Go Get Him

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 10 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—fingering, face riding, oral (female receiving), submissive!Daryl, virgin!Daryl, grinding, edging, overstimulation, unprotected sex, swearing ❧ Word Count: 12.5k (oh they keep getting longer, don't they?)

❧ Requested by anonymous (this request)

❧ Summary: You've known Daryl for a long time, and you've flirted with him for a long time, too. Today's the day you finally take things to the next level and show him just how much you want him.

❧ A/N: Sub!Daryl, anyone?! God, I love shy, nervous, sweet baby Daryl. This version of Daryl is a little different from anything I've written so far, since I usually write Daryl as being a little more dominant/experienced than he is here, but I really like writing submissive/virgin Daryl, too!

“God, I want to do sinful things to that man.”

Rosita scoffed at your sudden declaration, turning her head to follow your gaze, which was glued onto the man in question as shaggy brown hair hung over his face, his greasy hands tinkering with the mechanics of his motorcycle. You hadn’t the first idea about motorcycles, but for him? You’d read every manual you could get your hands on just to show him how much you wanted him. Everyone already knew, though, except him.

“Do you think he likes to be on top or on the bottom?” you asked, your eyes not leaving his body as you undressed him with your mind. You took a casual sip of the homemade horchata Rosita had served you. “I’d love to hear his moans.”

“You’re such a whore,” laughed Rosita. “And you tease him, you know.”

“I know,” you replied with a devious smirk. “He likes it, he’s just too shy to say anything. I told you, I caught him staring at my tits.”

“That’s because you were bending over, and you purposely had on a low-cut dress, dumbass.”

You gently kicked her shin under the dining room table. “That’s not the point. He looked.”

She shook her head. “How long have you been flirting with him, anyway?”

You shrugged, smiling to yourself as you swirled the cinnamon stick in languid circles around the glass of that sweet rice drink. “Oh, six, seven years maybe? After things settled down with the Saviors.”

For most of that time, Daryl had been living on his own, out in the woods searching for Rick’s remains. Still, when he came to town every once in a while, it was your opportunity to engage him in conversation, to see how much you could pry open that stubborn shell and get him to smile just a little at your cheesy quips.

You learned a lot about him just from that, from the days spent hovering over his shoulder as you watched him gut a squirrel or ready his crossbow.

Maybe you had never really gotten anywhere with your occasionally rather obvious flirting, but you had a friend in Daryl. He’d dropped his guard as much as he could, and after a while of purposely brushing up against him, or “accidentally” touching his hand, he seemed to not stiffen at your touch as much as he once had, and the more you learned about him, the more you liked him, and the more attractive, nearly irresistible, he became to you.

When he finally returned to the fold a year ago, around the time the Whisperers began to cause problems, you didn’t hesitate to make him feel comfortable, to use your bubbly, extroverted personality to ease his mind when his introverted, cerebral psyche became too much for him to handle.

So it was more than just flirting or lustful teasing—you really did care for him, and something told you that he cared for you, too, but his shyness kept him from acting on his feelings.

Maybe Rosita was right. Maybe now was the time to really let Daryl know exactly how you felt. No teasing, no flirting, just the truth.

Well, you probably couldn’t really help yourself. You had to flirt with him, too.

“You’re just teasing yourself at this point, mami. You want him so go get him.”

It was tempting, more now than ever.

He was right there, not about to go on another mission, not about to come up with a stuttering excuse for him to do something “important” instead of spending the night with you, as you’d occasionally joke about to his face.

Still, he never outright rejected you. If he had, you’d have stopped in your tracks, not wanting to harass him, but he toyed with you in his own way, too. It was more subtle than your liking, and perhaps even accidental at times, but it was sweet, his own brand of flirting that was clumsy and unrefined, as if he were holding something back and stepping on eggshells. You surmised he was terrified of rejection himself, even though it was pretty clear that you wanted him.

“For real this time?” you asked. “I mean, should I go all out?”

“Depends,” said Rosita, leaning back in her squeaky wooden chair and folding her hands behind her head. “What do you mean by ‘all out’?”

“Hm…” You leaned forward, folding your arm on the table to lean your chin upon your hand as you watched Daryl wipe his hands of that filthy grease. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead to remove the accumulated sweat, but he only smeared it, creating an adorable streak of black. “Well, I have to get him alone. I don’t want to embarrass him in front of everyone… But I want to touch him. Just a little more than usual… Maybe I’ll wear that low-cut dress again.”

“No panties,” suggested Rosita. “That’ll get him riled up, I bet.”

“Oh, you’re a genius! But how am I gonna get him alone? He’s always busy.”

“He’s not busy right now,” replied Rosita with a smirk. “He’s just working on that stupid bike like he always is. Why don’t you go get that dress on and let your body do the talking?”

Not ten minutes later, you came sauntering across the street (sans panties), adorned in that contradiction of a dress.

It was at once seductive and innocent, with the motif of pale yellow buttercups blooming across a cream fabric, high empire waist and low-cut v neck wrapped bodice perfectly accentuating your chest, which Daryl seemed to like. The material was soft to the touch, a crinkled polyester with a bias cut that hugged your curves and reached your knees.

You didn’t know what to do with your hair, besides pinning it in a loose bun that lifted it from your hot neck while wispy strands framed your face and blew gently with the late spring breeze.

Strategically, you wore one of the pairs of earrings he’d brought back for you on one of his visits to Alexandria a few years ago. He had a habit of doing that, collecting trinkets and jewelry that made him think of you. The ones you had on now were your favorite—dangling blush pink jewels in a cluster that trickled down to a singular diamond in the shape of a heart. You hoped he’d notice that you were wearing them, but something told you he would. He always noticed things like that, even if he didn’t tell you. You could almost read him like a book at this point.

“Hi there, handyman.”

His hooded blue eyes peered over the seat of his bike to acknowledge you. Though he’d felt your presence getting closer, and even caught a sweet whiff of that sultry perfume you always wore, he’d tried not to let himself get distracted again, even if he was rather fond of being distracted by you.

“Hey,” he replied, that one syllable word already having an effect on you. His voice was at once smooth and silken as rich maple syrup, and yet with a flavor more like salted caramel. In any case, he sounded so sweet, sweet enough to rot your teeth. “Need somethin’?”

“You,” you said bluntly. As always, he shared with you that look, an initial look of serious consideration, peppered with sexual tension, and seasoned with a just pinch of disbelief. Then, as always, he scoffed.

“Pfft.” He shook his head, returning his focused gaze to his work, though you noticed he looked a little less focused than before. “Yeah, sure. What’s up, buttercup?”

He nudged his head to your body, correctly identifying the full yellow flowers painted on the fabric of your dress. He was the kind of man to know flowers and plants, to recognize them easily. Years of surviving in the wilderness would do that to you, but he was also observant, obsessed with details, especially yours.

“You like it?” you asked, sliding your hands down your own curves.

Raising his eyes to look at you once again, he bit his lip in thought, trying to look at you without imagining what you looked like underneath the dress in question.

“Mhm,” he hummed. “Seen it before. Yellow suits ya.”

“Thanks… So, what are you working on?”

You planted yourself next to him, folding your arms as you watched him spin some kind of wrench around to tighten one of the bolts.

He dusted his knees as he stood to his feet, then removed his black rag from its place on the seat to wipe his hands once again.

“Jus’ maintenance, makin’ sure everything’s dialed in, tuned up, ready to go. Ain’t got much else to do.”

“Well,” you sighed, “now I’m here. That’s something else to do.” You side-stepped closer, brushing your shoulder against his. He didn’t seem to flinch at that, so your other hand crossed over to lightly trace up and down his arm, clothed in a long sleeve black button-up shirt.

He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say for a moment as your hand playfully tickled his sleeve. He’d only wished he’d been wearing a sleeveless shirt that day, just to feel your fingers on his bare flesh.

His feelings for you consumed him on a day-to-day basis, and though he knew you flirted with him, as you were doing now, he could never tell if you were serious, or if this was how you were with every man. Granted, most of your other friends were women, so he couldn’t really know for sure. All he knew was that many nights he’d woken up from dreams about you in a cold sweat, soaked in his own arousal, and with a tent pitched under his sheets.

He knew he loved you, he always did. It took him a while to admit it to himself, how much he cared for you, but old habits die hard, and he had a habit of suppressing his emotions, especially the kind that could get him hurt. Besides, why would you want to be with a guy like him, anyway? When he wasn’t out killing walkers or dealing with Whisperers, he was in his basement whittling arrows, or talking a little too much to his dog. He was shy, quiet, standoffish, even. Surely someone so gregarious and sociable as you would want nothing to do with him, right? Well, that’s where you confused him, in the best way possible.

Still, you brought something out in him, and whenever he was with you, he felt like he could let his guard down just enough to keep up with your quips, your teasing flirts, your contagious giggles. Being around you made him feel like a teenager again. Or, at least, how most people were as teenagers.

Daryl never had feelings like this before, not once. Sexual feelings hadn’t been apart of his life one bit until he realized he loved you. When people spoke of their relationships, of their sex lives, his brain went blank. They might as well have been speaking another language, and he might as well have been deaf.

All he knew of sex was how you made him feel, and when you touched him like you did, like you’d done so many times before, he found himself somewhere between terrified and euphoric.

“Pfft,” he scoffed with a nervous smirk, elbowing you playfully. “Ain’t ya got anythin’ better to do than talkin’ to an old man?”

You rolled your eyes, then looked around as you turned dramatically. “Gee, I don’t see any old men around here. All I see is a very handsome, sweet, strong—” You cut yourself off, noticing the blush blossoming on his cheeks. “Sorry,” you giggled. “So, you’re not busy right now, are you?”

Your voice was sultry and deep, deeper and more rich than usual. Even when you flirted with him more intensely, he’d never heard such a sweet sound.

His feet shuffled as he scratched his neck, his shoulder-length hair draped over his wrist. You’d always wanted desperately to get your own hands tangled up in that hair of his.

“Uh, guess not,” he said. “Why?”

Shit, you thought. I haven’t thought this far.

“Well, um…” You rocked your hips back and forth as you thought, unintentionally drawing his eyes to your midsection, a place on your body he’d thought about more than he’d care to admit.

An idea occurred to you then—Daryl was good with his hands, and surely he’d be able to help out around your house. Maybe he was good at plumbing. You could make up an excuse for him to come to your house, to “fix” something…

“My bathtub,” you said abruptly. “I—I mean, it’s all… clogged up. The water—it pools around my feet when I’m showering. I was wondering if you knew anything about plumbing? Maybe you could… snake my drain?”

Perfect, a nice sexual innuendo.

His eyes seemed to widen for a moment as he processed your words, and the bite in your lip and the sway of your hips didn’t go unnoticed. Still, however, he couldn’t comprehend this being anything other than a friendly interaction. At least, he didn’t want to assume you meant anything else.

“I, uh…” He cleared his throat and scratched his head, avoiding eye contact as much as he could. If he looked into those intense, beautiful eyes of yours now, he was sure he’d get down on his knees and worship at your feet. “Well, what’s in it for me?”

You cracked a smile and a raised eyebrow at that. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if his light flirting was intentional, or just a byproduct of his cluelessness. Either way, it was adorable.

“Hm, maybe a kiss on the cheek?” you teased. “Or anywhere else you want a kiss…”

He scoffed and shook his head, stepping backwards and nearly tripping over his foot until he caught himself, eliciting an amused smirk from your lips. There was nothing more adorable than how he reacted to your flirting, and how nervous he could get.

“What about some peach pie?” he rasped, his voice seeming to break a little.

Oh, your famous peach pie. The only other thing he dreamed about besides you was your pie, made with fresh, plump peaches plucked from the tree outside your house. You’d first made it for him as a thank you for the first necklace he brought back for you, and from that point on, he always asked you for more.

“Peach pie, huh? Well, you know what, I just happen to already have a slice of peach pie with your name on it.”

That was a lie. So was the drain. You hated lying to him, but you figured it was for a good cause, and you hoped he’d appreciate what you had in mind once you got him alone in your house. Peach pie or not, at least you managed to employ the use of yet another sexual euphemism to hint at your intentions.

“Come on,” you said, tugging lightly on his hand. He didn’t jerk it away, he never did. His hand interlaced with yours felt too much like two matching puzzle pieces finally fitting together for him to pull away. He felt safe cradled in your touch, secure. As nervous as he could be around you, it was simply because he was terrified of saying the wrong thing, of embarrassing himself in front of you, even if he knew you could never be embarrassed of him.

“You’ve been spending too much time with that bike,” you said. “I’m starting to get jealous.”

He scoffed, feeling your hand tighten around his the closer you got to your house. He blushed as a few passersby eyed the two of you, their eyebrows raising in curiosity at the display. Surely they’d gossip about it behind his back, saying he was screwing you. No matter how much he sort of liked the idea of everyone thinking you were his, he tugged his hand from your grasp, wiping the sweat that had accumulated from his anxiety onto his jeans.

“That ole bike ain’t got nothin’ on you, buttercup,” he said, nearly tripping up the steps to your townhouse as you began fiddling with your keys to unlock the front door. “So, you got the stuff to snake the drain?”

You swallowed hard as you turned the key in the lock. “Mhm,” you lied, but you were so close to getting him inside where you could make your first serious attempt to seduce him. If you needed to lie once more to get him inside, you would. Besides, they were only little white lies. “Got everything you need in the house. I’m just not very good with that kind of stuff… Maybe I need a man around the house, one that’s good with his hands.”

Your voice had a suggestive lilt to it, and Daryl couldn’t help but imagine how nice it would be to be that man, to use those deft hands of his to pleasure you and touch you wherever you wanted him to. Maybe you imagined some man other than him, though, and the thought of any other man inside your house, doing his job, infuriated him slightly.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, stepping over the threshold as you held the door for him. “Don’t need a man to fix shit. I can show you how.”

“But then who’s gonna make you peach pie while you snake my drain, huh?”

You watched him remove his muddy boots, as was policy in your house so as not to track dirt through the place, but all you could think of was how you were one step closer to getting the man’s clothes off.

“Whatever you say… So where do you keep the drain snake?”

Shit.

Closing the door, you turned to face him, your eyes fluttering sweetly as you prepared to tell him that it was all just a ploy to get him in your house. Oh, but his face was so sweet in all its innocence, his eyes genuine as they glimmered in desire to help you. He was such a good man, always was. That made him immensely more attractive to you. He was gorgeous, too, with that beautiful bone structure and those strong, broad shoulders of his, but none of it meant anything to you if he wasn’t also a good person, and Daryl was perhaps the best person you’d ever met.

Not once had he taken advantage of you and your kindness towards him, even if perhaps you wished he’d take advantage of it. You were long past the point of wondering whether or not you loved him. You knew you loved him, that you’d let him do just about anything he wanted to do to you. Now you had him alone, you could make that abundantly clear to him.

“Why don’t we sit down for a bit?” you asked. “You want some water? I’ll get you a glass of water. Sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.”

He already knew he couldn’t be alone in private with you for long without feeling a near irresistible urge, an urge he was scared to realize. Today was worse than usual—you were in that dress again. You were wearing those earrings he’d gotten for you, and it was no accident that their diamonds were in the shape of a heart. It was his subtle way of showing his love for you, but the words just never materialized—vapor dissipating into thin air.

Most of all, you were sweet, delicate with each flourish of your hand as you lovingly poured him a glass of water in the kitchen across from the living room. Even such a simple gesture from you seemed so genuine and kind. No, no, he thought. She’s like this with everyone. She must be.

“Here you go,” you said with a smile, leaning down to hand him his glass. He eyed the thin lemon wedge perched on the side of the glass, and the slices of fresh cucumber floating in the clear liquid.

“Fancy water,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

“Mm, yes I did, Daryl.” You sat closer to him than usual, and you always sat close to him, much closer to him than anyone else sat. “You deserve nice things.”

The feeling of your hand massaging his shoulder did not escape him. In fact, he nearly choked on his water when you squeezed his muscular frame, trying to knead out the knots by his neck.

Still, he wasn’t uncomfortable, just nervous, and slightly confused by your gesture. It was more than you’d ever done before, but it felt good. Oh, did it feel good. Somehow, it gave him just a little spark of confidence, just enough to turn his thoughts into words: “Are you a nice thing?” he asked, surprising himself with the flirtatious lilt of his voice.

Your soft giggle drove him wild, its cadence somewhere between girlish innocence and erotic amusement.

“Well, that depends on who you ask… Do you think I’m a nice thing?”

His shyness washed over him again, causing him to nod shakily as he cleared his throat, his eyes drifting down to look at the translucent seeds of the cucumbers floating in his water.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered.

“Well, then I guess you deserve me…”

His heart fluttered along with every bat of your eyelashes, and with every whiff of that intoxicating perfume of yours, he knew he was done for, in one way or another. He wasn’t going to get out of this alive.

You saw him shift his shoulders as he looked back up at you, his eyes darting around your face in panicked circles. You offered him a small smile, laced with equal parts adoration and flirtation. In a flash, he shifted his eyes downward again, causing you to lean forward and tilt your head at the sudden return of his shyness. Still, you could tell that the man who could idly flirt back with you was in there, he was just nervous, maybe a little scared.

“Daryl,” you giggled under your breath. “All this time I’ve been flirting with you, you know that, right?”

He scoffed, the dismissive sound of which worried you for a moment. Maybe he never really had been subtly returning your flirtations, maybe he was just entertaining you. If so, you were sure that you, too, would soon be overcome with shyness and embarrassment.

It didn’t matter, though, because if you didn’t do something to make it extremely clear what you wanted, you were sure you’d be running around in circles with this man for the rest of your lives. You had to make a move, a bold one. Daryl seemed to respond better to actions than words, as you were almost sure if you straight up said, “I love you,” he still wouldn’t know what to say.

Go get him, you heard Rosita’s voice echo inside your head.

You’d kissed his cheeks before, and every time you had, he apparently must’ve seen that as a friendly gesture, so you were determined not to do that again.

With your hand delicately, yet firmly, grasping his chin, you pulled him closer, eyeing him steadily to silently keep his attention on you. “Tell me if you don’t want this,” you whispered, and slowly closed the gap, pressing your lips lightly against his.

His body and brain went numb, practically dead to the world. He couldn’t even comprehend what was happening, even if it was technically something he’d imagined many times before. Your lips barely touched his, but they were so soft, so warm and pillowy. Better than any pillow he’d ever had in his life. He couldn’t escape the feeling of wanting more, of wanting to wrap his arms around you and kiss you the way you deserved, but he couldn’t. He didn’t know the first thing about kissing, or pleasing a woman, as far as he was concerned. He knew nothing, except from silly childhood “girlfriends” he pecked lips with, and even that was reluctant. For a long time he wondered if he could love anyone, have feelings, sexual or otherwise, for anyone. You changed everything. He touched himself for the first time in several years the day he met you. He didn’t know it then, but you had awakened that in him.

You didn’t move for a while, trying to gauge his feelings, but it was hard to tell, as he sat frozen, eyes wide and lips trembling against yours. “Daryl,” you sighed, pulling away to make sure he wanted this. “I need you to communicate with me… Do you want to kiss me?”

Hell of a lot more than that, he thought.

“Yeah,” he mumbled softly. “Jus’… Ain’t a very good kisser, that’s all.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled, encouraging him to smile just a little too, though his was much more crooked, almost boyish in his innocence.

He shivered a little when your arms wrapped around his neck, your glass of water having been surrendered to the coffee table at some point. He watched you fold your legs under your body, and a glimmer in your eye hinted at mischief as you remembered you weren’t wearing any panties. You could feel the back of your shins grazing your bare lower lips as they peeked out between your thighs, unbeknownst to the painfully bashful man before you. It invoked sinful thoughts within you, as you wondered just what it would feel like for his large, strong hand to slip under your dress and feel your most intimate area.

“Well, that wasn’t a real kiss,” you said. “Can I give you a real one?”

He swallowed hard, eyes trailing down to your lips as you licked them, leaving behind a glossy sheen, like dew on the pink petals of a peony. There wasn’t any doubt in his mind that he wanted you, even if he couldn’t quite believe you wanted him. It still seemed so surreal, like some kind of fever dream made too vivid from the cold sweat drenching his aching body in his sleep. Every cell was on fire, every square inch of skin begged to be touched by you. His lips seemed to sting with need as he wanted nothing more than to feel your mouth on his.

“Yeah,” was all he could muster, but it was enough to indicate that he wanted more, even if he was too shy to say something more eloquent. He never really had a way with words, but at least you did.

Your lips parted before meeting his, eager to show him exactly what kind of kiss you had in mind. Your arms coiled tighter around his neck to bring him closer, until the tips of your noses met. He always had such a cute nose—a short, slightly sloped button with a soft, fleshy tip. Just being this close to him, so close to meeting his lips with yours, was enough to elicit a giggle under your breath, one that alerted his attention to yours eyes instead of your lips.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asked, his own voice beginning to crack with a few chortles.

“Your nose is so cute,” you laughed. His eyes followed yours as they darted all over his face, admiring every sunspot and freckle and blemish and crease and wrinkle and—Well, you couldn’t stop yourself. He was so beautiful to you. Your thumb brushed against his jaw as his own hand moved cautiously to rest on your knee, though not without nearly immediately pulling it away.

“You can touch me,” you whispered against his lips. “Please touch me.”

Your more confident hand took a hold of his to rest it once again on your knee. If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn you felt him squeeze it, but maybe it was just a nervous reaction.

The featherlight feeling of your lips slotting around his was deeper than before, with each crease melding perfectly into one another. It was slow for you, slower than tectonic plates, but you knew an earthquake was well on the way, as you couldn’t stand to be interlocked with him without shaking the fault lines. You needed to move, to go deeper, to plunge your tongue between his trembling lips.

First, you got a tighter grip on him, your hands pulling him closer by his shoulders until he simply had to part his lips for you. Hot breath seeped in through the cracks, alerting your tongue to the breach. With almost a mind of its own, it darted teasingly into his mouth as your lips massaged his.

Soon his hand gripped tight to only the crinkled polyester fabric of your dress his fist balled up and curling around the material as he concentrated hard on savoring the moment, not overthinking. Even in your embrace, he wondered if you knew what you were doing, if you were only kissing him out of some kind of pity. Maybe you would regret this. Surely, you’d regret this. Well, that’s what he thought, but you were too busy trying to rouse his tongue with yours.

His kiss was awkward, and a bit stiff, even if it was quite obvious he was trying to match the fluid, expert movements of your intoxicating mouth. His tongue couldn’t quite keep up with yours, and his lips only moved to gasp for air, or to try taking the lead when he seemed not to know exactly what to do.

At least your hand in his hair seemed to rile him up, his deep grunt of appreciation reverberating in your mouth as your fingers weaved through those messy brown locks like yarn. It sent a jolt through him, turning him briefly into a live wire as he moved his head in sloppy, wild motions, trying to get his lips to loosen and match your movements, though he really just hit your nose with his, back and forth, until you were giggling into his mouth.

“Whoa, slow down there, stud,” you teased, your lips moving to his cheek to kiss him there, all while your hand tucked under his hair to stroke his neck. It only made the hairs on it rise even more, and something else began to rise in his pants, too. “As much as I love your nose, I think it’s getting in the way.”

He swallowed hard, suddenly turning red at the realization that he’d never kissed anyone before. Nearly fifty years old, he thought, and never kissed a woman before… Yeah, real stud.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I ain’t, uh… I ain’t done that in a long time.” A long time as in never.

“Me neither,” you said. “I liked it… Did you like it?”

With your hand cupping his cheek again, and your lips pressing lightly against the other, he couldn’t dream of any alternative universe in which he didn’t like that kiss. That was everything he’d wanted for almost seven years. Of course, he wanted so much more, but that kiss? That was the start of it all, the foundation for a whirlwind he was hoping to get swept up in.

“I loved it,” he said, a little more enthusiasticly than he’d hoped. He wanted desperately to play it cool, to act like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was. Oh, it was everything to him. If he could stay this close to you for the rest of his life, he’d do it in a heartbeat. “You, uh… always wanted to do that?”

Oh, you sweet, silly man, you thought. Getting lost in those deep, grey-blue eyes of his was the best part of looking at him, so that’s what you did, shaking your head as you wondered if he knew just how much of an effect he had on you. Even from just once sloppy, haphazard kiss, you were getting those familiar tingles in your core, the ones that told you there was something particularly arousing in your midst.

“I thought that was obvious. I think about you all the time, Daryl… I want to kiss you all the time. I love being with you.”

Even he couldn’t comprehend how long he’d wanted to hear you say that. He couldn’t stay silent, even if he just wanted to bask in the afterglow of your sweet words, the ones that tickled his ears and caused a stupidly wide smile to split his face in half. You’d never seen him smile that wide before. In fact, you’d seen it only in your imagination, but real life blew that hazy daydream out of the water.

“I, uh… I love bein’ with you, too. I wanna kiss you, too. All the time.”

A swell of short-lived pride filled his chest, but it deflated quickly as he remembered how inexperienced he was, how he surely couldn’t please you the way you wanted, and judging by the way your hand was guiding his back to your leg, you wanted him to please you.

The fabric of your dress crept up your bare thigh as you gently guided his hand, which had seemed to almost be numb as he let you take it where you wanted.

His eyes couldn’t help but look down, watching as the skirt of your dress slowly lifted with each inch his hand moved with yours. You stopped before his hand lifted your dress to reveal your nakedness, but you did lean forward to whisper in his ear, “I’m not wearing any panties.”

How you had always wanted to say that to a man. In the movies, that always seemed to rile them up, so you were sure it would get him flustered, too. Well, you hoped, anyway.

Your chest pressed tight up against his, and you could just feel his heart beating so fast and strong, and so much warmth emanating from him. It felt like getting too close to a fireplace, with that overwhelming heat igniting your cheeks. It was a good feeling, though, a comforting hearth that felt like home. Nothing could possibly be more attractive.

“Maybe it’s a good thing, though,” your voice spoke huskily into his ear. “Whenever I’m around you, my underwear always ends up getting soaked. Better to just get rid of them, huh?”

He had no idea when you maneuvered yourself to sit atop his lap, legs straddling his waist and your bare core rubbing up against his jeans, but it became clear to him when your next kiss awoke him from whatever trance you’d put him in.

As your tongue desperately wriggled into his mouth again, begging for his sloppy kiss, he groaned against your mouth and grasped your waist with his hands, pulling your lips away with a small whimper from you.

Shit, you thought. He doesn’t want this… He doesn’t want me. I’m a dumbass.

“Daryl,” you said, slightly panicking as you feared you and your forwardness had blown any chance you had with him, “I… I’m sorry. I thought—”

“It’s not you,” he said. “It’s, uh…”

“Oh, I’ve heard that one before,” you sighed. “It’s not you, it’s me, right?”

Shit, he thought. I’m a dumbass.

“Nah. I mean, uh… Yeah, it’s me.”

“You don’t want this?”

His hands tightened around your waist in a slight panic, as if terrified you’d get up and leave without hearing his explanation. Well, maybe it would have been better if you didn’t hear his explanation: he was a virgin.

He’d just never met anyone he felt this way about, and sex had never been a priority. He wasn’t completely unaware, though. He knew what sex was, he’d seen porn before, mostly Merle’s overdue video tapes he rented from the local adult film shop back in Georgia, but that wasn’t real sex, of course. Even he knew that. I’m

“N-no,” he said, and immediately shook his head to contradict himself. “Shit, I mean, yes. I want this. I want… I want you.”

Your eyes turned soft as your lip quivered into a sweet, relieved smile. He let out his own low sigh of relief as your hand raised to cup his cheek. It never failed to enchant him how soft your hands were. “I want you, too… So what’s wrong?”

If there was one thing he admired about you, though he loved just about everything, it was your straightforward nature, your tendency to lay your cards out in front of him and wear your heart on your sleeve for the whole world to see. Now that he knew you wanted him, he wondered why you hadn’t told him earlier, but maybe you liked teasing him. Evil woman, he thought. She knows what she does to me.

Never before had the word evil been used as a compliment, until now. He liked how evil you were, if being evil was teasing him for seven years to the point he’d probably turn into a puddle of goo if you so much as grazed his lower abdomen. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a result of your teasing, or just how inexperienced he was.

“I just, uh… I haven’t done it in a real long time.”

Don’t lie, dumbass. You ain’t never done it.

“Oh, Daryl,” you laughed, “I haven’t done it in a long time either. I think it’ll feel even better, don’t you?”

As your confidence began to return to you, you found yourself tracing your fingertip along the collar of his shirt, and your eyes began to descend down his neck, the muscles in which seemed about ready to burst through the surface of his skin as he strained himself not to seem too desperate. He could practically feel the blood rushing to his head when your fingers parted the lowest point of his collar, making their way to his top button. Sparse hairs of light caramel color dotted his chest, which became more and more exposed to you as your fingers snapped together to undo that first button.

Your tongue wetted your lips as if on its own accord, your mouth becoming dry with each heavy breath you took. All the willpower in the world couldn’t stop you from impatiently attacking each plastic circle down the front of his shirt, ripping the fabric apart until his chest was bare, though his shirt still clung to his shoulders.

A slight trance took him over as he became almost immobilized, eyes wide and mouth agape as he watched your hands fight each other to figure out how to undo his belt.

“Mm, I’ve wanted this for so long,” you said, each word pouring out in an increasingly desperate whimper. “Kiss me.” You couldn’t even wait for him to shake himself out of that trance. Instead, you just crashed those trembling lips onto his, hands still fumbling to get that belt out from the loops.

Low, sultry groans emitted from your mouth and reverberated inside his. Without much other thought in his paralyzed brain, he grasped at your waist and squeezed you until you let out a breathy whimper of his name.

“Fuck me,” you sighed against his cheek, and soon you found yourself buried in the tresses of his hair, your lips pursed and peppering his scalp with kisses as your free hand clumsily searched for the button to his jeans. For a moment you gave up, lowering your hand to find the bulge in his jeans, growing and becoming more prominent with each movement of your body, somehow shivering despite the best coursing through you like a lava flow. “I’ve waited so long for you… handyman.”

That little moniker reminded him, sending him flinching a little in your grasp as he awoke from his brief immobilization. You only held onto him tighter, gripping his thigh with one hand and his shoulder with the other. “There ain’t nothin’ wrong with your shower drain, is there?”

Your lips curled into a mischievous smirk. He’d finally caught on, it seemed. “No, but I still need your… expertise.”

Expertise, he thought, all the while trying to match your smirk, despite his inner state of panic. I got no damn expertise, woman.

He nearly opened his mouth to say something, to finally admit his lack of experience to you, but the feeling of your hand gripping his, leading it swiftly underneath the skirt of your dress, rendered him speechless.

A pink rosy haze swelled around him, clouding his vision until all he could see was your face, your body, your eyes closed and your lips spread apart as his palm tickled you in the place where you hadn’t felt a foreign touch in so long. You’d always been waiting for Daryl, hoping he’d come to you first. You’d turned other men in Alexandria down before, waiting for the burly yet inordinately quiet archer to finally kneel down at your feet and admit to you his feelings that you knew deep down he shared for you.

The touch of a man’s hand had at least been known to you, but for Daryl, he’d never felt this before. The sparse carpet of short, slightly curled hairs cushioned his thumb, while the other fingers clumsily spread apart your lips, slightly wetted by your arousal. When his mind caught up with his actions, he realized you were telling the truth—you weren’t wearing any panties. As he thought back to earlier, you standing so close to him, petting his arm and flashing those sultry bedroom eyes his way, he couldn’t help but imagine a droplet or two trickling down your thigh, uninhibited by the presence of underwear.

“I love your hands on me,” you sighed under your breath, barely audible for him to hear, as if you didn’t even need him to hear, you just needed those words to linger in the air for a moment, so it was known by even the tiniest speck of dust in that room that you loved this feeling. “Daryl… I need you.”

It wasn’t even just a want anymore, not a flight of fancy or anything that could ever evaporate from your mind. It was an intensity for a man you’d never felt before, and if you didn’t have him soon, you were sure you’d go mad.

“I—I need ya, too,” he stuttered mindlessly, his fingers wiggling in sloppy movements as he blindly felt around below your dress, that strange feeling of touching something he’d never touched before. It was so new, so exciting. Every inch of his body grew tense and taught, pulled tighter than a tourniquet with each stroke of his fingers against your folds. Still, he had no idea what he was doing, and that uncertainty got the better of him. “I gotta tell ya somethin’.”

You hummed a sweet, “Hm?” through your smiling lips. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? he thought to himself. Shit, this is really happening. If this was what it was like to be loved, he had a feeling it would become a guilty pleasure for him. That sound of your angelic voice calling him something so sacred was so surreal, and so very sweet.

He felt your hand tighten around his, guiding him to keep his palm pressed against you.

“I ain’t ever…”

His voice trailed off as you leaned forward to press your lips against the center of his chest, where the most tempting crop of short, sparse chest hairs dotted his broad frame. Spreading your lips, you licked languid, sloppy circles over his skin, taking in the feeling of those hairs dancing with your tongue.

Desperately keeping his hand under your dress, you manipulated his pliable fingers to enter you slowly, causing his breath to hitch in shock at the feeling.

“(Y/N),” he said. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when that warm, silky embrace was swallowing his fingertips in the most delectable way. “I—I ain’t never… Fuck.”

“Mm, tell me more,” you laughed against his chest. “I love your voice… Say my name again.”

He swallowed hard and shut his eyes tight as he tried so hard not to lose control of himself before he could tell you what he needed you to know, but the truth was he quite liked your name on his voice, too, and he had a proclivity for saying it, especially whenever he touched himself.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, a gruff and raspy sigh, but a sigh nonetheless. “I’ve never done this before.”

The vibration of your playful laughter against his pec as you kissed him there seemed to be a bad sign. What if you were laughing at him, laughing at how he couldn’t possibly ever please you? Clearly you wanted him, and now he couldn’t be the man you needed to satisfy you. A virgin? Surely that wasn’t the kind of man you expected him to be, and surely it wasn’t the kind of man you deserved. Not only that, but Daryl was no young man. He was much past the age of a typical virgin, so how was he supposed to excuse it? It just was never something he’d been very interested in, never something he’d been offered, either. Now here he was, with a woman who was just about ready to let him make love to her, and now he might’ve just blown it. Still, you needed to know. He owed you that, he thought. He needed you to know what you were getting into.

Now you knew.

Well, he had hoped you knew.

“Mm, done what before?”

Fuck. Ain’t it obvious?

“Never, uh…”

There’s no way, you thought. There’s no way this man is a virgin.

“Daryl,” you said, more seriously now as you lifted your head to look in his eyes, trying to find the truth as disbelief clouded your vision. Surely Daryl had women clamoring for him before the world ended. Surely he’d been with women before. You knew for a fact that there were a handful of women in Alexandria ready to drop their pants in a heartbeat for him. Hell, you were one of them, though you’d somehow managed to scare most of them off with your less than subtle attempts to publicly portray a more intimate relationship with Daryl, even if you’d never done anything more than kiss his cheek. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve never had sex before?”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah.”

“Oh, Daryl,” you laughed, raising your hands to cup his cheek. “That’s okay.”

“Really?” he asked, dumbfounded by your continued affection as your hands massaged his chest, pushing his shirt further off his shoulders. “Ya ain’t… disappointed?”

“Well, I’m sitting on the lap of the man I’ve had feelings for for seven years. I think there’s very few things that could disappoint me right now.”

That crooked, boyish smile that spread on his face was enough to show just how much that meant to him, how much relief washed over him. Still, it faded when another thought occurred to him.

“But what if I can’t… What if I can’t satisfy ya?”

You chuckled under your breath at the notion. “You’ve already satisfied me,” you said, causing his brows to knit together in confusion at the statement.

Leaning forward, you whispered in his ear, but only after taking a delicate bite of his earlobe. “I touch myself every night thinking about you,” you said. “Thinking about all the things I want you to do to me…” Your hand reached down to lift his fingers to his own lips, and that innocent confusion in his eyes as he looked at you only ignited a deeper fire within you. “Taste me.”

Something about the demand in your voice as you instructed him seemed to rule him up. You never commanded him before, not with such controlling need. He liked it, surprisingly. He liked when you bossed him around, especially since he had no clue what he was doing.

His tongue slipped out between his lips, as his eyes still locked firmly onto yours. Those fingertips sank effortlessly into his mouth, as a simple lick was not enough. He took four of his fingers inside, sucking them gently to absorb every last drop of you.

“Mm, good… Do you like that?” you asked, hands now massaging his scalp as soft, wavy caramel tresses draped over your attentive fingers.

It was almost patronizing how you spoke, as if you were amused by his relative innocence. Still, he liked how you spoke to him, so controlling and yet so soft, in that angelic voice of yours. You knew what you wanted, that much was clear, and Daryl knew what he wanted, too, but he’d need you to guide him. It was evident that you were more than willing to do so.

“Like it a lot,” he answered, tentatively returning his hand to the pot of dripping honey between your legs, though he stopped himself at the hem of your dress. “Can… Can I have some more?”

In a flash, you tugged on his hair, pushing his head back until it rested forcefully on the edge of the couch. His grunt of surprise echoed for a moment, turning you on far more than you intended.

“You want more?” you asked, brushing your nose up against his as your face and body pinned him down. Of course, he could probably throw you off him if he wanted to, but that was just the thing—he didn’t want to, not in a million years. He had you right where he wanted you, on top of him. “What do you want more of, sweetheart?”

He bit his lip and nodded his head, as if it was obvious. “Wanna taste you more.”

“On your fingers?”

“Yeah…” His tongue poked out between his lips as he desperately reached up to kiss you, and you let him, for a moment, until that sloppy tongue got too wily. He needed to be tamed, you thought. He needed control, otherwise he’d lose himself before he could even relish in the pleasure of his first time.

With a gentle, but firm, pull of his hair, you removed his saliva-soaked lips from yours, though it was tempting to keep him there, even if he was a sloppy kisser. In fact, you quite liked it that way.

“I got a better idea,” you whispered against his lips, which trembled in an attempt to close the space and devour you once again. “Lay down.”

As you raised yourself from his lap, you eyed the rather prominent bulge outlined in his jeans. Your thighs seemed to instinctually rub together, providing your sensitive area with a little relief until you could feel the friction you needed from him.

He seemed hesitant at first, slightly embarrassed by your eyes scanning his body. As he scooted forward, ready to maneuver himself, you called out another order: “Take your shirt off.”

The quarter-length sleeved button-up was still clinging to his shoulders, and you needed to see that strong, broad chest in all its glory. Clearing his throat, he relented, bashfully stripping himself of his shirt. Noticing his slight shame, probably from the numerous scars he’d developed over the years on his chest, your eyes turned soft and understanding. You, too, had your fair share of scars. Everyone who’d lived long enough in this world had them.

“You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about,” you said softly, hoping he wouldn’t recoil at your reassurance. “Your body is beautiful.”

He swallowed hard as he came to terms with your eyes taking him in. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look in the mirror many times before, examining his own nakedness and wondering what you’d think. Most of the time, he told himself you’d hate his body, how worn it was. He was bulky, too, and you were so soft and delicate in his eyes. Surely you’d have wanted someone more lean and with a smaller frame, but no… You thought he was beautiful. You said so yourself. He couldn’t argue with you, not even if he wanted to.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said, a nervous chuckle undercutting his gruff voice. It was so sweet to see him so shy as he called you beautiful for the first time. He’d hinted at it before, usually with the odd “you look nice,” or “I like your hair,” but never something so direct.

“Lay down,” you repeated, approaching slowly as you watched him lean back until he was lying face-up on the sofa, waiting for you.

His curiosity piqued when you straddled his stomach, rubbing your bare slit up and down his abdomen. You felt him tense up, and you could tell by the frozen movement in his chest that he was holding his breath, nervously expecting something.

“Just relax,” you laughed, letting your hands rest on his pecs to feel his breathing begin to return. He seemed to like your touch on his chest. “Let me show you how to do it… You still want to taste me again?”

He nodded slowly, keeping his trembling hands steady on your waist. “Yeah…”

“Good,” you said. “I like your tongue.”

As you slid up further on his chest, until his chin met your pelvis, you looked down to speak once more. “I'll guide you.”

Lifting yourself up, you straddled his face, then lowered yourself as you felt his hands curl around your thighs, pulling you further down. “Whoa,” you laughed, steadying yourself on his face as his tongue blindly searched for your entrance. “Settle down, partner.”

You pulled back the hem of your dress to meet his eyes, and watched them flit open to meet yours. His tongue moved in quick, rapid, hungry attempts to taste you, causing you to hiss under your breath at the sloppy movements as he only darted past your clitoris.

Pulling him gently by his hair, you guided his mouth to your clit, and held his head there with both hands, circling your thumbs over his temples. “That’s the spot,” you said. “Lick me there…” You tightened your grip on his head, swirling it around until his tongue was moving just the way you wanted it to, slow and steady. “Kiss me too.”

His lips suctioned around your clitoris as he kissed you there, all while his tongue moved at the pace you instructed. You kept your hands tangled in his hair, moving his head like a puppeteer holding her puppet on a string.

“Kiss and lick…” you sighed, watching his eyes flutter closed and his nostrils expand with each heavy breath. “Open your eyes.”

His hazy, blue-grey eyes opened just enough to see you peel that cream-colored dress from your body, revealing a pale pink bra that kept your breasts tightly contained. As the dress folded over your head, it took with it the scrunchie that had once held your loose updo in place, rendering the messy tendrils to spill over your shoulders and your face. With one hand, you tossed the discarded garment, and with the other, you moved the hair from your eyes to look back down at him, enraptured.

You reached back to unclasp your bra until the straps came loose, allowing you to slowly pull it from your chest until the lukewarm air of the living room hit your nipples just enough to get them stiff.

“Keep going,” you said, noticing his lips and his tongue had stopped moving, as he was in a state of awe. “You’re doing so good, Daryl.”

His tongue on your clit again, you began to rock back and forth, attempting to ride his tongue for the first time. He let out a grunt against you, but it wasn’t out of displeasure, that much was evident—his tongue moved more rapidly now, desperately lapping at your clit until he lost control of himself, moving his tongue back down to breach the entrance. You felt his tongue squirm inside you, tickling the shallow part of your hole.

“Oh…” you moaned under your breath, rocking with more vigor to match the clumsy wiggles of his tongue inside you. His head began to move side-to-side, causing the tip of his nose to tickle your clit with each pass. “Dar-Daryl, I… Oh, God.”

You felt his forearms wrap tight around your bare thighs, moving you at the pace of his tongue until you weren’t moving on your own accord anymore. His tongue and lips moved frantically, switching from your clit to your hole in rapid bursts as he couldn’t contain himself from sucking, licking, and kissing every part of that area. It was already so addictive, so delicious. He groaned deep against you, his way of begging you to ride him harder until you came on him, but he was going too fast for your liking, moving his mouth too hungrily.

“S-slow down,” you moaned, squeezing the back of the couch with one hand and tugging on his hair with the other. “Take it easy… No hurry. Just go slow… I like your tongue down there.”

He nodded, bringing his tongue back to your clit, where he let his head move once again with the guidance of your hands. “Good boy,” you laughed under your breath. You heard him groan underneath you, another groan of pleasure. “You like that?”

He nodded again, letting out another groan as his lips suctioned with your folds to make the most sinful sound, intermingling his saliva with your wetness.

“Just keep your head still,” you instructed. “And let me ride you.”

You clamped your hands to each side of his head, keeping him still as you slowly moved against the grain of his tongue’s flicks. Your back arched and your core grinding back and forth, you lowered your hands to meet Daryl’s as they rested on your thighs.

His hands went numb at your touch, letting you bring them up to your breasts, where you encouraged his hands to massage the supple tissue. His fingers moved clumsily as he tried to focus on his tongue pleasuring you, and the feeling of your breasts under his palms, bouncing with each thrust you made.

You moved at a steady rhythm, and his tongue began to match it, though all he wanted was to reach down for a moment and relieve himself over his jeans, which tightened and constrained his erection, the likes of which he was sure he hadn’t felt before. He’d had plenty of erections, but this? This was different. This was torturous.

Your hand encouraged his fingers to pinch your nipples, but one hand dropped down to palm at his clothed cock. You groaned, leaning back to replace his hand on your breast.

“You’ve got to make me come first,” you said with a smirk. “Then I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.”

He nodded, then moved to take one last deep breath of air before latching his mouth tight to your clit.

“Ugh!” you cried out, throwing your head back with the shockwave that teared through your abdomen. You were close to the height of your pleasure, after so long of Daryl’s tongue dancing wildly in an attempt to find his rhythm. You couldn’t say you didn’t like his sloppiness, though. It was cute, in a way. At least he listened to your instructions, for the most part. “That’s it, right there…”

He drew tighter and tighter circles around your sensitive spot, each swirl of his tongue tugging on the tightness in your core and getting you closer and closer to the climax. As his hands gripped tight around your thighs, you leaned back, arms stretched backwards to prop yourself up, hands resting on his lower abdomen as your body rocked back and forth, getting as much friction as possible against his tongue.

“Oh, yes!” you called out into the air. “Keep going… Daryl… Yes… Oh…”

One last thrust against his tongue sent your body into a cascade of pleasure as your orgasm pulsed through you. You let out a delirious laugh between deep, sultry moans. Each pulse caused your body to drag your slit back and forth over his tongue instinctually, letting your throbbing clitoris absorb even more pleasure.

With the last shockwaves of your orgasm, you maneuvered yourself until his tongue met your pulsing hole, dripping with the evidence of your orgasm. He didn’t hesitate to jut his tongue into your entrance, allowing himself to catch the droplets and to feel the last clenches of your moving walls.

Your hands held his as they rested on your hips, then dragged them slowly up the curve of your body until they cupped your breasts, sensitive and taught from your arousal. Lifting yourself from the lower half of his face, you straddled his chest until you could see his lips, glistening with saliva and raw from overuse. His eyelids were heavy, with only a sliver of those overcast sky blue eyes hazily watching you languidly drag your core up and down his abdomen.

His chest heaved as he panted, and as he caught his breath, you lowered yourself further until you felt the scratchy fabric of his jeans underneath you. Leaning forward, you took his panting lips in yours, massaging them gently to ease their exhaustion. You felt his arms coil around your back, pulling you closer until your bodies were almost one. It felt so natural being above him, letting him hold you close as his lips picked up the pace and demanded more movement from yours.

Soon his tongue was moving wildly inside your mouth again, and his hands moved desperately up and down your back, one finally landing on your bottom, the other tangling in your hair, forcing his kiss to go deeper.

The pressure from his grip on your ass made your core come into closer contact with his until you could feel the intense erection confined in his jeans. The pressure on your clit was too strong not to react, so your body instinctively moved, grinding your lower body back and forth over his clothed cock. He let out a deep hiss between your lips, and gripped harder onto your hair and ass as he threw his head back, finally separating himself from the lock of your lips.

“Ah, fuck!” he cried out. That sensation of your body dragging itself up and down his cock was torturous, in the way the most delectable pleasure can become so intense it turns itself into the most abject pain. “I need ya,” he whimpered, a small cry of help you’d never heard from the stoic man before. You hated to admit it, but it was beautiful to see him crumble, just a little. He was always so strong, so fearless in the face of the terrors from the outside world, and yet, with you, he was nervous, timid, and now, begging you for release from his state of arousal-induced agony. “I need ya so bad.”

A slight smirk across your face, you slowly sat up, purposefully putting more weight on your core as it sunk deeper into his.

“Shit!” he yelped, raising his head to look down, seeing what you were doing to him.

You bounced gently on his clothed erection, hoping to tease him just a little more before you released the poor thing from its entrapment.

“Ah, fuckin’ shit! You’re gonna make me come ‘fore you get my pants off, woman.”

“You better not,” you said. “Not before I get you inside me.”

He nodded rapidly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as your hand reached between your legs to stroke his clothed cock. “(Y/N),” he stuttered. “I can’t wait no more.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then let’s get these pants off.”

You felt his legs squirm as you lifted yourself up just enough to unbutton his jeans, then pull down the zipper until you could see the dark grey of his boxers. Your hands moving too slow for him, he reached down to pull off his pants until he could shimmy them off the rest of the way.

“You’re so impatient,” you teased, tickling your fingertips up and down the length of his cock, stiff and hard as a rock beneath the fabric of his underwear. His breath hitched and his hands clinged to your thighs, squeezing them tight as he tried to control himself.

“Woman, you’re evil,” he hissed under his breath.

You laughed and shook your head as you jerked the waistband of his underwear to reveal his cock—long, hard, and already beginning to stand up on its own. “Mm, wow… Big boy.”

He scoffed, halfheartedly glaring at you through hooded eyes. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t at least a little flattered, though. “Ya think so?”

“Know so. Nice and big and hard…”

Your hand wrapped tight around his shaft, pinning it to his abdomen as you sat yourself on the base of his cock. “Fuckin’… F-fuck, (Y/N),” he groaned. “Ain’t ya gonna put it inside ya for Christ’s sake?”

You pouted exaggeratingly, wiggling your hips to center his cock between your folds. “Not yet,” you said.

Leaning yourself backwards on your hands as they held his thighs, you slowly slid your slit up his shaft towards his tip, causing him to jolt at the feeling, that terrible trembling that surged through his cock as you slid backwards once again.

“You like that?” you asked.

“Shit, I… Fuckin’… God… Shit.”

“Mm, I’ll take that as a yes.”

“F-fuck yeah,” he clarified, watching as with each pass you spread a layer of sheen over his aching cock. “It’s fuckin’ amazing.”

You continued sliding his cock between your folds, moving your body back and forth rapidly, until his groans became so intense you were sure he’d come prematurely, so you slowed to an excruciating pace until you stopped, sitting still on the base of the cock.

He let out a strangled moan under his breath, almost high-pitched enough to be a whimper. “Woman…” he groaned, his voice drenched in a quivering ache. “I need ya.”

He tugged on your thighs with both hands, forcefully dragging you up and down his shaft once again, until you tore his hands from you, throwing them loosely above his head till they dangled over the arm of the sofa. “Hey,” you said. “You’re gonna come if you do that.”

“I—I wanna… Wanna come.”

He looked almost pitiful, panting out his words through trembling lips as his eyes hungrily trailed over your body, that body he had visualized in his head so many cold nights in those dense woods as he searched for his lost friend—searched for some kind of meaning to his life. When he settled back in Alexandria a year ago, he still couldn’t shake those thoughts from his mind. In fact, the yearning had only gotten worse. Now that you were here, finally really there and not just some blurry figment of his imagination, he couldn’t wait much longer.

“You’ll come,” you said, wrapping your hand around his shaft to lead it to your entrance. “I’ll make you come.”

“Ah, shit!” he blurted out as his tip entered your shallow end just for a brief moment. In a conscious act of near torture, you had pulled him out again.

Redness blotted his face and neck as he strained himself. His cheeks puffed up with air, each breath labored and heavy. You watched in amusement as the prominent vein in his neck swelled and clenched under his sweat-speckled skin.

When he calmed down for a moment, you let yourself sink down a little further onto his cock, heaving your own deep sigh of pleasure as you did so.

You felt a powerful jolt send you bouncing upwards, and his cock snaking deeper inside you. His hips bucked up in quick succession, causing you to grip his shoulders in order to restore your balance.

“Ah, fuck!” he cried out hoarsely. “Shit, I’m… I’m gonna…”

You pulled him out swiftly, eliciting a deep, guttural groan from the pit of his chest. “(Y/N)…” he whimpered, rolling his head back and forth in the best kind of agony. Still, it was agony.

You knew what you were doing, of course. You were drawing him so close to the edge, then pulling him back before he could reach it. All he wanted was to feel you clenching around him, your body bouncing on his as you enveloped him in the warmth and sweet friction of your twitching walls. He’d feel that eventually, but for now, you wanted to play with him a little.

He had gotten so close to release, though, that now he was rabid, practically foaming at the mouth and driven wild by lust and the pleasure he was being denied. It was exactly how you wanted him: desperate, almost primal in the way he needed you to release him. Not anyone else, not himself, you.

As you sat on his cock once more, taking the entirety of its length inside of you, you felt his cock begin to twitch, signalling it was close to its point of relief. The deepness and the angle at which he penetrated was intoxicatingly good, and if you weren’t so focused on him, you might’ve taken the opportunity to let yourself have another orgasm, but you didn’t think he’d last much longer, not long enough for you to do that.

Instead, you rode him hard again, arching your back and pinning his arms against the arm of the couch, hair cascading wildly around your face and bottom clenching hard with each thrust.

Your own moans started to harmonize with his until the two of you created some kind of erotic symphony of strangled grunts and breathy whimpers. As his eyes clenched shut and his neck strained again until all his muscles showed through the red-tinted skin, you pulled him out once more, letting his cock spring up to meet his belly button.

“Fuckin’ shit!” he groaned. “Fuck me, woman!”

Words fell on deaf ears as you watched him squirm. If he really wanted to, he could’ve escaped the grip you had on his arms, but who was he to do such a thing? After all, he was the virgin, and you were guiding him.

As your eyes locked onto his, you nearly gasped to see two glimmering pools of water forming in his eyes. Is he crying?

“Please, (Y/N),” he practically whined under his breath. “I need you… I need you. Please.”

One small, jagged tear ran down his cheek, but your lips caught it before reaching his jawline. Kissing over to his lips, you jutted your tongue into his mouth to get another feel of his wily tongue.

“I love it when you beg me,” you whispered against his lips. “You’re such a good boy.”

If he had any willpower left in his body, he would’ve sassed you for the slightly degrading compliment, but he could hardly speak any word other than “please.”

So you sat yourself back down on the base of his cock, once again spreading your lips to envelope his shaft as you slid up and down, this time with the intention of letting him finish.

When he pulled on your hips, tugging you faster along his shaft, you didn’t stop him, letting him use you to get himself off now. “Ah… yeah… shit…”

It didn’t take long at all for a small spurt of white liquid to emerge from his swollen red tip, with a series of bigger spurts following in quick succession and pooling on his stomach. His chest heaved and his face melted in pure bliss with each twitch of his cock that sent shocks through his core. He’d never felt an orgasm like that, not one from such contact with someone else, and surely not from contact with you, the only woman he could imagine as he touched himself at night. No, this was different.

“Holy… shit,” he panted. “That was… so fuckin’ good.”

“Mm,” you hummed, wrapping your fingers around his softening cock and tucking it back in where it belonged. He twitched at the feeling of his still sensitive tip grazing the deepest part of you, but it felt too good to pull away, too warm and soft inside you. “We should’ve done that a long time ago.”

Eyes still closed as he processed his bliss, he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead as you tucked your face into his neck. The couch was much too small for both of you in this position, but the closeness was worth the sacrifice of comfortability.

“We shoulda,” he agreed, then let out a deep sigh. “Jesus, woman, you like to torture me, don’t ya?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing the last seven years, huh? Torturing you is kind of my thing.”

His hand tangled in your hair until a strand formed a curl around his finger. He never thought he could be so entranced by just a piece of hair. That was how much you affected him—even the tiniest, most insignificant part of you was enough to distract him.

“Yeah, well,” he said, “please tell me I wasn’t the worst you ever had.”

You scoffed and nuzzled your nose into his neck, kissing his collarbone. “You were the best,” you said. His scoff of disbelief caused your eyes to flutter to meet his in pure genuineness. “Really. You’re the best.”

“Nah,” he said. “I sucked, you can say it.”

Well, he really hoped you wouldn’t, actually. His pride was at an all-time high, despite his self-deprecation. It was a hard habit to break, but the confidence he felt now was already another addiction he’d have to grapple with.

“Daryl, I love you.” Your words were so matter-of-fact, so blatant and direct, that he needed to blink away his disbelief before letting your dead serious face come back into focus. “Sex isn’t anything without love… I don’t care that you’re a virg—Well, were a virgin. I love you, and that fact alone made it the best sex I’ve ever had. Plus, you’re really not that bad.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Mhm… Just a little sloppy, but we’ll work on that. Practice makes perfect.” You tugged on his chin to guide his lips back to yours, kissing them sweetly for just a short moment. Even the littlest, most innocent peck was enchanting to him.

“I love you,” he said, eyes turning hazy as the heaviness of his lids began to blur your visage. “Shoulda said it a long time ago… Shoulda done a lot of things a long time ago.”

You tilted your head and smiled. “You’re saying it now… That’s all that really matters.”

A comfortable silence settled in after a while, the steady beating of Daryl’s heart lulling you into a shallow sleep until his deep, syrupy voice gently roused you.

“Hey,” he said, softly shaking your shoulder.

“Mhm?”

His nose nuzzled into your hair, where he left a small kiss, or maybe two, he was too sleepy to count, and quite hungry, as well.

“Got any peach pie?”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

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Charming Killer: 3

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Pairing: Neteyam x reader

PART ONE PART TWO PART FOUR

Summary: Neteyam comes back for you bearing gifts. He then asks you to come outside with him so he can show you around as a guide. You two end up in a clearing and can’t keep your hands off each other. Then you get interrupted…

Warnings: Thigh riding, mention of dick, dirty talk, use of good girl, soft!dom Neteyam which is not OOC

Word Count: 4.0k

A/N: Girl I have no idea what happened, one minute I was going ‘ah Neteyam 🥰” then next thing I knew I was going “ah Neteyam 😏!” I honestly wasn’t planning on writing smut this early but I guess it’s the way it’s gone. IM SO SORRY IF YOU CANT READ NSFW BUT NEXT BIT WON’T BE <3

┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙

Keep reading

3K notes View Post

slapmewithacroc

1 year ago

Discovering yourself

Request: Hiiiii. Would you please write something with Aegon x f!reader? I would love to see something where the characters are opposite. Would it be okay for the reader to be a bit shy and socially awkward and loves books and music but at the same time wants to experience a bit of life but doesn’t know how and is a bit afraid to get out of her comfort zone. Once she gets to know someone she talks and is super fun but it takes her a bit of time. And then there is of course Aegon who we know is quite the opposite. The reader fancies him and the two fall in love? Could that be possible? Thank you.

w.c: 3.4k

c.w: baratheon!reader, ooc aegon probably, hes a bit of an ass sometimes, fluff, insecure/shy reader, sfw! no smut since the request didnt state it, not proofread

masterlist

Unlike the rest of your family you had been more than happy when your family received an invitation to stay at kings landing in the red keep for a helena's name day festivities as she had become close with your sister floris. You had not been able to come with the rest of the family last time as you had been in bed rest.

You couldn't even imagine how big the red keep had been and while on the way there you could barely sit still your sister hitting you on the shoulder more than once to stop you from moving around.

“Welcome back to the keep.” Alicent greeted the rest of your family before he eyes locked onto yours, “I don't believe I recognized you.”

You open your mouth to say something but there's a pause and nothing manages to come out so you put your head down as your father speaks, “my daughter, lady y/n, she was bedridden the last time we came to visit.”

Alicent lets out an acknowledged hum and you keep your head down fiddling with the fabric on your dress. You're sure your father will scold you later.

“a pleasure, this is my son aemond and his lady wife heleana, aegon could not be here..”

you can hear the annoyance in her tone but choose to not acknowledge it and greet the other two siblings.

more formalities are exchanged between the two families, “it is so wonderful for house baratheon to join us for heleanas nameday festivities, she has grown quite fond of your family-”

the doors of the room you were all in burst open, all head whip back to look in shock, “prince aegon!”

“I am here.”

“You are late.” you hear his mother hiss quietly to him as he stands in place next to his siblings.”

“apologies, my son prince aegon.”

alicent introduces her son. You had heard the stories of Targaryen beauty and thought the two Targaryen siblings were gorgeous but Aegon, despite the fact he looked tired and a little sloppy, was a different level of beauty. He hadn't even needed to try and he wowed you.

as if he could feel your stare he locks eyes with you and you shyly put your head down towards the floor oblivious to the smirk that's grown on his face.

Some more pleasantries were exchanged but you didn't bother to lift your head still feeling his stare. You wish you weren't so awkward, if you had been anything like your sisters who could keep their heads up high and smile while locking eyes while you could barely hold a sentence with these people.

You barely even notice you had all been dismissed until you felt yourself being dragged away by your sister floris. A part of you can't get the idea of Aegon out of your head, even as you fall asleep that night you wonder if you'll get the opportunity to speak with him.

Today was meant to be the first of a three day long festival including a grand feast, a tourney and finally a ball all in honor of heleana.

The second you walk outside you are immediately hit with hundreds of people, it was definitely a celebration with music, people dancing, some watching the performers. It was magical, you had never seen such life brought to one place before.

You and the rest of your family were sitting in one of the higher tables closer to the targaryens, you watch as floris eagerly runs up to greet heleana while you stand with your sisters who make many comments on the festivities.

“I can't believe he can put that whole sword down his throat.”

“It was just on fire too, how preposterous.”

“Maybe he just has a lot of practice. Do you think he’s fond of men.”

Cassandra and Ellyn turn to you in horror while maris lets out your name in a chuckle while hitting your shoulder.

You shake your head with a grin but are horrified to hear the sound of laughter behind you and turn around.

“Prince aegon.” you're all clearly mortified as you all bow but he moves to stand next to you and stare at the man.

“If he is not he should start to be there is so much potentially to be held.”

“I am so sorry my prince i should not have-”

He waves you off with his hand and continues to look on in the crowd, “these events are such a bore they practically force you to make such a joke.”

“I did not mean to offend-”

“You talk like my brother.”

You have nothing else to say back instead just stand and watch the crowd disperse. It is only then you notice your sisters have all walked off elsewhere and you curse them in your head as the two of you stand in silence aside from the gulps Aegon takes from his chalice.

“What do you think about her?”

He points towards a contortionist not too far from where the two of you were standing. She had her leg way over her head.

“She is very pretty.”

“Oh come on, you must have some other comments to make.”

You tilt your head at her as she moves into a split and lays down flat on her stomach.

“Men must certainly fight for her attention, I am sure she is a rather capable woman.”

Your words are faster than a bird and quieter than a mouse but Aegon certainly hears them and bursts out into a roar of laughter causing those around you to turn and stare. Your face flushes and you stare at the ground as Aegon composes himself still chuckling.

“You are a scandalous lady, y/n.”

You shake your head, “I do not know why I said such a thing.”

“You said it because it is true, look,” he leans in closer to you, much too close, and subtly points, “look at lord simon staunton he looks like he wants to eat her alive.”

You gasp and bring a hand to your mouth as you take notice and look back at Aegon who has a smile on his face, “he is old enough to be her grandfather, no even her great grandfather! That is ridiculous.”

Aegon shrugs, taking another sip of wine with a chuckle. “I rather think that's what he likes about it.”

You can't help but laugh for the first time in this whole conversation keeping your head down. Once you finally lift your head and look at him he's already looking at you. You feel a rush of heat flood your face, he stares at you for a moment longer, his eyes drift down to your lips. He opens his mouth to speak but before he can you hear your fathers voice call out your name.

“I must go.” you quickly turn, feeling embarrassed about the sudden tension between the two of you and barely hear him as you rush away, “i shall see you lady y/n”

You can barely relax the rest of the day your conversion with Aegon playing in your mind over and over. It was the first time you had been sop open with somebody you barely knew. It was so refreshing to be able to joke and laugh with someone who was not your family.that night you toss and turn in bed with a big smile on your face. In turn you cannot sleep so you sit up and contemplate what to do.

You would normally read a book but your father wouldn't allow you to take any on this trip saying there was no need for it but right now youre groaning and fall flat back on the bed.

An idea suddenly hits you, you remember from the tour one of the guards had given you there was a library not too far from your room. It wouldn't be an issue to go and grab a book really quickly right. A grin finds itself on your face as you realize the red keep has many books you have never read or even heard of and before you know it you throw on an overcoat and begin to quickly make your way over to the library with a lantern in hand.

Nobody would mind if you just took one maybe two books to keep you sated for the rest of your stay here right? That's what you think as you manage to sneak in and out of the library with two books under your coat as you quickly try to make your way back to your room. You almost reach your door before a voice behind you rings out.

“Now what could you be doing, wondering about by yourself..”

You turn and gasp, “prince aegon.”

In your shock the books fall out of your hands, you quickly bend down to pick them up missing the ‘ah’ that had escaped his lips.

“So you read?”

“I am so sorry-”

“You did not answer my question.”

You stall for a moment, not daring to lift your head from the floor. “Yes.”

He hums, “you are quite like my brother. I see no fun in it.”

At a loss for words you keep quiet and take a step back closer to your door, turning around fully before you speak, “i shall bid you goodnight-”

“You will sit in the royal box tomorrow for the tourney.” your movements freeze and you're thankful you are not facing him as your face must be full of shock.

You manage to compose yourself not turning around, “i thought my family would be sitting in one of the lower boxes-”

“Not your family. You. you shall sit in the royal box. With me.”

You feel a wild course of emotions run over your body. What does he mean, just you? Is he attempting to court you? He is trying to seduce you? Does he want something from you? Or maybe he is just trying to be kind? Maybe he takes pity on you after you had embarrassed yourself the last two days?

You must be frozen for a while because he begins to laugh. You take a deep breath, “I must decline.” because you certainly cannot sit in the royal box with the prince. What would the people think? What would your father think? You cannot even imagine having to try and explain why you would be sitting with them tomorrow.

“This is not a request. You shall join me tomorrow. I am the prince. I say it is so.”

“But my family.” “They shall sit in the box in one of the many stands below.”

“I cannot just leave my family.”

He tsks and huffs, “then so be it your family shall join us too. I'm sure heleana would be happy to be seated with floris.”

Did he want you to sit in the box so badly he was willing to just add your family at your request just like that? No, he wanted you to sit in the box. With him.

“alright, goodnight my prince.”

You do not even wait for a response as you book it down the hallway and slam the door to your room shut. The books you had gotten drop to the floor as you cover your hands with your face. Out of breath like you had just ran a marathon you find yourself unable to stop smiling.

When you and your family make your way outside you pretend to be shocked when your family is escorted to the royal box. You all greet the royal family who all stand to greet you. Aegon grabs your arm and ushers you to sit down next to him. You ignore the burning stares of your family as aegon quickly makes conversation with you.

“Isn't the view so great from here aren't you happy I told you to sit here?” it's not a question more so a statement and all you can do is nod your head.

“Oh come on you must have something to say to me.” he pouted at you and you swiftly turned away from him, “well you did not ask.” you mumble and he smiles, shaking his head and takes a drink of wine. “I certainly did not. You would have sat here one way or another.”

You're thankful Aegon is sitting in the front row of the box while the rest of your family is all the way in the back so at least you won't have to deal with the questioning of your family.

“Did you prepare a favor lady , y/n?” you turn back to face queen who addressed you and nod, “yes my queen.” not mentioning it is the same favor you've had for awhile as no one had ever asked for your favor. You do not take notice to aegons clenched jaw at the question and narrow eyes at the question.

The journey begins and you've never seen a tourney as big as this one. But as it is it is pretty uneventful. You cannot hold your surprise when you see aemond being introduced. “He is competing?”

Aegon next to you hums as he continues to drink, “he does not like this stuff, calls it horse shit but heleana wanted to see him compete so he entered.”

He of course comes up and asks heleana for her favor which she gladly gives him before he rides away.

“And his opponent, ser bronn beesbury!” The man rides in full confidence. When he takes off his helmet you can't help but admit he is a very handsome man, certainly not more handsome than Aegon but he was a very attractive man. He rides over near the royal box and Aegion sits up for the first time this whole tourney.

“Lady baratheon, you are the essence of beauty.” he holds up his hand towards the box and you're shocked in a haste you look over the edge and toss out your favor for him to catch.

“You bless me this day my lady.”

You sit back in your seat unable to say anything. You end up glancing at Aegon expecting him to make some comment about the man as he had been doing with all the other fighters that day. He was not even looking at you. An unreliable look on his face as he tapped his fingers on the table next to him. He started dead at aemond who stared back for a moment before nodding and slamming his helm down.

The match began and you were wowed as aemond swiftly takes ser bronn down with an extra hard hit and ser bronn hits the floor and doesn't stand back up. You gasp as he's dragged off the scene and for the first time in the last couple minutes Aegon laughs turning to you. “What a fool thinking he can go against a targaryen.”

A part of you feels like he's not just talking about aemond.

you didn't speak to Aegon after the tourney as the men went out on a hunt and you're grateful especially since you're more than embarrassed after your thoughts during today's tourney.

Though it is very tough to answer your family's questions when you don't even know yourself.

Finally it was heleanas name day and the day of the ball. You spent the morning with your family, the royal family nowhere in sight seemingly preparing for tonight's ball.

When you arrive back in your room that afternoon to prepare for the ball you and your maid are shocked to see a beautiful red and black gown laid out on the bed. “Did my father prepare this?”

The maid shook her head, she's been your maid for as long as you can remember so she freely speaks around you, “the baratheons may be wealthy little ones but your father could not afford a dress like this one.”

The dress is gorgeous as you run your hands down it you can barely believe it.

“Well come on little one let's get you dressed.”

When your family comes knocking on your door their eyes all drop to your dress, “what is this look about?”

“Where did you get that dress?”

“Oh I made it just today.”

“Shut your mouth and tell me.”

“I had no idea it was simply on my bed when I walked into my room.”

The discussion of your dress continued until you had been standing in front of the door waiting to be announced.

“Is it not obvious the prince has given her the dress?” You and Cassandra whip your heads to look at maris who shrugs.

“Oh come on it's in the Targaryen house colors and obviously he seems obsessed with our dear sister.”

“Be quiet you three” you would be surprised if your father could not hear the pounding of your heart as you consider maris’ idea.

Would the prince really leave you a dress like this? What could that possibly mean? Before you have any time to think, you and the rest of your family are being announced.

As you walk into the room you fail to ignore the stares of your fellow peers as they all seem to gawk at the dress you had been wearing. Keeping your head lowered slightly you eagerly rush to your seat.

Soon after the main family is announced and everyone stands. When you see Aegon, a pit forms in your stomach. The suit he wears is basically identical to the dress you had on, your sister maris clearly also takes notice of this as she leans towards you, “told you so.”

As the queen gives a speech and thanks everyone you attempt to hide yourself behind your father out of embarrassment but still manage to notice the smug look on aegons face as he looks over at you.

Soon enough dinner is served and the music starts and you forget for a moment why you had been so embarrassed in the first place laughing with your family over good food and good music. After the food in front of you had been cleared you feel eyes staring into your back, refusing to turn around you attempt to continue the conversation you had been having with your sister maris who comments on the fact that one of the lords had stepped on ever girls foot whom he's danced with which causes you to laugh.

A throat clears behind you and you freeze, maris smiles, “good evening my prince.” Everyone greets him as well and he gives a greeting back. You turn back to look at him and your eyes widen as he holds out his hand.

“Dance with me.”

He says it in the same tone he had told you you were to sit in the royal box with him. It is not a question. “Aren't there any other ladies you would prefer to dance with?”

“No. Now come on.”

You glance over at your father who smiles and moves his head signaling for you to dance.

You grab aegons hand and he is more than eager to let you onto the dance floor with him. “I heard you are fond of music.”

“I am my prince,, where did you hear that?”

“One of your sisters had mentioned it. The plain looking one.”

You gasp, “how could you say such a thing?”

He chuckles his eyes never leaving yours, “I am simply stating the truth, I apologize.”

You huff and turn your face away from him, “if anything i am the plain one my prince.”

He huffs as he grabs your chin and turns your head to face him, “you are not. Now shut your mouth.”

A silence fills between the two of you as he continues to stare at you. “Why do you think that?” A pathetic laugh escapes you, “I am not the funniest, I am not the most pretty, not the most talented. I am the quiet sister who has no idea how to speak to people or has no confidence in anything. I shall remain alone forever as a spinster while my sisters all go off and get married.”

The song ends and the two of you stand still while everyone claps. You do not look at him while he stares at you.

“If you are so boring then why have you captured me so. If you are not unfunny then why do I find myself laughing more in your presence than I ever have. If you are so untalented then why are you the first lady I've enjoyed dancing with? If you shall remain alone forever then why do I wish to be by your side.”

You don't even notice that all the eyes in the room are staring at the two of you, aegon is your whole world right now.

“Marry me. And I shall open up the world to you.”

465 notes View Post

slapmewithacroc

2 months ago

can i request some slutty luffy? just fuck me up fam ☠️

AHH i think this is so beautiful and one of my fav smuts i’ve written!!! :’)

hunger - luffy x f!reader

Can I Request Some Slutty Luffy? Just Fuck Me Up Fam ☠️

smut

summary: luffy gets incredibly horny, and he’s confusing lust with hunger

contains: mating press, praise, marking (reader receiving)

words: 2.4k

_______________________________

Luffy’s alone. He thinks, right now, of touch. And his body is sweaty from the day and from his yearning mind, he’s shirtless because an hour ago he lit on fire beneath his skin, he’s been simmering ever since, and it’s healed, somehow, by touch. So his fingers dig into the grooves of his abs, he likes to feel them flex and shift as he traces every corner, mouth open, drooling onto the glass of the porthole. He left his bed an hour ago when he lit on fire beneath his skin. His blanket became too hot, his mind too full to fall asleep. He’s thinking about food now, juicy fruits that drip down his throat, melted cheese, the greasy, fatty pieces of steak that slide so slowly along his tongue.

He rubs his stomach because he’s hungry, that’s it. There’s a burning within him, starvation but if it was beautiful. He needs food right now but he knows, somehow, that food won’t do anything for him, not really. And if he rubs his stomach because he’s hungry then why does his hand go lower, down beneath his waistline, tugging at the hair down there because, why? Why does this feel good? Why is he moaning, little whimpers that fog the glass, what does he need? He thinks of touch. Skin on skin. That’s it, skin on skin.

You’re probably alone. Moonbeams sail one by one from the east with the wind and blackening sky as the sunset turns lilac, fading, gold waves turning silver, copper. Translucent silk the color of the sunset hangs from your shoulders, a slip so loose it barely covers your chest. It isn’t cold tonight and you’re not tired. You saw dolphins this evening and you wonder if you can see them again before the water disappears in the night. Everyone else is already asleep. You hope that when you’re tired you can find Luffy, who’s probably asleep, and curl up with him as everything drifts away.

But as the ocean laps at the ship and you’re calmed by the gentle rocking you feel, suddenly, arms from behind. Arms that run over yours, hands massaging your wrists up to your shoulders. A distinct smell, the feeling of hot rubber, this is Luffy and he’s so, so warm. And his breathing is so heavy in your ear. He places his chin on your shoulder and it’s covered in drool, he begins to slowly lick your neck as he pulls you closer. You haven’t even said hi before he has you in his lap, squeezing your waist from behind. His licks turn to kisses, and then to bites, all over your upper back and then a wet, raw trail up to your jaw. He’s groaning with want, no words yet, he has too many things he wants to say.

“Hi Luffy,” you murmur with a little smile, reaching back to pet his face which is burning up and flushed. His tongue laps your cheek, he’s an excited puppy, you feel his teeth now so you ask gently, “what’s up?”

“Gonna eat you,” he says in a quiet, gravely voice, right into your ear. He whines after this in desire, in hunger, he’s lustful and desperate.

“Yeah?” You lean back against him. His arms are so tight, he’s trying to wrap you up and crush you like a python. And you can feel his heartbeat race in every muscle.

“Mh, ‘cause you’re real pretty. And I’m hungry so I’m gonna eat you.” He’s almost trying to take a bite out of your neck now, his teeth are sharp but his tongue is soothing, he moans because he likes the flavor. “Real pretty…” he hisses again beneath his breath.

You turn so you’re facing him. He needs a kiss right now and he doesn’t hesitate to grab your face and dive in, writhing tongue slipping greedily between your lips. And there’s a gentleness here too, his hand moves to the back of your head, stroking your hair adoringly. He isn’t going to hurt you he just needs you so, so bad and he doesn’t really know how or why or what he should say.

“God, Luffy.” You’re quiet, muffled by his mouth. And just hearing your voice again clouds his mind.

“Love ya, love ya so much,” he says in between moans and kisses. His nails scrape at your chest, delighted by softness, something to grab onto, more to squeeze. “I wanna play, please can we play?”

Trying to get on top of you he’s leaning over you and pulled by instinct, he wants you straddling him but he wants to be on top at the same time. He’s just a tangle of limbs right now, saliva dripping messily onto your neck.

“Of course I’ll play with you.” You’re blushing, eyes closing but he’s squeezing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him, huge sparkling eyes as deep as the Mariana look down on you.

Luffy begins to laugh. Just a breathy giggle at first, blowing air between his teeth in a little joyful hiss. And then his mouth opens, he laughs more, louder, that’s what he does when he’s excited and when he knows he’s about to get something that he wants so, so bad. And then it fades to giggles again, and he stills for a moment, no movement except his chest. Rise and fall, rise and fall. He’s just looking at you.

And then he licks his lips. He dives in.

You make a small sound, surprised and unable to react in time, as Luffy plants his feet firmly on the deck, your thighs slamming his stomach as your legs are thrown over his shoulders. And you’re bent, folding tighter and tighter as Luffy crouches over you. His arms encircle your legs and your back and your waist and constrict again, his legs are spread and ready, twitching, hips pressing yours. He’s forgetting, probably, that you aren’t as flexible as he is.

“This is good, Lu, this right here,” you manage to choke out because you often have to remind him what your body can and can’t take.

He mumbles a little apology and does a once over with his eyes, he wants to make sure that you aren’t hurt but, at the same time, he’s letting his gaze linger on your body, on the silk slip that’s fallen as your waist curls upwards and your breasts are bare now, so delicious, he’s drooling again. You’re tasty, you’re his.

This must take so much strength, the way he’s perched on his toes over your body, his thigh muscles clench and ripple against yours. Shared sweat, shared warmth. His balance is perfect even as he reaches for your chest, rubbing, holding, kissing, now he’s kissing your lips, now your neck. He doesn’t want this ever to be over.

And he says, “I love ya so much.” That’s the third time he’s said it.

“I love you too,” you say with such joy even as you’re breathless still, but before you can finish he’s pressing his mouth to yours hungrily. You said you loved him and he wants to taste it — the flavor of those words — it’s all-consuming.

“Tastes so good, mmh,” Luffy gasps as he takes you into this hot, wet kiss, “can’t wait, wanna play now.”

You’re not sure how he did it from this position, but his pants are off, kicked to the side. His cock is aching and leaking already and smoldering against your stomach, you can see it from here, throbbing and waiting, skin so smooth and thin and perfect like auburn moth wings over red-hot iron.

His chest crashes against yours in a tidal wave now because this new vulnerability makes him want to be closer. Now you can’t see it anymore but god, it’s so hard it feels like he’s denting you, so long and thick like a python, he’s still holding you, and squeezing more and more. Like a python.

With so much pressure he wraps his hands around lower, lower, snapping your panties, thrusting against your stomach in a way that shakes your body but he’s got you. You’re in his arms.

Begging eyes so close to yours, mouth on your lips and cheek, breathing so fast and so warm and he whispers, “can I?” And it’s so scratchy and kind and needy so deep in his throat.

So you pull his hair, you kiss him, yes.

Rolling back on his heels he finds his way, sloppy thrusts that don’t quite make it but god when they do, he isn’t going all the way even though his every nerve craves you but you’re his baby and he can’t hurt you.

Thick tip so soft and gentle, butterfly wings and flowers, impossibly hard and aching in heartbeat rhythms against your clit, moving you with every pulse, searching and desperate like a moth to a flame he finds you.

Shivers that make you clench your legs against his shoulders as he rubs and rubs back and forth and hugs your body and bites your cheek and murmurs, “that feel good? Ya like that?” with such curiosity like he really wants to know, he wants an answer.

“Perfect, so perfect. Please, I need you.” Words in his ear like shooting stars lighting up his body like the darkening sky. He’s made of ochre sunbeams.

He smiles and laughs and with another quick kiss he’s finding you more. Muscles flex and as he leans forward onto you he’s there, right there. He starts to moan loudly and whisper about how happy he is but it’s Luffy so it’s not a whisper, really. He’s not even inside you yet. He’s just so, so excited.

“Feels so good, so good. C’mere,” he giggles against you happily and makes sure he holds you as he’s pushing into your body, you’re filled in an instant and more and more every second.

Amid the panting and moaning you can almost hear that heartbeat and those pulsing veins buried in you. You’re dented again but from the inside now. With a little mh, Luffy finds his home so, so deep. You’re in a cocoon of warmth, wrapped in the sun, filled by the sun, melting.

“My girl’s so pretty, gotta bite, gonna bite.” Those teeth again and their practiced, hungry chewing. He swallows on instinct, abs vibrating and tightening against your skin as his stomach purs. And he’s rocking into you, back and forth on his toes, enjoying that deep, tight massage. He’s inside you, he’s trying to eat you, trying to get you inside him, too.

You’re going to be covered in marks but that’s ok. You like hearing him groan and laugh against you, and something about that swallowing, his throat flexing against your shoulder, that’s so beautiful to feel.

“Mine, ‘kay? Mine.” Luffy’s talking the whole time through his laughter and you’re swept away by him as he continues to crush your body from the inside over and over, tidal waves on a cliff’s edge, he makes whirlpools in you.

“This is so fun, you’re so fun, so pretty,” he keeps huffing and you hear this over and over as he squirms and wriggles on your body, thrusts shallower because he can’t bear to pull out of you any more than he needs to. Luffy wants to be close and never leave.

He tries to have conversations with you that just spill into unending praise. You’re too dizzy and lost in this world of feeling to respond most of the time but you kiss him whenever he wants, you tell him he’s beautiful and that he feels so good whenever your voice is there.

He’s swelling in you, veins bulging and rubbing so far up inside you that you feel him throbbing in your stomach, his twitching cock encouraged by your clenching, leaking, every muscle wracked with craving and overstimulation.

“Gonna fill you up ‘cause you’re real pretty,” he laughs against your lips, twisting into you deeper still, “gotta make ya all mine.” He still sounds so sweet and so soft, just a playful little puppy.

Even as he groans and begins to pump you full.

Love feels like this, love is raw and endless like this, love makes you float away. You close your eyes and now he lets you, you just hold him, you let the rhythm carry you and it feels like so long until he’s done. He doesn’t want to pull away but his legs give out. His knees finally hit the deck, he squeals in delight as he’s pulled from you with a wet little sound. But he’s still hugging you, of course.

“Heh, felt so good.” Luffy’s smiling with all his teeth, his chin sparkles with saliva, and your neck is dripping too, “thanks, darlin’. Love ya so much”

“Love you too. I love you, Luffy.” You don’t want to ever leave from his arms and you feel so empty now. But you’re soaked in him, neck and thighs both shining.

His hand rests gently on your back, helping you sit up, your slip falls back down over your body and it’s all wrinkled now. Luffy smooths your hair, he pets you, now is when he just wants to stare at you and not say a word. But when he sees the blooming red and purple trailing from your ear to your collarbone he starts to shake a little bit.

“Aw, this ain’t hurtin’ right?” he murmurs, tracing the bruises and teeth marks with his fingers so softly, carefully. There’s no blood, it’s just glossy with layers of drool, he’s proud but he needs to check on you first.

“No, it’s not bad. Don’t worry, I like it.” You kiss him right next to his mouth but he turns, quickly, because he wants your lips. “Whole crew’s gonna know I’m yours, that’s all.”

This makes him smile. He sees no reason for embarrassment or shame, you’re his so he can bite you when he wants. You feel his muscles twitch against you again as he laughs. And he’s flushed all red, hibiscus on his warm honey skin. Those eyes, dark brown eyes melting with that lavender of the sunset which is almost gone now, fading silently. So orchid blue then, on loving, deep Bulgarian rose.

“Good! I want ‘em to.” he rubs his head against your cheek, still biting just a little. And now he’s moving like he wants to pick you up and carry you, even though you’re both tired. But it’s because he’s hungry, and in that throaty little voice he asks, “wanna go get snacks?”

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slapmewithacroc

3 years ago

Dying For (Adrian Chase/Vigilante x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of stalking, Adrian has a praise kink (also a bit of a sub here), mentions of blood/injury, stitches, mentions of violence, vaginal fingering, handjobs, blowjobs, thigh riding, (lmk if I missed anything please!!)

You awake to the sound of shattering glass.

Fucking great.

The one time you’re home alone, house sitting for you parents, shit like this happens—

You throw your comforter off in a great flourish and vault from your bed. Goobie, your parent’s old, wrinkly basset hound, one wrong breath away from yeeting off this mortal coil, begins to bay at the foot of your bed. Chilly air caresses your bare thighs, the hardwood floors turning your toes to ice. You grab your brother’s baseball bat that rests besides your dresser as Goobie howls at the door. More glass splinters and cracks, stemming from the living room.

A life in Evergreen is never overwhelmingly busy—especially without a job. Only thing you frequently find yourself doing nowadays is participating in a long standing rivalry between you, a broom, and and the congregation of overly curious raccoons that have sequestered themselves in your backyard. One night—one fucking night you left out a box of Cheez-Its and now they think it’s easy pickings—

They’ve grown bold, you think, to physically manifest inside your living room. It’s fine. Totally cool.

Except—

As you open your door, dressed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shitty underwear, prepared to beat back the surge of grubby, little thieves, you’re met with—

Well…you’re not really sure what you’re looking at, to be quite frank.

Keep reading

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slapmewithacroc

1 year ago

Glory days- S. Vettel

Sebastian Vettel x wife! Reader

In which you ask your husband to fuck you like he did in your glory days

Warnings?; SMUT, p in v, unprotected sex(plz use protection!), oral(f receiving), fingering(f receiving), dirty talk, ass slapping, degrading, cursing, porn with a small plot, prob many errors & bad grammar

Part of my 1k celly:)

You blamed the internet for being the reason you were seeking out your husband. The damn tik tok you scrolled upon showing your husband being drowned in champagne by two of his closest friends and then him showing his tongue with his index finger up to the world.

You loved the way Sebastian treated you in the bedroom, there was no doubt about that.

But the video had you missing the RedBull days where he was more wild and would have you pinned against a wall with tears streaming down your face as he spat things at you in German, how he’d tease you for so long you were sobbing and begging for him, the quickies in his drivers room while the entirety of the RedBull team were looking for him.

Finally finding him sat at his desk in the office you snuck up behind him, running your hands down his chest to signal your presence.

“Hi meine Liebe” he smiled taking your hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

“Hi” you greeted back.

Turning around in his chair the man smiled up at you before pulling you onto his lap.

“The girls go down easy?”

“By the second story they were both snoring” he laughed at the thought of his sweet twins fast asleep.

“I’m glad, they love having you put them to bed” you beamed snuggling deep into his chest.

“And I love doing it”

You two sat like that for a minute , his large hand running along your back while he replied to emails he’d been putting off.

“Hey Seb?” Your soft voice broke the comfortable silence.

“Yes darling?”

“Remember the night you won your third championship?” You smirked at the sound of the him taking a sharp breath.

“Of course I do, what about it?” He coughed slightly shifting underneath you.

“Remember how drenched we were in champagne? How you poured it down my chest before licking it up? How you made me come three times in three different ways?”

A cry tore from your throat when his hand slotted in your hair and pulled you from his neck.

“What are you trying to do here Schatz?” He grunted

“I just…We haven’t gone at it like that in a long time, and don’t get me wrong I still love the way you fuck me but I kinda miss us being messy and rough” you spoke looking up at him with his favorite doe eyes.

A growl, an actual growl broke from the mans throat before he smashed his lips against yours, the kiss was hot and sloppy, something familiar but yet forgotten.

His free hand reaching down to grip your hip, pulling you so close you could feel his chest moving in and out against your own.

“Seb” you panted pulling away from his lips.

“What?”

“I need you, please. I need you to fuck me so hard that I don’t remember my own name-like you used to.” You begged the blonde.

Without anymore pleading he slipped his hands under your thighs before standing and making his way down the hall.

“Seb you passed the bedroom” you spoke with confusion.

“I know”

Confusion clouded your mind for a moment until you realized he was opening the door to one of your guest rooms.

“Further from the girls, don’t wanna risk your pathetic noises waking them” he spat, his hands hastily pulling your leggings down.

Slotting himself between your thighs he began trailing soft kisses against the insides of your thighs, lips brushing right past your wet cotton panties.

“Seb, please” you begged.

“Hush Kleiner Hase” he smirked at the yearning whimper that broke from your throat at the name.

His torturing kisses continued along your skin, nipping and sucking along the skin coaxing whines and whimpers from you.

“Sebastian baby-please, I need you” you begged, hands running through his soft and overgrown curls.

“Your the one that asked for this baby, wanted me to take care of like I used to.” He tutted and as much as you wanted to argue he was right.

Sebastian hardly made you wait anymore, usually due to the fact that kids made it hard for you two to take your time.

Finally running his fingers over the elastic of your panties Sebastian hooked a finger in the material and pulled them down your legs.

“So wet for me” breathed, mouth watering at the sight of your dripping folds.

“Oh god seb please” you whined.

Your body was aching for him at this point, wanting nothing more than his body pressed against yours while he fucked you silly and made you come over and over again.

A groan left your husbands throat as he left kisses along your folds, his tongue teasingly running through them. Your body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth finally coming into contact with your cunt.

Your fingers gather his hair in a vice grip, pulling on the locks so hard it had Sebastian whimpering.

“Feels so good Seb” you heaved, body shivering as he ate you like a starved man.

His tongue ran along your folds, moving in multiple different patterns while his nose bumped and prodded against your clit.

Sebastian’s hands pinned your hips down as you attempted to grind against his face, a sharp slap against your skin letting you know to knock it off.

Your thighs shook as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten by the seconds, your moans getting louder and your tugs on Sebastian’s hair getting harder.

“M’ gonna-fuck, gonna cum seb” you cried out.

“Go on pretty girl, cum for me. Want you to cum all over my face.” He encouraged as he slipped two fingers inside you to help guide you to your high.

You arched your back, breath quivering as you came, thighs closing around Sebastian’s head drawing the man even closer to your cunt then before.

Broken sobs escaped your throat as you came down from your high, Sebastian left wet kisses along the skin of your lower stomach while his fingers continued to work you open.

“So pretty Schatz” he cooed in your ear before your body was flipped over and you were placed on your knees with your face shoved into the comforter.

You could feel him shuffling before the warm head of his cock was placed against your folds, teasingly running through the cum and spit covered skin.

Sebastian shuddered as he slipped inside, his hands gripping your hips so hard you knew there’d be bruises in their place tomorrow.

“My fucking god..” he growled at the way your walls hugged him.

He could hear your muffled cries as he kept up a brutal pace, the sounds of skin slapping mixing in with your shared moans filled the room.

Your breath hitched with every thrust, you could feel every ridge and vain as he split you open. His deeps grunts and growls making you clench even tighter around him.

“Ah-fuck. Seb it feels so good” you whimpered as he placed a foot onto the soft mattress to allow him a deeper angle over your body.

“Yeah? Like when I fuck you like a little slut?” He spat, leaning his body over your back to whisper in your ear.

The man got nothing but muffled cries in return as your body squirmed underneath his, your toes curling in pleasure as he fucked you deep.

“Clenching me so tight” he panted into your neck.

Your breath hitched at every thrust, the heat in your lower stomach getting hotter and hotter by the second.

“Se-oh!-m’ gonna cum” you stuttered.

He smirked at the way your body shook due to his movements, how you cried as his hand came down hard against your plump ass.

“Go on Meine Liebe, come all over my cock like a good whore” he taunted as his thrusts picked up and soon his hand was placed on the back of your head; shoving your face into the mattress.

Your mouth opened in a silent scream, body trembling, and toes curling as your climax washed over you. Your entire body shook as Sebastian kept going, his thrusts unforgiving as he chased a high of his own.

Grunts filled the room as Sebastian felt the familiar shiver run down his spine and he came deep inside you, your cunt milking him dry.

He smirked at the sight of your fucked out face when he turned your body over, tear tracks covered your red cheeks as you panted for air.

“So pretty Liebling” he shushed as he ran his thumb along your warm cheek.

“Tha-that was amazing” you laughed as you pulled his body down to press against yours.

“Yeah?” He smirked as he placed kisses along your neck.

“Mhm”

“I’m glad because I’m far from being done with you”

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slapmewithacroc

2 years ago

cleansing | nsfw

Connor (RK800) x Reader

synopsis: connor finds himself emotionally overwhelmed after going deviant, you’re here to help clear his head, and hopefully keep him thoughtless for a while.

warnings: very nsfw!! pegging, praise kink, android-human relationship, deviant connor.

word count: 1.5k

The Detroit night air smells of rain and smog, the streets wet with puddles and you can faintly hear draining water. You sat out on the balcony of your apartment, it was more of a fire escape really, but it still served as your tiny gated-in sanctuary. Your lips closed around a cigarette, a nasty habit you’d picked up from work of all places. It was unwise for officers to smoke- if they want to live long enough to enjoy their pension of course.

But after witnessing so many smoke breaks of higher-ups, and you being young, dumb, and easily influenced figured you’d try.

You inhaled, allowing smoke to fill your lungs before releasing it into a thin ring from your lips.

Soft music plays in the background, a mix of your favorite music artists serenading you in what could have been a lonely night for you in the past. But no longer, for you were expecting someone. You don’t remember the last time you’d done that… allowed yourself hope, allowed yourself to giddily wait at home to be accompanied by some boy like a teenage girl. But these past few months have been rather… odd. If someone told you androids would have raised and won a revolution within a week and more than half of Detroit’s human residents would flee from the city, you’d have had a good laugh.

You were one of the few humans that decided to remain. For good reason of course.

Your eyes light up when you see an android transport stop in front of your apartment complex, and a familiar face emerges from it. You snuffed out your cigarette and stumbled back into your apartment.

. . .

“You’re in your head again, Connor. Come back.” Your gentle voice calls, and surely enough Connor finds himself lost in thought, his LED glowing amber. He blinks several times before his chocolate gaze settles on you above him, your fingers stopping in the middle of undoing the buttons of his shirt. You sit back on his hips, lifting a hand to brush against his cheek, and the android leans into your touch. His troubled expression remains though, and you frown.

“Sorry, detective.” Connor breathes, eyes tipping towards the ceiling, trying to brush off your concern.

Keep reading

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slapmewithacroc

2 years ago

This man.

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slapmewithacroc

1 year ago

LOOKING AT HER| S.VETTEL

Author’s note; fuck off Amy.

Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x shy!girlfriend!reader

Summary; Reader has grown to love the feeling of Sebastian’s eyes on her but not everyone understands.

Warnings; fluff, suggestive towards the end, Amy’s a bitch.

F1 Master List

Sebastian always had a habit of looking at her, he just couldn't help himself, he found her so beautiful that it was impossible not to admire her. He didn't understand how he was so lucky to have someone so special as his girlfriend.

It had taken a while for Y/N to get used to his gaze, at first it had made her self conscious, she thought there was something about her appearance or her outfit which had caught his attention but every time she asked he always responded the same way.

"I’m just admiring how beautiful my girl is"

She eventually found herself being used to having his eyes on her, in fact she had grown to like it. It made her feel safe and secure knowing he was there and keeping an eye on her. It was like a comfort blanket to her now.

She did feel nervous under his gaze though, the good kind of nervous. Sebastian was always one for eye contact and his gaze was... intense. It was constantly making her flustered, she'd end up forgetting everything, her words, what she was meant to be doing, everything vanished for her when he was around, all she could think about was him.

Sebastian and Y/N were currently out for dinner with some of Y/N's friends, although the pair of them had been official for over 2 years now Seb hadn't really had the chance to meet her friends properly due to him travelling all the time and when he wasn't they were too caught up in making up for lost time to make plans.

Her friends had been shocked when Y/N who was known to be extremely shy and famous for keeping to herself announced that she had a boyfriend, they had already been dating for nearly a year when she had finally told them.

Imagine their surprise when their incredibly private friend revealed just who her boyfriend was; an extremely famous, successful and rich formula one racing driver.

Y/N was currently in the middle of a conversation with her 'best-friend' Amy when she felt her boyfriends beautiful eyes tracing over her body.

Sebastian thought she looked so beautiful, she has dressed up tonight into a long dress and heels. Obviously she looked beautiful all the time but that dress was really doing something.

It didn't take long for Y/N to get flustered, her cheeks had turned a blush pink and she looked down at the table as she tried to remember her words.

Sebastian smiled, he loved the effect he had on her, knowing that he could get her all riled up just from a simple glance was a huge ego booster.

"Why do you keep looking at her like that? Can't you see it's making her uncomfortable" The table went silent as everyone turned to look at Amy who had purposely made sure everyone heard her.

Sebastian was speechless when he saw that she was staring him down. Making her uncomfortable? He looked at Y/N who was in just as much disbelief as he was, staring at her friend, wide-eyed because she hadn't been uncomfortable at all and she really didn't appreciate her rude tone towards the man she loved.

"Excuse me?" Sebastian almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her accusation.

"You've been staring her down for the past 10 minutes and it's creepy, can you not see how awkward she feels? She's literally shifting around in her seat"

"Amy-" Y/N tried to protest, she usually wasn't one to speak up, preferring to keep out of drama but the way the girl in front of her was looking at Sebastian like he was a piece of shit wasn't sitting right with her at all, especially because he was quite literally the sweetest human she had ever met.

The table watched in tense silence as Amy continued to run her loud mouth which was making everyone feel uncomfortable.

"...Just because you're some rich bloke that drives around in fancy cars doesn't mean you have the right to stare at a woman like she's a piece of meat" Seb couldn't believe the audacity of the woman, she knew absolutely nothing about him.

It seemed Y/N was thinking the same thing because she slammed her hand down on the table "Shut up! You know absolutely nothing about Seb or me, clearly, so stop acting like you have the right to comment on him, his job or his actions"

She then turned to her boyfriend who's eyes were filled with pride "Can we go? I don't want to stay here with someone who had no respect for others"

Sebastian nodded, immediately standing from his seat, placing a couple bank notes down on the table to pay for their meal before grabbing his jacket and holding out his hand for her to take.

He ignored Amy's muttering of "Oh so you need to ask his permission to do what you want as well"

He said a polite goodbye to the rest of the table before the pair of them walked out of the restaurant.

Sebastian briefly glanced away from the the road and over to the passenger seat for the fifth time since they had gotten into the car, Y/N hadn't said anything since leaving the restaurant and it was starting to worry him.

She had sort of curled herself up into a ball, her knees pulled up to her chest with her feet resting on the edge of the seat as she stared blankly out of the window.

Sebastian wanted to tell her to sit up straight for her own safety but his worry for what she was thinking was a bigger priority to him at the moment.

"Liebling?" She only hummed in response which increased the worry he initially felt, she always responded properly to show he had her full attention, believing it was rude otherwise.

He hadn't been too bothered about Amy's words in the restaurant but with how quiet his girlfriend was being, he was starting to think that maybe Y/N agreed with her and maybe he did make her feel uncomfortable.

"Are you okay, schatz?" He asked. Y/N heaved out a heavy sigh as she sat up properly before turning to face him.

"I just hate how rude she was to you, she had no reason to speak to you like that and to do it in front of everyone in a public was just wrong, I'm sorry"

"Why are you apologising to me? You didn't do anything wrong, you handled it brilliantly" Sebastian reached over to grab her hand and link their fingers together, his thumb stroking along her hand hoping to provide some comfort.

"I know you went through the trouble to make sure you were free so we could go to dinner with them and now it's just wasted"

Sebastian shook his head "I didn't make sure I was free for the dinner, Y/N. I made sure I was free for you, you're more important to me than any interview or meeting"

Y/N smiled at his words, tightening her hold on his hand, he really was the perfect man.

"Can I ask you a question though?" He asked, seeing Y/N nodding her head out of the corner of his eye "Was she right?"

"What!?" Y/N couldn't believe the absurdity of his question "Not at all"

Sebastian bit his lip, not quite sure if she was just saying that so she wouldn't hurt his feeling "Are you sure? I'd hate to make you feel uncomfortable"

She couldn't help but giggle, nothing he did could ever make her uncomfortable, he was perfect. "You have never made me feel uncomfortable, Seb. I like feeling your eyes on me" she admitted.

Sebastian looked at her with a small smirk "yeah?"

Y/N nodded "Makes me feel sexy" she sheepishly said, turning back to the window to try and hide the blush on her cheeks.

"Oh, really?" She heard to teasing tone in his voice and internally rolled her eyes knowing he wouldn't let her live this down.

His ego had just grown about three times the size from her confession. It felt great knowing that he was able to make her feel so good without really doing anything. "Don't go all shy on me now, come on" he told her, tugging on her hand slightly.

"You're just going to hold it over my head now" she groaned but turned back to him as he wished.

"I promise I won't, I like that I make you feel good by something so simple" he said. The last part was true but he was totally going to hold it over her head.

"You always make me feel good" she whispered, tracing a finger over the veins on the back of his hand.

Sebastian heard her even though she spoke so quietly and felt like he could melt. What man didn't like hearing those words?

"How about I make you feel good when we get back home?" He asked, his tone suggesting anything but innocence.

Y/N's breath hitched knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Absolutely"

Sebastian smirked, turning his attention back to the road but he subtly pressed down on the accelerator.

He couldn't wait to get home.

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slapmewithacroc

2 years ago

𝐏𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐊: 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 — smut, semi-plot, afab!reader, blowjobs & riding, p in v, creampie, face-fucking, slight breeding kink, switch!peeta, overstimulation, squirting, fingering

peeta mellark is a loser.

you often wonder how your boyfriend always radiates charisma whenever he’s in public. infront of cameras, he’s charming, confident, keeps himself composed.

he’ll always keep things professional—even with you. the most you’ll get out of him during a social event is a chaste kiss or a soft peck on the cheek, denying you of anything more.

it amuses you, the way he puts up such an outgoing front—how he treats you like a coworker playing pretend lovers because he can’t keep his dick in his pants whenever you get too touchy.

just imagine the capitol’s reaction if they found out the ‘charming prince’ from district twelve was also just a whining bitch.

—

“what the hell was that?” peeta sighs as he drags you into the guest bedroom and locks the door behind you.

"i have no idea what you're on about." you whisper, a hint of mischief in your eyes.

“oh, so you just feeling up on me back there was nothing?” he scoffs.

“it was a light touch. it isn’t my fault you’re sensitive.” you hum, a grin tugging at your lips as you watch his breath hitch.

“the sponsers could’ve seen you.”

“but they didn’t.”

“they could’ve.”

“so what if they did? what’s so wrong with giving them a show? it’s what they want.” you refute, walking closer towards him.

“you—can't just wait till we get back, huh?” he sighs, gulping as you inch closer towards him.

“what did you expect, peeta? how can i keep my hands to myself when you just look so good tonight?” you mock, palming the evident bulge in his pants.

“we can’t—not now.” he sighs.

"we aren't even tonight's centre of attention. nobody will notice that we've left." you smile. your hands run up and down his tense thighs as you slowly place your knees on the carpet, gazing up at him with those doll-like eyes that you know drives him crazy.

“you don’t have to do this.” he whispers, his hand making his way down to your cheek as his fingers curled around your jaw—the pad of his thumb rubbing small, gentle circles across your skin.

“you know you won't make it through the night without my help.” you hum, unzipping his pants and pulling his member out. it’s already red and hard, precum leaking out the minute you palm it.

“aren’t you a little excited tonight?” you tease, placing soft kisses over its veins and along the sides.

“well you aren’t the only one that’s had to hold back all day.” he sighs, his hand finding a place around the top of your head.

he didn't do anything but watch as the end of your tongue slowly licked up the precum from his tip’s slit. he holds back a moan as you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly around your hair.

“fuck, you’re—ah—mmhph” he whimpered.

his words were shortly cut off the moment you take him into your mouth. never will he get used to just how warm you are when he's inside you. his cock pushes at the back of your throat as you swallow him whole, struggling to resist the urge to buck his hips into your wet mouth.

thankful for the lively crowd in the room next door, you listened to his quiet whimpers and moans. his eyebrows furrowed together in pleasure as he his puppy eyes stared down at you. more, is what his expression begged, and who were you to deny him of his need?

his hips slowly jerked and twitched as you bobbed your mouth up and down along his length, your moans vibrated onto him. it was cute, how he tried his best to keep his composure and not fuck your mouth dumb—but you wanted more. so, you gave him a reassuring look, pushing yourself as deep as you could go as he stared into your lustful eyes.

peeta had always been able to read you like a book, so it wasn't hard to understand your expression. if you were to so generously invite him to not hold back, who was he to refuse?

he experimentally rolls his hips into you, letting out a shuddering breath when he feels you swallow around him—his free hand laced into your hair. when you gag around him but still try to take him further, he thrusts deeper, his cock twitching. "fuck, you feel so—good—shit." he moans, quickening his pace.

"wait a minute—hah—don't want to—cum yet." you slowly pull back as he stops rolling his hips, trying to catch your breath.

as soon as you stood back up, he pulled you into a sloppy kiss, sliding his tongue slipping into your wet mouth as he tasted the flavour of your spit and his precum mixed with his own saliva. the two of you moaned and whined as your mouths pressed together. once the kiss had been going on for a while longer, he finally broke it and pulled you towards the bed.

"on the bed," he simply stated. you climbed onto the mattress and sat on your knees, waiting for his next instruction. instead of words, he drew you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his waist.

"lift yourself a little." he whispered, watching as you silently raised your hips. you sighed as your short dress was completely unzipped and thrown to the floor, your panties pushed down to your knees, completely exposing you to him.

“gotta make you feel good too.” he mumbles, his large hands rubbing up and down your inner thighs. you softly moan as he continues to tease you, rubbing right near your cunt but trailing his hand back down before actually touching you. you sigh in relief once his hand finally makes it's way up, softly rubbing against your clit and the folds of your cunt.

it’s embarrassing, how you’re already soaking wet and so welcoming to his fingers as they slowly enter you. you sigh as you feel his hand slowly fill you up, bottoming out. the moment his fingers started curling deep inside of you, your silent whimpers turned into growing moans.

“peeta—fuck, you’re so deep, oh my god—” you slurred, your thighs trembling as he picks up his pace. you begin to burst into loud moans the moment he begins thrusting them at an unspeakable pace. feeling so full, you cried out as his fingers plowed into you mercilessly. his hand snaked up to your mouth, muffling your sounds as he went faster.

“don’t be too loud unless you want everyone out there to hear us.” he whispers, replacing his hand with his mouth. you whimpered and cried, trying your best to keep all those pretty sounds inside as his fingers curled inside you, ramming your cunt at an unfathomable speed.

you could feel your climax as heat started to build up in your stomach. you were so, so close. and then, just as you were about to cum, there was nothing. he pulled out, denying you your release.

“don’t look at me like that, i’ll make sure to fill you up real good.” he whispers, taking off his top and removing his bottoms.

your bodies pressed against each other as you strattled yourself back onto him, the folds of your wet cunt rubbing against his leaking member.

“fuck, i’ll never get used to seeing this.” he hitched, placing his hands at your hips as the two of you grinded into each other.

“let me give you want you need, peeta.” you whisper, placing a soft kiss onto his cheek before pulling back. he only watches, his half-lidded puppy eyes following your every move as you palm his shaft, positioning yourself over him. you spread your legs and took your time pushing into him, burrying yourself deep inside, inch by inch.

“fuck—you're so wet.” he moans.

when you finally bottomed out, your hips took control and began painfully slowly riding him out while gradually increasing your pace. you wanted to watch his desperation escalate.

but it didn’t take long for his whimpers to turn into loud moans as he began whining your name. he started rolling his hips with yours, picking up the pace, and you weren't sure you could hold yourself up much longer.

his sloppy rolls turned into intense ramming as you continued to ride him. he thrusted into you, hitting that deep spot over and over again. you writhed in pleasure, letting out a loud moan. the unrelenting rhythm was everything, the feeling taking you to your peak.

“fuck, peeta! you’re too—mmph’—fast! fuck! oh my god—ah!” you cried, your legs shaking as you bobbed up and down his cock.

“you’re so tight, i need you so bad—i’m gonna—fuck—“ before he could finish his sentence, he pulled you down, suddenly flipping you over. your back was pressed against the mattress as he continued his thrusts.

“fuck—i think i need you for keeps.” he moaned, whimpering as he rammed into you.

“i’m gonna cum—peeta, wait—fuck!” you cried, suddenly feeling his hand press against your overstimulated clit, his fingers pressing down as he plowed into you. your hands pushed at his abs as you were on the verge of cumming.

“fuck, i need to—inside—ah—“ he slurred, his thrusts reaching the fastest he could possibly go. “let me cum inside you—give you my babies.”

“let’s give the capitol what they want—“ he moaned, applying more pressure onto your clit as he rammed into you.

“peeta! i'm—holy shit—fuck!" you could only scream as as you felt a giant gush of heat pool in your stomach. your entire body trembled as you began squirting on his dick—but peeta wouldn’t pull out, he only thrusted himself further into you as you continued your spasm.

“it feels so good!” you whined, feeling so full from his dick filling your cunt as you continued squirting.

"fuck." he moaned, feeling the juices of your cunt squelch inside and around him.

“don’t—don’t pull out—“ you cried, shaking as you gradually came down from your high, your juices slowly leaking out and soaking the mattress as his cock was still buried deep inside you.

your sighs were only interrupted by shrieks the moment peeta started thrusting into you again, overstimulating you after such a short rest.

“wait—ah—fuck! i can’t—it's too much!” you slurred, watching as your juices continued to squirt out every time he thrusted into you.

“i’m—i’m gonna cum—mmph—ah—come on, please, cum with me again, please—” he whined, rutting into you like an animal. as he felt you tighten onto him once again, he pulled you into a kiss, his tongue swirling around yours as his hand pushed your back up, your whole bodies fully pressed against each other as he fucked you stupid.

you whimpered against his mouth as the heat began to build up once more, but his lips muffling your moans as you squirted around him for the second time. his cock stuffed you, slowly grinding but never fully leaving your cunt as the squelches of your wetness slowly squirted out everytime he thrusted.

peeta only let out a long moan as he came inside you, followed by whines and whimpers as the two of you riding your highs together.

once the two of you finally relaxed, peeta pulled out. you watched as a gush of your liquid spilled out of you, his semen slowly seeping out and dripping down your cunt.

“i should provoke you more often.” you weakly sigh, brushing the hair out out of your face with your fingers. he only scoffs as he pulls you into a soft kiss that felt both pure and gentle.

you wondered how long the two of you were gone for from the event, but you had bigger things to worry about—like how in the world you’ll possibly be able to even walk back home.

a/n: i don’t use this blog regularly, just had to post this because there is an INSANE lack of peeta smut it’s disrespectful. there’s probably some typos since it’s not proofread hehehe

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slapmewithacroc

2 years ago

little treasures, life's pleasures

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Now that Soap knows when to pay attention, he realizes you and Ghost aren't as subtle as you think you are. Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters. part one.

You don’t use your married name, Soap discovers.

Honestly, he gets it; Simon Riley is allegedly dead to the world with a seemingly endless list of enemies who’d love to get their hands on anything they could use to bring down The Ghost and, based on what Soap saw in your file, you’ve acquired quite the list of enemies yourself. If he were in either of your shoes, Soap would probably do the same.

He stands to the side, leaning with his back to the wall as Price talks about…something? Soap knows he should be paying attention- he had fully intended to, he swears- but then you and Ghost showed up, sitting down right next to each other. There’s an appropriate amount of distance between your chairs, but at the top of the meeting, Ghost folds his arms and leans back, long legs spread just wide enough for his knee to lightly tap against yours, and Soap immediately loses all interest in everything else.

He keeps his eyes on Price, giving the illusion that he’s listening, but angles his head just enough to see you and Ghost through his peripherals. You’re both staring straight ahead, fully focused on whatever Price is talking about, but every so often Ghost shifts just so and nudges his knee against yours. It’s a subtle movement, not something you’d notice if you weren’t looking for it, and happens once every fifteen minutes or so.

Around the forty-five-minute mark, Price asks you a question and you lean forward, answering to the best of your knowledge. Ghost shifts, sitting up a little straighter, watching as you and Price go back and forth. When you’ve finished talking, and Price is satisfied with your answers, you lean back in your chair and Soap sees Ghost's knee nudge against yours once more. He catches your quick glance over to Ghost, though he’s back to paying attention to Price, and the way you try to hide your smile by pretending to scratch the tip of your nose.

The next time Ghost shifts, you meet him in the middle and set your knee against his, staying that way for the remainder of the meeting.

If Soap thought Ghost's hovering was bad when you were recovering from your leg injury after Las Almas, he doesn’t want to know what Ghost will be like after this.

He’ll probably move his bed into the infirmary, Soap laughs to himself as he wraps bandages around your poorly patched head. The ambush had taken the team by surprise, with a private quickly ushering you away for safety. Unfortunately, “safety” turned out to be in the direct line of an oncoming grenade and the ensuing explosion knocked you head-first into a nearby humvee.

You don’t remember much after that. At some point after the fight, you're picked up, then placed in the passenger seat of the humvee. Someone orders you to talk Soap through bandaging the bleeding slice on the side of your head before Soap appears holding a roll of gauze and a canteen of water.

(Soap assumes it’s to give you something to concentrate on so you don’t fall asleep and worsen your concussion, but you know it’s so Ghost can find the private in charge of your safety and give him the dressing down of a lifetime.)

“You’re wrapping my eye, Soap,” you groan, leaning slightly away from him. He curses under his breath, unraveling the last loop of bandages.

“Sorry, Doc. Not as good at this as you,” Soap jokes.

“You were doing fine until you tried to turn me into a pirate.” Soap scoffs in mock offense and playfully nudges your shoulder. He readjusts the bandage near your left ear, moving it up just slightly when he sees the thin black lines peeking out from the bottom. Curiosity overtakes him, as he “adjusts” your bandages again, lifting the bottom to reveal a simple outline of a skull he knows all too well tattooed in black ink just behind your ear.

“How’re we doing?”

Soap slides the bandage back down at the sudden sound of Ghost’s voice as the Lieutenant approaches the humvee.

“All good to go,” Soap says, clapping his hands and stepping back. You feel around the bandages, humming in satisfaction.

“Not bad, Soap,” you smile at him, “keep practicing and you might put me out of a job.” You give him a wink before pushing forward to stand on your feet. You stumble only a little, using the humvee door for balance and Soap doesn’t miss the slight way Ghost’s hands flinch to help you before you right yourself.

“Five minutes and I’ll be ready to move,” you nod to Ghost.

“I’ll hold you to that.” There’s a brief moment, where Ghost’s intense gaze focuses directly on you, eyes moving back and forth between your head wound and your face. His shoulders tense, hands flexing into fists before he looks towards Soap and the moment’s gone.

“Let’s go, Sergeant,” Ghost calls, walking past Soap towards the other vehicles. Soap follows, turning back just once to see the private who had been with you approach you sheepishly, eyes cast down at the ground. You set a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, saying something Soap’s too far away to hear, and turn to lead him back to your vehicle.

It isn’t his intention to end up in the infirmary first thing in the morning, but Soap’s day seems to be off to a particularly shitty start as he wakes up with the mother of all migraines. He’s tempted to power through it, but as soon as he sits up the world spins, and feels so nauseous he considers it a miracle he didn’t immediately puke right there.

It takes him a while to make his way to the infirmary, but he gets there without incident. One hand rubbing his temple, Soap leans forward to push the infirmary door open. It swings open before he can reach the crash bar and he nearly falls forward, almost colliding into Ghost.

“Screamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap curses, stepping back to allow Ghost out of the infirmary.

“You alright, Johnny?”

“‘m fine, Lt,” Soap sighs, giving Ghost a half-smile and lazy thumbs-up. Ghost doesn’t seem to believe him, but then again, Ghost’s face is just like that so Soap’s not sure if his excuse works. “Just wanted to say mornin’ to the Doc.”

“Right…” Ghost’s eyes travel over Soap, narrowing slightly as he looks back up at Soap’s face. His eyes seem darker, Soap thinks, and when he looks closer he notices the crease of fresh paint on Ghost’s eyelids. They stand for a moment, silently scrutinizing each other before Soap breaks the tension.

“You been up a while?” Soap asks even though he knows the answer. It’s not uncommon in their line of work to have uneven sleep patterns, but Ghost has one of the most fucked up sleeping schedule Soap has ever seen; Soap isn’t sure he’s ever actually seen Ghost sleep for more than a thirty-minute power nap.

“For a few hours. The Doc needed my help with something,” Ghost shrugs, “heading down to the practice range now, if you care to join?”

“Sure, I’ll be there in a bit.”

Ghost nods, starting down the hallway, “Take your time,” he calls back towards Soap, “no sense in rushing. We both know I'm the better shot anyways.”

Cheeky fucker.

Soap rolls his eyes, pushing the infirmary door open and stepping inside. He finds you at your desk in the back, sorting through reports, and sipping from a small mug filled with steaming tea.

“Mornin’, Doc.” You look up in surprise, smiling as Soap pulls up a chair on the other side of your desk.

“Good morning! Something I can help you with?”

“Got anything for a migraine?”

“Ouch,” you grimace at him, “lemme see what I got for you.” You down the rest of your tea, setting the mug back on your desk as you begin rifling through the drawers. Soap exhales in relief, scrubbing a hand down his face and pressing into his closed eyes to try and distract from the pain. He opens one eye as you hum, but you’re still looking through your desk, picking through pill bottles.

Soap takes the time to look over your desk; you have a system of organized chaos composed of stacks of folders, sticky notes, two mugs, an impressive collection of colorful paperclips, a pile of labeled pens, and-

-Wait.

He looks back, checking to make sure he isn’t seeing things, and, yes, two empty mugs are sitting atop your desk. He knows which one is yours- it’s the same one you always use- the adorably round one painted to look like a sheet ghost (a joke Soap is just now getting), but the solid black one next to yours is unfamiliar.

“Aha!” You find the bottle you’re looking for and hold it out to Soap. “Take two of these, and grab some food. It should kick in in about thirty minutes to an hour.” Soap reaches to grab the pill bottle, but his attention is pulled towards your hand that appears to be smeared with a black…something? He takes the bottle and examines the faint black fingerprints staining the orange plastic.

“What happened?” he asks, nodding toward your hands.

“Oh!” You examine your hands, rubbing some of the excess stuff off. “One of my pens broke and the ink got everywhere. I thought I got all of it, sorry-” Soap shrugs noncommittally, “-guess we’re both having one of those mornings, huh? Here, let me get you some water to take those with.” You stand, grab both mugs, and disappear to the other side of the infirmary. Soap pops the pill bottle open, eyes roaming over your desk as he fishes out two of the chalky blue pills.

With the mugs gone, he has a better view of the right side of your desk and, more importantly, what had been sitting behind them: an opened and well-used circular tin of standard-issue black camouflage face paint. He doesn’t know how he didn’t put two-and-two together as soon as he saw your hands, but he’ll blame the migraine in this case.

The Doc asked me to help with something, my arse.

It’s one of the hottest days on record so, of course, it only stands that today would be the day for the A/C to go out.

You’ve had more people coming in and out of your infirmary in the last six hours than you’ve had in the past six months. Handing out ice packs like candy on Halloween and treating multiple cases of almost-heat stroke, you’ve been nothing short of slammed since you walked into the infirmary this morning. Like everyone else, you’re miserable in the sweltering heat, your jacket hanging wide open and sleeves rolled up above your elbows. It does little to help.

“Got a delivery for you, Doc,” Soap calls out, waltzing into the infirmary during the first lull you’ve had since morning. He holds out a tall thermos, shaking it so you can hear something sloshing inside. He’s abandoned his ACU jacket, standing there in a black cotton beater, smiling widely, but you can see the beads of sweat rolling down his face and collecting on his collarbone. “Ice water, fresh from the mess.”

“John MacTavish, you are my hero.” You snatch the thermos from his hands, gulping down the chilling water and letting out an obscene groan.

“Well, it’s nice to finally be appreciated,” Soap winks. You hum, flopping down into an empty chair and leaning back to take another swig from the thermos.

“Any word on the A/C?” you ask between frantic sips. Once you’ve had your fill, you hold the thermos loosely in your hand as you lean back in your chair.

“Nothing yet. Price said…” Soap trails off as you grab the collar of your own beater and pull at it in a poor attempt to fan yourself. It’s not so much the action that catches his attention, but the small metal chain around your neck with two solid black rings hanging from it. Soap’s never been married before, but he knows a wedding ring when he sees one. Though the fact you’re wearing both rings only leads to more questions. He supposes Ghost has never seemed the type to wear jewelry. Then again, Ghost never seemed the type for marriage, either.

“Price said…?”

“Huh?” Soap snaps his eyes back up to your face, praying that you hadn’t just caught him staring near your chest, but you have your head leaned back with your eyes shut tight and the frigid metal of the thermos pressed against your forehead.

“You said, Price said…and then stopped?”

“Right! Right, yeah, he said it should be fixed by this evening.” You groan in disgust and sluggishly sit up in your chair. You move the thermos from your forehead to your neck, sighing as the chilled metal meets your overheated skin, but all Soap can focus on is the necklace that now hangs outside of your shirt. The rings clink together softly as you move, setting the thermos down and wiping the sweat from your brow.

“I-”

Soap turns as the doors swing open and another medic rushes in. “Incoming, Doc: two more passed out on the practice range!”

Soap turns back to you and finds the necklace tucked back into your shirt as you chug the last of your water. You toss him the empty thermos with a thankful smile.

“No rest for the wicked, eh Soap?”

Missions don’t often go wrong for the 141, but it does happen on occasion. However, they’ve never had a mission end with this many injured before.

You already dismissed Price, his injuries treated with strict orders for three days of bed rest, at least. Gaz had been a bit more extensive and, while you were tempted to keep him overnight, he assured you he was fine enough to sleep in his own cot. You let him go but stressed that if he felt off in any sort of way, to hightail it back to the infirmary.

Which left Ghost and Soap. Between the two of them, it took you and two other medics a full thirty-six hours to finally get them stable and it was another full day before either of them woke up. You let them rest, waiting until they’ve gotten enough strength to be relatively back to normal before you tell the other medics you’ll take over and they can worry about other patients.

You wait until the three of you are alone to lay into them, a week’s worth of built-up frustration, stress, and worry spilling out of you.

“Why is it always you two? I swear, every heli Price gets in is shot down and crashes in some fiery explosion, and still, you two manage to outdo any injury he’s ever gotten!”

Soap, at least, has the sense to look ashamed as you pace around the room, airing every grievance you can think of. Ghost’s eyes follow your every step, but he says nothing, taking every insult you throw. Your rant lasts for nearly an hour before you collapse into a chair and cover your face with your hands, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyelids. They can hear you taking deep breaths, counting backward from ten under your breath.

“Sorry for worryin’ ya, Doc,” Soap speaks softly. You sigh, dropping your hands to your lap.

“S’alright, I just…want you to be more careful.” You don’t look at either of them as you sit up, one hand coming up to massage your neck. Guilt crawls up his spine as Soap takes in the deep bags under your eyes and the weighted hunch of your shoulders. “Try and get some rest, both of you. We’ll see how you’re feeling in the morning.” With that, you head back to your desk, busying yourself with catching up on reports.

He isn’t sure what wakes him, but when Soap opens his eyes, it’s nearly pitch black with the clock reading 3:11 a.m. in bright red. He shifts, trying not to tear his stitches as he gets more comfortable, and turns to his right to check on Ghost. He finds the curtain between their beds drawn just enough so that he can barely see Ghost’s head from where he’s laying and a soft light from one of the bedside lamps glowing behind it.

“Two’s the perfect number, in my opinion.” That’s your voice, murmuring softly from the other side of the curtain. Quietly, and carefully, Soap pushes himself up further in his bed, sitting up so he can angle his head to see around the curtain. When he does, he immediately sinks his teeth into his cheek to keep from making noise.

Ghost is sitting up, propped up by an army of pillows and you’re sitting on a low stool on the right side of his bed with your back to him so you can stretch back and lay your head in his lap. His right hand is draped over you, lightly running his fingers over the set of rings on your necklace as you talk.

“I think three would be too many, plus then we’d have to deal with the whole middle child syndrome thing.”

…what are you talking about?

“Two’s it for you, huh?” Ghost asks, the tiredness evident in his already gruff voice.

“Yeah-” you turn your head and smile up at him, “-a boy and a girl. Not sure about names, though. For a girl, I was originally thinking Kate, after Laswell, but the more I think about it, the less sure I am about it. Then I was thinking we could name her after one of the guys, but the only one whose name would even work would be Kyle’s; we could turn that into Kylie. What do you think?” There’s a long silence as Ghost stares down at the rings sitting against your chest. It lasts so long, Soap starts to think Ghost has fallen asleep when the man suddenly gathers the rings in his hand, staring down at the black metal in his palm.

“Spent a lot of time thinking about this, have you?” he asks. When you don’t answer, he calls your name, quiet but firm, and you sigh.

“It’s just a fantasy,” you whisper, ”like how people talk about what they’ll do when they win the lottery.”

“So, you don’t want-”

“With you, of course, I do.” One of your hands slides gently up his torso, stopping at the extensive bandages wrapped around his chest, while the other absently fiddles with the hair on the left side of your head, skirting over the scar left by the humvee. “But do you honestly think we’ll live long enough for it to happen?”

The room lapses into silence, the only sound a soft echo of the ticking clock beside Soap’s bed. I shouldn’t be listening to this, Soap thinks to himself. He carefully maneuvers himself back down the bed, going even further to lay facing away from the curtain, and you, and Ghost, and any talks of children and impossible futures. He squeezes his eyes shut in a futile attempt at sleep, but his mind is going a million miles a minute and Soap knows he won’t be sleeping for the rest of the night.

Several long minutes pass by in the quiet dark, before Ghost speaks again, “What would you name him?”

“Hm?”

“The boy, what would you name him?”

Your answer is instant.

“Thomas.”

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