and his brothers had established years ago. When he’d first taken you through it, the sharp right off of the established road had you stumbling over roots and getting caught on brambles. Now, your feet fell in unison with his, save for him helping you leap across small snow banks.

After the final avoidance of a stubborn root, belonging to the large oak that housed a rope swing for jumping into the lake in better conditions, you’d arrived at your destination. Sitting on the edge of the icy landscape, Jake untied your skates and handed them over, helping you lace them up once you’d put them on with a steady look of determination on his face. After tightening the laces of his own, he stood, offering both hands to get you back on your own feet.

“Let’s see if you’ve gotten any better at this.” He teased, stepping back onto the ice and pulling your hands to guide you. Taking cautious steps, you wobbled before sliding into his chest, clouds of warm breath intermingling before dissipating. “Nope.” His lips cracked into another grin, his teeth white as the snow that had already begun to fall in soft clumps around the two of you.

There wasn’t time to do anything but roll your eyes before he was propelling himself backwards, dragging you along with him. It was enough to elicit a squeal from you, making his smile grow wider, his eyes not leaving you. His gloved hands held tight to yours as you traversed the ice, slowly spinning circles into some abstract design as you began to steady.

Gently pulling you into his chest, he leaned into your ear, his warm lips ghosting across the chilled skin. “Don’t freak out.” Was all he said before releasing your hands from his grip, watching you as he leisurely skated away, leaving you stranded amongst the accumulating snow drifts.

“Jake!” Calling out to him, you tried to follow, inching towards him at an ineffective pace until you got too caught up glancing at your skates dragging across the frost, looking back up to find him out of sight. You scanned the increasingly windy landscape as your cheeks got colder, searching for any sign of his form in the quickly dimming winter afternoon.

Before you could shout his name again, you heard the all too familiar scraping of his skates and the unfortunately recognizable feeling of your hood being pulled down and fresh packed snow being dumped down the back of your jacket. You shouted, the powder already starting to melt into your shirt. Too shocked to think, you made a move to spin around, catching the back of your skate on his, sending both of you tumbling onto the unyielding surface below.

Infuriatingly satisfied, he fell over you, saving you from impact at the last moment by extending his arm to catch himself while the wind whipped around you, cutting through the sound of his laughs. It was almost cruel, the way you couldn’t stay mad at him when he was as happy as he tended to get after his pranks. The way the edges of his mouth curled up into your favorite smile. The way his eyes closed, the edges crinkling to match the laughter. And right now, the way the cold had painted his cheeks the most perfect rosy pink. “You should’ve seen the look on your face when you realized we were going down, sug. Nothing beats when I get you like this.”

In an effort to shut him up for even a moment, you grabbed the back of his neck, tugging his face down to plant a kiss on his chilled lips. They warmed quickly, your shared breath making quick work of revitalizing both of you until the small flurry began to pile snow around your extremities. Parting from him, you stared in his eyes, the warm, homey brown of them drawing you in until you remembered what had to be done. In a quick move, you stole his beanie, his hair getting caught in the wind as you ran a cupped hand up his back, gathering enough snow to plant right on top of his head.

And suddenly, you thought, maybe you understood him. His immediate yelp of surprise, his comforted smile dropping in a second as he scurried to grab his beanie back and brush the snow off of his head before it could melt. “That wasn’t fair!”

“Like you’d know anything about fair! And for the record, I was plenty warm until you attacked me.” You giggled as you reminded him of the ambush he had sprung on you just moments ago. Out of any valid argument, he rolled his eyes and stood up with a simper, resigned to a walk back with damp hair. Bringing you back up to your feet, he linked your arm with his before steadily skating you both back to the edge of the lake, landing skillfully in a fresh snowbank.

Once your walking shoes had been located and put on in place of skates, he retied the laces, slinging both pairs over his shoulder before leading you back home. His arm looped tight around your waist, the wet of the snow he’d so graciously dumped down your jacket consistently making its presence known to you.

❆❆

After a quick change into something drier, you’d taken your spot on the couch, right in front of the fire Jake had started the moment you got home. Hearing clinking coming from behind, you turned to find him carrying two mugs by their handles in one hand, the other holding a plate of cookies.

He took his spot beside you, dragging your blanket over to cover his own legs as well before picking your mug back up and handing it to you. Hot cocoa, made just the way you liked it, served in the mug he’d made for you on one of your very first dates. Sipping on it, you eyed the plate he’d brought over with it as he pressed his tea bag to the side of his mug with a spoon, the light of the twinkling lights overhead catching in the ripples the movement created. “Where’d those come from?”

After setting the spoon down and placing the bag in it, he picked it up and set it down on his leg. “Baked ‘em last night. Couldn’t sleep after you were out. It’s interesting, I always want to bake more during the holidays.” He picked one up, swiping it through the whipped cream adorning your drink before taking a bite.

Once you grabbed one of your own he moved the plate back to the coffee table, along with his mug. He watched intently as you took your own bite, beaming once you gave him a grin of approval. “Really good, Jakey.”

“Thanks sugarplum.” Satisfied, he took your mug from your hand, setting it down next to his before kissing your forehead again. He brushed his thumbs over your cheeks, the warmth of his hands melting away any worries you could’ve possibly had.“Sorry about the snow.”

“No you’re not.” You smiled before popping the rest of the cookie in your mouth, leaning your head down onto his shoulder as he laid an arm over yours.

Tracing small circles on your arm with his fingers, he let out a soft chuckle. “No, I’m not.”

Note: My taglist form is live! You can find it here.

#Spotify #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka gvf #gvf fic

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nepxnth3 · 1 year

Text

A Rainy Day In

Wally x G!N reader

It was a windy, Outside it was pouring heavily

“Wally, it’s raining, like a lottt” you pointed out to Wally. “It seems like it is.” He replied. “You say stay till the rain is over, if you go out in the rain you could get sick.” expressing worry. “Mmmm, you’re right, we could do some fun stuff.” He smiled. “Like what?” You raised a brow. “Mmmm, we could draw.” He requested. “That sounds good!” You smiled at him.

You both got your art materials, your watercolors, pencils, color pencils, crayons, oil pastels, paint etc. “Wally, do you mind being my reference?” You asked Cheerfully. “Of course!” He smiled.

He sits on a stool and crosses his legs with a cocky smile. You grab your pencil and Sketch and drew guidelines. Both of you couldn’t stop staring at each other and smiling, you guys were blushing. “You look handsome, you know that?” You chuckled. “ I know, I’m gorgeous, Aren’t I?” He said playfully. “Stop moving!” You giggled.

After an hour or so, you finished your art. “Wally I’m finally done, come look at it.” You called to him. He gets off his stool and walks over to you over your shoulder. “It looks beautiful.” He softly smiled. “It’s not as good as the reference.” You looked at him. He was blushing and smiling. “When the rain is over I’m going to keep it in home” he smiled, admiring the painting.

“Can I draw you now, Neighbor?” He smiles. “Of course, I mean I drew you so I’d be fair, what position should I be in?” You asked him. “Any position would be fine” he answered. You hold a apple like a shakespeare holding a skull. He stared at you, admiring each part of you. You blushed the more he stared. He had this lovey dovey look in his eyes. “Hey, don’t look at me with those eyes!” You said clearly flustered. “What eyes, darling?” He joked, he lowered his eyelids, having half closed eyes. You blushed even more and you rolled your eyes “Those eyes, silly” you smiled trying not to show you were beyond flustered. Even though you didn’t try to show you were flustered he knew it, He had a cocky smirk and chuckled before continuing with his art.

You stayed in a position for a while before he was done. “Ah.. it’s done now, Y/n. What do you think?” He nervously smiled. You came to see it and it was . . .

Beautiful

Beyond beautiful, it was gorgeous. There was so much detail and you can clearly see he went into detail, you just couldn’t even describe it. You were so shocked you even put it in word. You hugged him tightly “Wally, it’s perfect!” You squealed in excitement. Out of excitement you kissed his cheek.

Wally’s heart skipped a beat as he saw you this happy. He started blushing and when you leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I’m glad you love it!” He chuckled.

He smiled hopefully he just maybe stay a little longer.

Author’s Note: Im sorry this one was a little shorter than normal. I plan to make more reader x Wally soon. ٩◔‿◔۶

#wally darling x y/n #welcome home wally #wally darling #wally darling x reader #welcome home #welcome home x reader

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izukuwus · 10 months

Text

(they all have) so much meaning - Midoriya Izuku/Reader (18+)

Next (coming soon?) - M.list - Ao3

A/N: ok so despite the spiderweb thing I actually did most of the writing for this BEFORE I watched across the spiderverse and veered clear into my government-mandated spider-man phase. I kind of want the tattoo, though.

(why yes, I DO default to The Front Bottoms lyrics every time I can't think of a good title for a fic. it's bc I'm right.)

Summary: It's your third date with your long-standing no-longer-crush, and Izuku just found out that you had a tattoo. You let him take a long look.

Warnings: public sex, oral (reader receiving), afab reader, reader has a tattoo, exhibitionism

Notes: Reader has a tattoo and established quirk. Yes, they're a literal emotional vampire. I can only write so much without vampires getting involved.

Word Count: 3600+

Midoriya Izuku is a pretty boy with sharp teeth and a brilliant mind. He does not possess the mind for what one would call a normal conversation, really, but you knew that long before agreeing to the first date, let alone the second.

By the end of date three, you’re honestly proud of him. I mean, neither of you got through the date without stuttering, which is fucking ridiculous given how long you’ve known each other, but compared to the first date’s rocky start, you both did a fantastic job! You completed the date with minimal stuttering between the two of you, and thanks to your quirk, you’re confident in saying both of you feel a fond sadness as he drives you home. You could have taken the train—planned on it, actually—but he’d insisted, and who were you to not say yes, if only to bask in his presence a little longer?

“I didn’t know you had a car,” you confess. You’re sitting on your hands, self-conscious for a myriad of reasons, least of all because having sat on your hands has left you hyperaware of how much thigh is visible in this skirt. “Is it new?”

Stupid question. It’s obviously new, and nice, too. Admittedly, you don’t know shit about cars, but you do know enough to be able to tell when one is nice. It’s shiny, for one, with a sleek, vintage look and classic black paint, and you don’t have to be a genius to know that any car with a convertible top is probably not super cheap. The seats, too, are luxurious—a dark, soft leather that caresses your legs quite nicely.

The trouble with leather is, again, directly correlated with how much thigh is exposed by this skirt. Being July, the world is hot and sticky, which means miniskirts, which means issues around gross men, windy days, and leather fucking car seats.

“It is, actually!” He lets out a nervous laugh. It’s strange to see him driving, strange to see scarred hands confidently turning the wheel. Izuku had asked if you wanted the top down, since it was a hot day, and nice out, and—

You had agreed with a nervous bubble of laughter. The novelty of it was a good draw. You’d heard “top down” from pretty lips and agreed without a second thought.

The thing about Midoriya Izuku is that, for all the years you’ve been friends—since entering high school, really—you have danced around one another like this.

Nervous laughter, words flowing so easily that they slip right past your filter or otherwise don’t make it to your lips. Honestly, you don’t need him to tell you that he didn’t mean to ask you on the first date when he did—he had the same affliction, where things were said too easily and then followed by the cringe. Hindsight is always 20/20, which meant that the moment he'd asked to take you out to a movie and let the word "date" slip, he was immediately running damage control, and you'd let "I'd like a date, actually" slip before you really realized the ramifications of it. So you had gone home to panic and squeal, and he had gone home to panic and squeal, and now here you were, three dates down with the rising star of the hero world, a title you did not begrudge him.

“Since when did you need a car with that quirk?” you tease. Right now, it’s easy. The nerves of being with someone who wants you instead of just likes you don’t strangle your throat.

“Well, I could have just carried you home, but I think that might draw too much attention?” The thoughtful look in his eye slides away to something else as he casts a glance your way, maybe a bit lower, and his face burns red before you. “Not to mention, um, it might not be advisable, um…”

You got the message. You shift a little in your seat in hopes that it’ll give the fabric cause to slide down a little bit. “Y-yeah, uh, maybe not. I’ll have to wear shorts underneath next time!”

Another glance at your thigh before the light turns green. You try not to think about the little surge in his emotions pressing insistently at you. His cheeks seem impossibly redder, and he turns his eyes to the road, ever dedicated to safe driving practices. “I-if you want! You looked really nice tonight, though! I mean it!”

It’s mildly amusing, watching him flounder like this. If you had less shame, you might revel in seeing his face go full strawberry just to pay you a compliment, especially after having fought a few villains alongside him and having seen that version of Izuku in action. He’s borderline unrecognizable like this, making still-nervous conversation and trying not to stare at your legs as he drives you home.

The fluttery, nervous energy between you is, if nothing else, good fuel for your quirk, and you catch it in the air and stock it away until the pair of you reach your destination.

“Thanks again.” You flash him your best smile as he parks, and you’re unsurprised to see him move to open your car door. Such a gentleman. “For driving me home, I mean. I would have made it home fine, but…”

“It’s not a problem at all! I wanted to.” He opens your door, offers you a hand, and once again, you regret the skirt.

In your defense, the skirt had passed the date check. It covers your ass, covers your tattoo when standing, and was cute enough to justify wearing out of the house!

It does not, however, pass the car check, which is what you discover as a movement to unstick your thighs from the seat also has the hem riding up far enough to show off your tattoo. You know, the one you didn’t tell anyone you got. The one whose location you picked because (and I quote) “if anyone I’m not actively sleeping with sees it, we have bigger problems than their opinions on my tattoo”. That tattoo. That someone you are not actively sleeping with (not yet, anyway) just got an eyeful of. Most of, at least.

He’s practically babbling, avoiding eye contact as he apologizes and helps you out of the car. “I-I didn’t know you got a tattoo.”

“Oh, uh, yeah! I did! I lost a bet with Mina and had to get something done, so I thought I’d go for something cute.” You nearly babble the words, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Cute” is not the word you had used to describe the design when you’d come up with it, and the bet you lost was really just a pretense so you had an excuse to get the tattoo anyway, but, you know. It’s the little things as far as word choice is concerned.

You rub the back of your neck. “It didn’t hurt as bad as I thought it would, actually. And the artist did a great job with it!”

“I didn’t get to see it really well, but I’m sure they did a really good job!”

“I mean, I could show you,” you reply, and there it is. Once again, your words beat your brain to the punch.

“I’d like to, if you’re comfortable with it!”

And there’s his burst of nervous energy, which, to be fair, hasn’t gone down a bit since you met at the restaurant earlier this evening, only climbed. You’ve learned that when you feel that particular spike of energy arc off him, it’s him doing the exact “say things you mean but don’t mean to say” thing you do. Small comforts, you suppose.

“Sure,” you manage, and then you’re lifting the hem of your skirt to show him the tattoo in all its glory.

Its design is that of a garter wrapping around your thigh, delicate lace forming spider webs in the “band” of the tattoo. It’s pretty, it’s possibly a bite too sexy, and it’s perhaps a bit too far up your thigh to be showing off in any way anyone would consider modest. In the dark of your poorly-lit driveway, Izuku seems to find himself crouching and leaning in to be able to properly inspect your inked thigh, and you feel a little surge of something wave off of him.

It’s not until you let that particular energy feed you and compare it to your own feelings that you realize he’s turned on. Part of it might be the position—the fire racing through your veins at lifting your skirt up partway for a pretty face crouching in front of you is likely matched by being the pretty face crouching before your date’s lifted skirt. Just as quick as it came, it’s replaced by a hot flush of shame, an emotion you know well.

That one, you don’t need to guess the source of. Izuku’s spent countless hours talking to you about the intricacies of your quirk over the years, and by now he’s more than aware that you feel every little surge of emotional energy around you, having given his permission to you to feed off of whatever he puts out.

When he lingers staring just a bit too long, you slowly lower your skirt and manage a nervous laugh. “So what do you think?”

“It’s a really well-done tattoo! I like the design, it’s very, uh—hot. I mean! Pretty! It’s pretty! I’m sorry, I don’t know why I said that, that was completely inappropriate and you probably don’t think of me that way and I swear I’m not the kind of guy who—“

“Izuku.” This time, there’s no nerves in your laughter. “Did you think I was platonically lifting my skirt for you?”

He freezes. You draw a blank from the air between you, and he stares, flush-faced and wide-eyed, at you. “Lift it all the way, then,” he breathes, and then comes the panic. “Oh my god. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’msosorry—“

You wish you could say that you had some cool, flirtatious response ready to go, some smooth line that would get you branded pick up artist extraordinaire, but you’re rendered entirely speechless. The thought that perhaps this is moving faster than normal relationships might flits past your brain as you grasp the sides of your skirt in two fists and lift it the rest of the way.

His frantic apologies die in his throat. For a moment, you think he dies, too—even his emotional signature is completely blank. He rests, half-crouched, green eyes cataloging the sight like he’s studying for a test. He sucks in an audible breath as he processes it and the heat of arousal floods back from him. You like to think it’s because of one detail you didn’t really expect to come up tonight:

Your tattoo matches your panties.

Izuku is surging attraction towards you in waves intense enough that you’re sure someone else must be able to feel them. There’s no one here to notice, though.

It is an eternity of him staring at your bare thighs, inked lace and real lace maybe two inches from touching, and then he is bringing calloused fingers up to hover just above the ink in your skin. “M-may I, uh—“

You try not to flinch when those same calloused fingers rest on plush flesh. He traces the lines of the tattoo almost reverently, eyes following his fingertips, occasionally flicking upwards just a bit, and you keep your eyes locked on his expression the entire time.

So focused on watching his face, you miss his fingers trailing inwards. You don’t miss them when they brush at the place your thighs kiss. Another little flinch, but this time he retreats to gauge your expression. “Is this okay?” he’s asking you. Your mind is tethered to the spot where his fingers rest on too-hot skin. “I-I don’t want to push too hard or assume anything, and—“

Your words are failing you, but you give a frantic nod. You’re not convinced you’ve ever been this turned on in your life, you’ve lost track of the feel of his emotions pressing against yours, and the only words coming to your mind at this point are: New kink. Score.

You think he thanks you as his fingers slide across your skin, but you can’t be too sure, because his fingers have left the tattoo to climb in agonizing slow motion up your thigh. They brush, rough and so, so gentle against the lace of your panties, and this time, you flinch properly, fabric slipping from your fingers to rest on his wrist.

The look Izuku gives you is uncharacteristic and nearly stern. “I want to see,” he says, gentle and sweet, as though he’s pleading with you to show him some innocent photo rather than to keep your skirt held up for his viewing pleasure.

Automatically, you’re lifting your skirt again, and he nods in appreciation. “If at any point you want me to stop, or slow down, or… any of that, tell me?”

“Mhm. I promise.”

“Good,” he says, and it’s so dangerously close to what you really want to hear that you have to suppress a shudder.

Again his fingers brush the lace covering your sex, and this time, you don’t drop the skirt. You hold it tight, even as Izuku’s fingers press into the space between your thighs, and you find yourself leaning back against his car for support. When his other hand rests on your opposite knee and pushes outwards just a touch, you let your legs part in turn.

You have the sense he hasn’t done this much. You know he hasn’t, actually—you have on good authority that he has precious little experience in the romance department, and, having been more or less in love with him for several years now, you aren’t faring much better. Maybe that’s why it’s so electric when he presses an experimental line on the outside of your panties. Maybe that’s why the shame burns so hot when his fingertip comes away damp.

His voice comes out a whisper. He’s staring up at your face in awe. “Are you…”

You nod, squeezing your eyes shut tight. “This is, like… insanely hot. You’re insanely hot.”

“Good,” he breathes, and then he’s slipping his hand past the band of your panties and touching you directly.

You jump a little at the contact, biting your lip to keep from gasping out. One experimental finger dips into you, and you take it readily.

That same finger leaves you quickly, and then you feel him tentatively tugging down your panties. When you peek at him, you find big, green eyes silently asking your permission.

“Please,” you whisper.

The panties are dragged down to your ankles, and then he’s returning to you in full force, sliding a single finger in and out of your hole, curling it inside you as though he’s figuring out how you react to each motion. Before long, he’s adding a second finger, moving so slow it’s torture more than pleasure.

He’s experimenting. Learning.

Your stomach flutters at the thought—he was always a fast learner. Too late, you realize that, oh shit, he just felt that, and now he’s staring up at you with wide eyes and red-stained cheeks.

“More,” you plead. “Please, ‘Zuku.”

The name slips from your lips so easily you almost forget you’ve pushed to a new level with him. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, except that he stops and retreats again, to your whiny distress.

“Can you spread them for me?”

“My legs?”

He shakes his head. “I want to see everything.”

Oh.

You shift so you’re holding your skirt in the center, and then a hand slides down to spread your lips for his viewing pleasure. He hums in contentment, and you’re aware of a subtle shifting of his position, though you’re not sure why.

“Trust me?”

“Always.”

That’s the only trigger he needs—he doesn’t return to fingering you, but those hands, large and scarred and rough against your skin, wrap around behind you as he replaces fingers with his mouth.

First a tentative taste, then a starved lick like a man starved, and oh, he’s always been good with his mouth, hasn’t he? Rambling, mumbling, brilliant thoughts have nothing on the feeling of his tongue as it finally plunges into you, the starved way he eats you out.

He’s still experimenting with you, still playing with you, but the curiosity of it all steadily falls away as he lets his instincts take the lead. When he at last brushes your clit and you gasp and your knees buckle, he takes note. He holds you up with ease, eyes half-lidded as though he’s torn between losing himself in the act and watching your reactions as he goes.

Two arms holding you up turns to one effortless arm around your waist. You have no time to consider where the other’s gone—he’s plunging those thick, rough fingers into you all over again, sucking on your clit, and suddenly you’re immensely grateful for the arm around your waist, because there’s no chance in hell you’re standing on your own like this.

His motions approach frantic. He is moaning quietly into your pussy, losing himself in it, and you’re grasping desperately for anything to find purchase on and finding only the smooth body of the car.

It doesn’t take you long. Before either of you realize it, you’re quivering, legs going fully weak, biting down on your free hand to keep from moaning out as you cum on his tongue.

He does not stop. He pulls away, just a moment, and you’re aware that you’re moving, but your head’s gone fuzzy from the everything of it all, so it takes you extra time to realize that he’s laid you across the back seat and climbed on top of you, lips pressed against your own. He keeps breaking away to mumble apologies against your lips—I’m sorry, I wanted our first kiss to be romantic, I wanted all of this to be romantic but I’m—and you find the cognizance within yourself to swallow those apologies with another kiss. You taste salty on his lips.

He is melting into the kiss, pulling away somewhat less frantic than he had been, eyes studying your face.

You quirk a smile his way. “Is it too forward to tell you I think you’re hot?”

He huffs a little breath of laughter against your lips. “Only if it’s too forward for me to say the same.”

You giggle, wind your arms around his neck. “Not too forward, I’d say.”

His hand trails up your side, fingers toying with the edge of your shirt. You’re glad, also, for the choice to wear a button-down over a tank top. The decision had been risky, and it’s not like you picked this outfit for access, but you’re appreciating that access now. He’s not even seen you naked yet, but he’s looking over you beneath him reverently, trailing fingertips up and down your clothed side.

“I can’t believe how gorgeous you are,” he confesses in a murmur. And then: “I always thought you’d look pretty underneath me. You always looked pretty, of course! I just mean… wow.”

“I haven’t even taken my clothes off for you yet.”

“If you seriously think you need to take your clothes off for me to think you’re the hottest thing alive, I don’t even know what to tell you.”

“Oh come on. You’re exaggerating.”

He grinds his hips down into you, and oh fuck. Maybe he’s not. “Does that feel like exaggerating to you?”

It was barely a moment, but that little press of his hips to yours was enough to be sure of one thing: he’s big. Between the muscles and the package between his legs, you are well set to be split in half.

You welcome the opportunity.

“Mm, I’m not sure. Better do that again so I can check.”

Another drag of his lips against yours. Another roll of his hips against yours. This he grants you eagerly, groaning into your mouth.

Something presses at you that’s not him and his devastatingly horny state.

You intake a breath, pull away, press a hand to his mouth. He gets the message, easily—someone is nearby. A neighbor, stepped outside for a moment. He takes the hint, presses his whole body against yours in an attempt to conceal himself from view.

When the presence leaves, and you’re sure you have the advantage of privacy again, you give him a little nod and peel your hand from his mouth.

A small smile, a small laugh. “I think we might have finally cleared the air between us.”

He tilts his head down at you with just a touch of mischief in his eyes. “I thought we were doing good.”

“We were! We were also an entire trainwreck.”

His cheeks tinge pink. “I-I was doing my best!”

“I know. We both were.” You ghost a kiss onto his nose. “We should head inside, though.”

“Inside?” he squeaks, as though it’s something scandalous.

“You do realize you just ate me out in the middle of the parking lot, right? I think you’re maybe at the point where I can invite you into my apartment.”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

“You’ve been in my apartment before. You helped me move in!”

He whines, buries his face in your neck. “That was different!”

“Oh, poor ‘Zuku. But you know, if you come inside, I could return the favor…”

You’re not really sure what configuration of anything makes it happen, but one moment, you’re sprawled underneath him in the backseat of his car, the next, he has you in his arms bridal-style, as though you weigh nothing at all.

He takes the staircase one flight at a time. You don’t go back on your word.

Tags: @deeplightgarden @idonthaveanameideayet @dusstory @stxrrielle @snowymaltese @graywrites20

OKAY we are revamping the taglist. I've wiped it of all except recent requests just to quickly weed out inactive blogs.

If you'd like to be tagged, let me know by either replying, reblogging, or sending an ask letting me know what you'd like to be tagged in! (Eg. updates to this fic, all izuku fics, only nsfw fics, only sfw fics, all bnha fics, etc.) If at any point you'd like to be taken off the taglist, no hard feelings, just let me know!

#my fics #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #deku x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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oncewhenalongtimeago · 3 months

Text

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 18

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 5041

The two of you are irresponsible. Things end up fine, anyways.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, Dragons: Defenders of Berk, Race To Fireworm Island, unedited, part one

“Yak dung, if ye brew’t ri’gh, yae can-”

You stared out at sea, legs stood apart, fur boots planted firmly against the wooden deck, fists on your hips and smelt the sea, which was a lot less fishy and foul than it had been by the docks, where stall owners tended to drop their fish guts.

Listening to the other two sailors talk was kind of boring. Apparently Yaks weren’t native to this part of the world. They were a far off import from a long time ago, which explained why Gobber and the other Vikings treated them like they were the ultimate cure-all.

“Aye, how abou’ we talk about something besides yak dung, you old frigate? I ‘prom I can’ ‘nit bear one more momen’ of- of-” The younger man spoke, voice tinged with a bit of roboticism and a definite note of disinterest.

The last you checked, he was quite gruffly doing his best to untangle the knotted fronts of an old, frayed net, probably rife with holes.

Everyone was a warrior, few got to be nothing besides that.

Berk’s close knit community kept anyone from really falling into poverty unless they sucked or were new, but the few fishermen here on Berk that were unlucky enough to end up poor tended to have heavier accents than everyone else, spending most of their pay on their dying ships, in contrast to some of the other boats, with hardy shiphands and large decorated, painted sides.

This one, the one you were on, was old and small but incredibly hardy, though it felt like it might sink down in still waters. As you heard, it did surprisingly well during a storm.

Family boats died hard, it seemed. And he was very insistent that that boat ran in his family.

It took a while for you to ascertain the knowledge that here, you were actually supposed to poop on a poop deck, not that you wanted to. It was more like you’d been shown how they did it which was very similar to just leaning their butt over the side railing and roughing it in front of everyone.

You did not enjoy that show.

You didn’t think anyone here was there for that boat trip. You found that very good.

You were at sea with two other sailors, an old man, large but frail as his boat, and a younger middle aged man who had very little interest in anything but the nets.

The sea was oddly still though still windy as you felt through your very casual tunic and trousers. You figured it would be a waste to wear more.

A thick pouch attached to your hip bounced against your waist as the ship rocked.

Today, you were a fisherman’s hired helping hand. It was a while since you’d helped on a ship. It was usually the poorer ones who couldn’t afford anyone hardier who pulled you up.

You were slightly pleased with it, though, as you raked across the sky with your eyes. Lunch was cheaper when you were part of the team catching it.

In the sky, you spotted the few birds brave enough to squeak and squeal and flip with dragons lurking around the clouds.

With a burst of enthusiasm, you waved up at them as they dotted the sky.

There were a few groups, not all clear enough for you to make out any more than a dot. And a little further back… There were what looked like the Riders.

You could make out the bright blur form of Stormfly and Astrid’s blonde head of hair on top. Behind her is who you thought were the twins.

You wondered where they were off to.

You eep-ed as a dot separated from the flock.

As the dot grew larger on the horizon, as you recognized the dark, swooping wings of the Night Fury and as it came closer, you realized, of course, that it was Hiccup and Toothless.

“Alr’gh, lass, You grab one end of the net and I’ll-” The old fisherman grumbled from behind, before cutting himself off, “By jove, what’s he want from ‘ere?”

His long, gray beard and ponytail shifted with the wind, and bald spot, which you presumed was caused prematurely a long time ago, half marred by a barely noticeable burn scar, slightly reflected the glare of the sun.

“Speak not of the Romans here, ol’ man,” The younger fisherman grumbled as you glanced back, his unevenly chopped, short brown hair blowing wildly as he limped and dragging his feet up behind him.

The old fishermen’s thin, threadbare brown fur tunic bollywood in the wind. It was patchy, something most Vikings on Berk could relate to but none would be bothered by besides the poorer, without the coin or resources to procure a new bit of fabric to replace.

Your own clothes were thin and not enough during the best of times.

You turned back up to the sky, nearly startled to see how far both Hiccup and Toothless had traveled in such little time, then backed up as they got nearer and nearer, quickly moving to compensate as they pul;led right up to the side.

The ship rocked dangerously as Toothless landed against the side, this fishing boat being a bit smaller than was typical, also positioned dangerously close to a set of rocks just barely peeking out of the water.

“Oi!” The old fisherman shouted angrily, as a spray of water rained down on them from above, just barely missing you, “Watch it, you-!”

“You watch i’, yae old man,” The brown haired fisherman said abruptly, scowling and fixing his accent and twisting his torso, sort of lanky but not nearly enough to be ousted from viking hood, dropping his net and coming over to cover the old man’s mouth, “Tha’s the Chief’s son.”

You winced, imagining his fishy breath over your own fingers, holding some pity for him though he didn’t look like he wanted or needed it.

Hiccup laughed awkwardly and winced, peering back at the rocks as Toothless sniffed around disinterestedly.

“We go’ no fish for ye, beast!” The old man yowled raspily, throwing off the younger man’s hand and shaking his fist.

Hiccup looked at the fisherman with a slight grimace though he didn’t say anything.

You blew a puff of air out into the ether, looking to the side and inhaling a new, fresh breath and feeling the lungs in your chest expand as you did.

These kinds of spats were not something you had a particular interest in.

Hiccup neither, it seemed.

“Hi?” He asked awkwardly, turning his attention away from them and looking down at you from where he was seated on Toothless, whose claws were digging into the railing, which you were sure was going to give the old fisherman an ulcer later.

“Hello,” You responded. You supposed that by now you should be feeling at least a little bit of Deja Vu but you really did not at all, “Where are you off to?”

“So, ah, how’s…?” Hiccup asked awkwardly, “Is now a bad time?”

You both stared back at the older fisherman who was now squabbling with the brown haired guy, who was busy holding him back, his arms hooked under the back of the old fisherman’s.

“It’s been… fine,” You said, “He’s kind of crazy, I think. Don’t mind it much.”

“Right…”

You heard a loud sniff as what must’ve been Toothless knocked over a small barrel on the other end of the ship, causing some weird-smelling liquid to spill over onto the deck.

“Shouldn’t they be doing better, with all the dragons nearby? You know…” Hiccup gentured down towards the head of his dragon, sniffing at a few closed baskets by the side of the boat, “...Fish?”

“No, ah,” You hummed, nodding to the dingy floorboards and the frayed everything; this vessel wasn’t even painted, a great deal smaller than the other ships, “There’s more fish now because of the dragons doing less hunting, which means an easier catch, food has to cost less in order to feed more and to sell and because most people can probably catch their own fish, and also this boat is kind of…”

You cleared your throat, shaking off the remnants of the fisherman’s accent, lingering along the edges of your voice.

You didn’t pick up on the whole thing until very, very recently but on the regular, you spoke in a way that was more formal than the rest of Berk.Of course, you knew you had an accent, but often you found that as you spent more time with the villagers, in an effort to be more polite, you tried to adapt the accents of the people you were speaking to in order to mask your own foreign one.

It helped, some.

“Right,” Hiccup said again, “We’re- we’re looking for Fireworms. The others and I. I should probably…”

“For Snotlout?” You asked.

You looked back and then up towards Hiccup again. They usually managed just fine without you, and it was an awfully calm day.

Would you leave them behind?

To be fair, if you stayed, you were sure to get an earful. So you didn’t feel bad about it at all.

“How did you know?” Hiccup asked.

You squinted.

Hiccup was positioned just so that the sun glared down from around him, which was a bit painful to your eyes.

“Well…” You started.

There wasn’t much the Riders did that had anything to do with the Jorgensons when Snotlout wasn’t involved and the ‘Louts had been particularly grabby recently. What wasn’t for them?

They took the island very seriously and themselves even more so as the ‘protectors of the island.’

From your interactions with the rest of the Jorgenson house and, more importantly, the head, you knew Spitelout was very rough on Snotlout.

Depending on the Jorgenson, they were either sort of wasteful or wasteless to an unreasonable degree, throwing things out before they could be fixed and using old, broken tools even after it became incredibly dangerous to do so, but they were also very rich compared to some of the other families on Berk so it didn’t really matter.

They had to have the best of everything in people and things, or something like that. Which usually left only crumbs for the rest of everybody.

You’d heard some of the women by the square complaining as you scoured over their crumbs and dry pickings.

You didn’t mind it. Berk was pretty first-come first-serve, anyways.

Until it came to dragons.

Everyone on Berk stuck to the typical types of dragons whenever they were forced to find a mount, not because they preferred it that way, though it wasn’t something you found to cause any dissent in particular.

“Gut feeling,” You shrugged, going with the easy explanation, “Do you need any help?”

It was difficult to find any type outside of a Dragon Training course, of course, those being a roster of the most common native dragons. The other kinds were a bit harder to stumble across. Any of the ‘exotic’ types of dragon mounts were something to be proud of, and proud of them they were, the few Vikings who had the time and resources to expend.

There were a few squabbles about it but nothing too major. Most Vikings were still a little dragon shy anyhow. The whole argument was kind of silly.

Having a dragon was about more than the type of dragon, anyways.

It didn’t matter much to you, a person without a dragon.

There was a fisherman who was quite proud of his exotic dragon- a Scauldron. He’d picked it up a little bit after the incident with the purple flowers.

It helped a lot with fishing.

“Well… Are you busy?” Hiccup asked, albeit a tad unsurely.

“Not particularly,” You said, staring back at the old fisherman, also a bit unsure.

Adventuring with Hiccup would make it easier to avoid the old fisherman, who, now that you thought about it, was a bit off and who you imagined was very close to blowing his top.

“Really?” Hiccup asked, looking a little guilty, eyes darting back towards the fishermen behind you.

He pointed a shaking hand towards you, spluttering messily as the brown haired Viking guy scrambled for some of the ropes along one of the poles along the back end of the ship, still not letting go of his arm.

“Yeah,” You said, beaming as Hiccup scooted forward, urging Toothless to turn around with his foot, causing the boat to rock a bit and you to back up, adjusting to the dragon as he swung wide.

Hiccup made a sheepish smile and offered you the space behind him on his saddle, though he kept his eyes on the fisherman behind.

You pretended you saw nothing. You thought the scene they were making resembled something out of the world’s blandest comedy show, or an old cartoon.

He paid pennies, anyway.

“Someone should be by with a Scauldron in case you need help,” You called back, “I heard the rainbow big ship was out today.”

“Not tha’ barrel! The other! Can’t you see the difference?” The old fisherman made a rude gesture and shouted as Toothless took the initiative to do a bit more exploring.

He shook free enough to grab something thick, dark and viscous from a wooden tankard to the side and throw it towards Toothless.

Hiccup shifted awkwardly as he responded, “I don't see the difference…?”

You yelped and jumped back and scrambled up on Toothless behind him as the glob landed right by your feet.

Looked like your refreshing day out at sea was over. You could always go fishing another day.

You tossed the fisherman back his coin, holding it between your fingers and flipping it to him with your thumb before he could say anything, shooting off a quick, “I’m sorry!”

He jumped down and grabbed for it, though the brown haired fisherman caught it with some minor exhaustion.

You turned away and lightly nudged Hiccup’s arm, hurting before the old fisherman could do something more crass. Like his bare bottom over the railing. Sure, you may have had to know the sight once, but it was still irritating. And gross.

Hiccup kicked Toothless quickly off and up into the sky. You could feel the wind bursting past your face, much more biting now that you were once again without your coat.

You rotated your shoulder slightly after you slipped into the saddle behind Hiccup, arms sore from all the rowing you did earlier, which was difficult considered your arms were clenched around his waist.

“Fireworm island?” You asked, “Which ones are Fireworms, again?”

“They’re the small orange glowy ones,” Hiccup spoke past the rushing wind, though it didn’t seem like he was particularly rushed, bumping your shoulder with his as he glanced back.

“I don’t think I’ve seen those yet,” You said as you locked your arms around his waist, Toothless moving at rocketing speeds.

“We’re heading back towards Berk?” You asked.

“Yeah. We were just- Well-” Hiccup struggled, “Recouping. Navigating. Splitting ground.”

“Splitting? What’s your-? You know.”

“I’m not- I left too early,” Hiccup said, embarrassedly at nearly a shout, “I was hoping you might know- Ah– But the- I know some of the fishermen used to use Fireworms as bait.”

He cut off then, but you got the gist of it.

“Why don’t we try a different island?” You asked, fighting against the wind as Hiccup and Toothless reoriented them all, nearly flipping over.

You imagined what Fishlegs would say; ‘There’s an island for that!’

It seemed like there was an island for everything. Was there one for Fireworms?

You wondered what Berk was the island for.

You didn’t need to be close friends to know for sure.

It was bare.

You pushed through another set of ferns, following quickly behind Hiccup as the two of you trudged through a thick set of trees.

You really hoped you hadn’t messed up and someone ended up dead, or something.

People would riot. Chase you off for sure.

You heard people talking about moving more into the forests where there were more resources and privacy, the only thing having kept them in the village being the dragons.

You’d have to take refuge.

Another dock would be nice, you thought.

You wondered if the volcano on Dragon island was still active. That would make for a good second island, if the dragons didn’t mind a few human visitors. Roommates. Exile-ees.

You figured they’d probably rather they be left alone, though.

“Would using Gel from another Nightmare work? Or is it like blood transfusions?” You asked as you ducked under another low-hanging branch.

You stepped over the gnarled roots of this tree quickly afterwards, the soles of your boots making an odd wet noise as it hit the damp undergrowth.

The two of you had just hit a pretty soggy spot in the undergrowth and you knew Hiccup was worried it might turn into peat.

You were close to suggesting that you head back and try another direction in the forest.

Said Hiccup looked at you oddly, brows cinched and raised as he tried to repeat your foreign modern words, “Blood transfusions?”

You puzzled over it for a moment, “Blood… exchange? Blood giving?”

“That…” Hiccup cringed, but he had the shadows of his idea face ghosting the corners of his expression. He was, also, probably wondering if it was just as unsanitary as it seemed, as a normally adjusted person should.

“It’s not as gross as it sounds, I promise.”

“Really?”

“I mean, everyone has different blood types, and you- Shouldn’t try it. Please don’t try it,” You said a bit quickly.

He didn’t have the medical equipment, at least not for blood.

It probably wasn’t safe anyways.

You hadn’t talked since before his Dad started asking you questions you didn’t want to think about. You refused to let it get awkward. Still, you hoped to find some Fireworms soon.

Toothless had run off earlier, chasing the likeness of a work into the trees. Hope was nearly lost.

Catching the worms was sort of difficult and the Fireworms had been sparse. You’d been out for what, thirty minutes? An hour?

You winced.

It was like trying to catch frogs with tweezers. How you imagined it, anyways.

You wondered if there were frogs here and if that was something Vikings did. You thought you saw a kid with a frog once. You wondered if Hiccup wanted to go catch frogs, and if he was the type of kid to have tried to do that.

Maybe with friends? You weren’t sure.

He seemed a little solitary before the Red Death, though not by choice or any sort of personality quirk, at least nothing you would clock from the modern day.

You were afraid, though, that his only friend was Gobber which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, in and of itself.

“Toothless!” Hiccup tried then, calling again, cupping his hands around his mouth.

You glanced down at his leg, which you noticed just then had sunk a bit deep into the mud. It was going to get caked later.

“No dice?” You asked, pulling yourself up a step.

“No dice,” Hiccup shook his head. He tried to hide it, but he was looking kind of glum. Which was understandable.

You squinted ahead as the way forward got lighter, blinking placidly into the treeline.

Maybe you wouldn't have to turn back after all.

You kept moving forwards.

Hiccup had a sort of stormy, contemplative expression on his face a for a while, and so you’d given him the space to think.

You weren’t particularly pressed to speak yourself, in a mood that made you just as happy with silence as exercising your vocal cords.

“Spitelout… Snotlout hadn’t said anything but I’m sure he wants him to- …” Hiccup spoke, after a while.

“Kill Hookfang?” You asked.

You likened it -the idea- to euthanasia for older animals or animals that were too sick to function anymore. But you had the inkling that that’s not exactly the type of person Spitelout was.

It was still unreasonable, though. You hadn’t exhausted half your resources yet, you thought. If there was still a chance you’d be able to save Snotlout’s dragon…

You felt sort of bad for Hiccup.

Dragons were his thing, after all. “I should have told the others where I was going,” Hiccup sighed, gesturing with his hands as he stopped suddenly, then letting them fall until they slapped soundlessly against his legs, “I can’t believe I messed up this bad.”

You moved up beside him to see his face, lips pursed into a thin line as he looked exhaustively up into the thin pin-ey canopy above, “It’s not that bad.”

He looked at you guiltily then, though you had the feeling he wasn’t looking at you with guilt any more than you being the cause of it. Did he regret stopping by to pick you up? Coming to another island?

“It’s fine,” You tried, before adding hopefully, comforting yourself a little bit, “We don’t know if it’s a mistake, yet. These things happen, and you never know.”

“My Dad is going to kick me out and I’m going to have to spend every night from now on until I die eating alone.” Hiccup spoke dryly.

“I’ll be here,” You suggested helpfully, “And if you get kicked off I promise I’ll visit with things. So you don’t drop. Like fresh water and probably beads, maybe.”

“Well, thanks, I bet they’ll taste great mixed up with a plate of loneliness and self-loathing,” Hiccup said sarcastically, waving his hands at his sides, before pausing, as if remembering who he was talking to.

You snorted, a little bit surprised.

He’d not spent so much time being any more sarcastic than awkward whenever you were together.

You thought it was a little bit funny and a little bit worrying. If things went wrong it was probably your fault, anyways. For messing with the plot.

Had you really, though? The thought came unbidden. What had you done besides just existing? That was a guiltless action.

Had that been all you had been doing?

You internally shook, brushing thoughts of those things away.

You didn’t want to do any pondering.

“You’d be fine, minus the indigestion, probably. You have a lot of things going for you,” You nodded.

“My sharp intellect and dashing charm,” Hiccup said, keeping his elbows close to his sides and gesturing to himself emphatically in a way that was incredibly sarcastic and slightly gawky.

“Yes,” You said firmly as you nodded besides, your side brushing fully past another fern as you went, “I mean, you’re a good inventor. I can’t name another one on the island- really, I’m sure I heard your Dad talking about it the other day- ‘I could leave that boy alone for a week and he’d have me a city built on a whole other island by the time I got back.’”

You didn’t talk to many people so you mostly kept that bit to yourself.

“Wow, that’s…”

“A bit crazy?” You hummed, lifting your boot and jumping back slightly as you stepped into a particularly wet, boggy patch of grass.

“A lot of pressure,” Hiccup gestured aimlessly with his hands again, the glass beads threaded into the twine around his wrists twinkling slightly as he rotated them.

He seemed kind of crushed, suddenly.

“I’m really not that good at… Prioritizing, I guess. Anything. All of this.”

They were yellow today. Yellow and light green. You hadn’t noticed, too focused on staying atop Toothless in the sky earlier and on the fauna after you’d landed.

You looked down as you stepped up onto a short dry patch, kicking aside a few pebbles with your muddied boot toes and grabbing a hold of a thin branch, sticking up out of a log as you pulled yourself over.

“I hope he didn’t mean it literally,” You said, shrugging. But then you immediately felt guilty for it, glancing up from your feet back to Hiccup, “It’s- I mean, things happen-And- You don’t have to be good at it. I mean, you’re doing it. Who else is going to?”

You stopped for a moment and took that time to let out a large exhale.

You felt like you fumbled the conversation before you even moved your mouth again.

“Right,” Hiccup looked at you unsurely before peering around the underbrush, “I guess. But everyone expects me to. I shouldn’t be saying this, but I don’t- …know how.”

Hiccup grimaced, looking like he had a heavy set of weights on his shoulders. Which, he might’ve.

You hadn’t had any in a while besides the need for food and board.

It made you wonder. Did you expect anything from Hiccup?

“Can you…? Gods, do you even know what I’m talking about?” Hiccup continued, burying his face in his hands, throwing his head up exaggeratedly as he rubbed his face, one hand lingering longer than the other.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he did, “I didn’t mean-...”

He sighed heavily, defeated.

You looked at him for a moment, halted.

You ignored how your feet were sore and your back was starting to hurt from spending the whole day on your feet. This was no place to sit and rest, however, not even for a minute. You wouldn’t stop for more than a minute.

Unless you wanted to be wet, that was. And froggy.

Way back on Berk, you were expected to take on responsibility a lot earlier than you were expected to in modern times so you guessed, in a way, you got it. And you wanted to tell him so.

You felt kind of odd about it all.

Any direction you had you’d surely misplaced. Any path you knew was probably derailed- even this conversation you were sure wasn’t supposed to have happened.

“I kind of know?” You said, “I get it, I mean. I haven’t been here for everything, but, you know, I’ve seen a lot. I don’t really have any good advice for you, though.”

You watched Hiccup slump slightly, grimacing as you spoke, feeling as if you’d failed some sort of test.

Who were you to ask for anything, really?

There was one thing you could give him, though. But similar to your own sleeves and patchy boots, which you liked a lot, you weren’t sure if it would count for much.

“-And I’m sorry,” You said, before shrugging, not giving Hiccup a moment to think before you spoke again, “But I don’t expect anything you don’t want to give. Maybe, it would be hypocritical of me to ask for anything more than you are- I mean, I’m a delivery girl. I guess you know all that already, though, right? That you’re nice all on your own?”

You ended in a question, watching Hiccup as he watched you, searching for any more reaction. His reaction. Had you missed the mark? Was there even a mark to miss?

You hoped not.

“Am I?” Hiccup asked, looking at you incredulously.

He gave you a wide-eyed look, some emotion you couldn’t name plastered all across his face.

You weren’t exactly an authority on the subject. You had been here, in the Archipelago, for a long while, but there were still many, many things you weren’t privy to.

“I think you are?” You took the lead by a few feet, urging Hiccup to subconsciously follow you forwards, hurrying the both of you up, “I don’t know what-I mean… Are you? I can’t really say. I’m not- the judge of- I think, honestly, the only one who can say what you are is- well. You? And you’d know better than me what you can handle. I don’t mind it, whatever it is you can or can’t do, I guess.”

You gestured back towards him as you glanced and turned away without actually looking, face heating up with an extra amount of embarrassment.

You didn’t want to consider the idea that maybe you’d messed up, so you opted to ignore all of it. The idea that the whole conversation had happened in the first place.

Really, he was the main character. Why wouldn’t he know?

“I- ah, ph-what? I mean… Yeah?” Hiccup sputtered, following you as you through the forest around you, trying not to flinch as the water seeped through the bottom of your boots.

You shrug-nodded awkwardly, still staring ahead.

Thankfully, the damp earth began to grow firmer and the ferns grew thicker as you spoke until just by what you assumed to be the end of the treeline, where the sun shone brightest.

You pointed ahead, “I think there’s an opening up there.”

As you got closer, hurriedly trudging along though not too fast for Hiccup to keep up, you felt the beginnings and wisps of sea in the air.

You felt the beginnings of a rumble in your stomach as your anticipation grew.

So you had a little bit of an ulterior motive too, for rushing the two of you along. You were a little bit hungry, and you also had had no breakfast at all. A break would do Hiccup well too, you were sure.

You kept moving, the two of you in silence, until, finally, stepping past a particularly large front, framed by light that was almost glaring, considerably brighter than the kind you’d been subjected to in the smoggy underbrush-

The two of you had just broken out of the forest into a clear cliffside.

It was probably not too far away from where you’d initially landed. Geometric rock columns lined the cliffs’ edge, making the ground look almost like tiles, though some bits were slightly elevated over others.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“Look, how about we take a break? I have to… I have to figure out how we’re going to get back,” Hiccup looked back, in a way you imagined was exhaustive, into the trees, most likely thinking of Toothless. Yeah, that was a problem.

You were glad he said it first.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #hiccup x reader #httyd imagine #toothless #fem reader #female reader

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