slowly loosing it

When they found out about your relationship, all of them had their opinions. Carol wasn’t surprised, Maggie and Glenn were surprisingly supportive, michonne kept mostly quiet minding her own business but respected your relationship and Rick….well Rick didn’t care after he (in Glenn’s words) went to crazy town mourning Lori's death.

It wasn’t them, believe it or not, they somehow expected it. It was the other people in the prison.

Daryl saves multiple people and brings them back to the safety of prison, giving them food and shelter, it wouldn’t be a surprise if some of them developed a crush on him.

When they found out about you, practically a ‘teen’ dating Daryl they laughed at the absurdity. Other than them the older people with their ‘morals’ judged you.

It wasn't unusual to hear whispers when you both walked together or find heinous rumors about you two.

Honestly? You didn’t give a fuck. Let them hate, 'cause, at the end of the day, Daryl is yours.

While doing your chores, you passed two women whispering amongst themselves while looking at you. You rolled your eyes at the scene, already knowing what the topic of their gossip was.

“I heard she used to be a whore, that’s why he dates her for fun.” one of them whispers

“he deserves better.” the other shakes her head.

“hey Daryl!” you called your boyfriend. Hearing this, both the women stopped whispering.

Daryl walked up to you, “Yeah, what’s up?”

You smiled, glanced at the women and leaned in before kissing Daryl. It was a full-on makeout session. The kiss was hungry, passionate and intense.

After a good few minutes, you broke the kiss.

“What was that for?” Daryl asked, touching his lips.

“Nothing I just love you,” you said before pecking his lips and turning to the other direction. From the corner of your eye, you could see the two women sitting with their mouths hung wide open.

A few days later, you were tending to one of the senior citizens in his cell, he wasn't your typical sweet, caring, supportive grandpa. He was creepy, hating and despite his age, very immature grandpa.

“is he forcing you?” the grandpa asked while you wrapped the bandage around his arm.

“Sorry?” you knew what he meant, just didn't want to acknowledge it.

“Daryl, he grooming you?”

You sighed before looking up into his eyes, “I am an adult, you know?”

“Trust me, child, this isn’t want you wan-” Before he could finish he was moaning in pain due to you pressing his wound.

“I think I know what I want, so instead of focusing on my life focus on yours or you will be the next walker bait,” you said releasing his arm and standing up.

“Don't pretend we don't notice you looking wrong at the girls of the group, you sick bastard.”

You left his cell block and took a deep breath, it was getting tiring. You went to find Daryl to clear your mind, he was talking with Carol while the entire group was having their lunch.

When he saw you, he walked towards you and noticed the tired look on your face. “What’s with the look?”

“Nothing.” you shook your head tiredly smiling up at him.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he asked holding your face and searching for your eyes. “is it about us again?”

You nodded finally meeting his gaze. He backed up a little and looked at the table where everyone sat.

“All alright, listen up everybody!” he walked to the table.

You followed behind, not expecting this, “Daryl, what are you-“

“Look, me and Y/N, we’re together, and yeah, it’s mutual. I didn’t pressure her into anything. She’s a grown woman, and she’s more than capable of making her own decisions. Don’t think for a second she’s some helpless kid, you’ve all seen how strong she is, how she handles herself. I’ve known her long enough to know she’s tougher than most of ya combined. She’s got a good heart too. The way she thinks, the way she cares, she’s one of the most thoughtful, kind hearted people I’ve ever met.

So, if any of you got a problem with it, don’t go behind her back or talk shit. You come to me, man to man, and we’ll sort it out. I ain’t got time for drama, but I will stand by her, and I won’t let anyone disrespect her. Got it?”

By the end of his speech, everyone had mixed reactions, some were happy for you, some were jealous, and some were confused. But one thing was for sure, now the whispers and the rumours would die down.

Daryl gave them a look and walked back towards you. “It ain't gonna be a problem, no more.”

You smiled at him lovingly before kissing him, few hoots and cheers could be heard from your friends supporting you.

“thank you”

“Cookies?”

The look Daryl gives you actually makes you crack a smile, and it’s a nice feeling. It’s been a long time since you smiled, now that you think about it - but it’s not like you’re keeping score. 

Because if you were - you’d probably be able to count the amount of grins that’ve graced your face in the last eight months on one hand. Life has been brutal to everyone this year.

“I know it sounds weird,” you explain, crossing your legs on the rock you’re sitting on. Daryl’s supposed to be keeping watch of the camp while Rick and a few other men from the group make a run into the neighboring town for supplies. The plan was, because even the smallest things need well thought out plans in this world, that the women and children of the camp would rest, and if Daryl saw any walkers, he’d wake everyone up. 

Sort of dumb, in theory, with how fast things happen when walkers are added to the equation, but it’s all this group has got. 

Plans and Rick’s hope. 

You’re supposed to be resting too, since yesterday was a travel day - long and exhausting. But you can’t sleep. You’ve got a headache, you’re hungry, and your sleeping bag is still a little damp from your water bottle, the plastic gone thin from having been dropped too many times, breaking while you drove from your last destination. Your tent is cold and you’re sharing it with a single woman who has a child, and their crying is really starting to bum you out. 

So you decided to join Daryl keeping watch. He’s perched on a little ledge that overlooks the rest of the camp, able to see anything coming or going before anyone on the ground can. You’re not great with a gun, but since the world went to shit, you can handle yourself pretty well.

You want to help protect the camp and everyone in it, especially since you asked Rick to pick up another reusable water bottle for you while he was in town. The look on his face was so priceless it actually made you a little sad. 

“Doesn’t just sound weird,” Daryl replies, shifting to get more comfortable on the grassy ground. There’s another rock for him to sit on, but it’s something you’ve noticed about him - Daryl always chooses to sit close to the ground, even if there’s a proper place for him to sit. “It is weird,” he grumbles the last part, busying himself with chucking a rock a few feet away while a squirrel scampers up a tree. He curses under his breath, no doubt pissed at himself for not securing another meal. 

You’re distracting him. You should feel bad, but you don’t. 

Before walkers and the end of the world as you knew it, you used to be so concerned with manners. Worried about what others thought about you more than you worried about your own well being. You’re not like that anymore. It’s a dark, although funny thought - that it took something as drastic as an apocalypse to finally rid you of your people pleasing habit. 

There’s a crunching sound a few yards away that has the both of you tensing up, frozen while you listen for the sound of growling, but it never comes. Daryl visibly relaxes after a minute, which is your cue to start talking again. He just listens, although from the angle you’re sitting at, you swear you see him roll his eyes. 

“You ever think about how weird it is, the stuff we miss?” You ask, but you already know he’s not going to reply. Daryl rarely replies, but you know he’s listening. You don’t have any real proof that he is - but what else would he be doing while you chat his ear off? He can stand up for himself, doesn’t do anything he doesn’t want to do - if he didn’t want you talking to him, he’d tell you to fuck off. 

It’s a small victory you hold close to your heart - the fact that he just puts up with you. You continue. “I mean, everyone always says they miss things like hot showers, electricity, or whatever. I do, but I guess it’s not the thing I miss the most. For me, it’s cookies. But not bakery cookies. The kind of cookies you get from the store, the cheap ones. When you flatten the cookie dough yourself, and no matter what, always burn them or undercook them,” as you talk about it, you can taste the ghost of cookies past on your tongue. It waters a little, your mouth, which goes to show you just how hungry you are. 

All you eat these days are protein bars and uncooked cans of whatever food the group can find. Sometimes, with your eyes closed and your breath held, you’ll try bits of squirrel or owl or whatever other animal Daryl hunts and shares with the group, but even the thought makes you nauseated. You never knew you’d be able to have preferences when the other choice is starving to death, but the difficult human spirit prevails, you suppose. 

Daryl glances at you, and although it’s pretty dark, the moon shines light enough that you can see his expression. You’d expect his face to be mean, aggravated - tired. Listening to a young woman ramble about baking cookies while his body is on high alert to protect an entire fucking camp - but instead, Daryl’s expression is soft. He lets you continue, although his reaction does remind you that you’re also on guard. But aren’t you always?

The gun strapped to your hip and the knife in the pocket of your boot feel extra heavy at the reminder. 

You clear your throat, trying to keep your voice low. God forbid a fucking walker kills you or anyone else in this group because you couldn’t shut up about cookies. 

“Maybe it’s stupid, you know? I just,” you look down, playing with the zipper on your jacket. Suddenly, you feel really embarrassed. On the spot. Daryl probably thinks you’re a fucking idiot. Your face heats up. 

But it’s not just the cookies. You leave out the part where the cookies remind you of your parents. How your mom, when she was alive, used to make them for you after a rough day. That those cookies were the staple of every sleepover you’ve ever had with your best friends. How those cookies were -

“It ain’t,” Daryl’s voice takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him, brows furrowed. You catch his eyes for only a second, before he looks away quickly, pretending to be occupied by something on the dirty ground. “It ain’t stupid,” he finishes. 

You wonder that night, after Rick and the others come back to relieve you and Daryl of your duty, while you’re laid up in your sleeping bag that hardly protects you from the cold - what does Daryl miss? Sure, out of everyone in the group, he’s most equipped at living this kind of life. Knows how to hunt, can stomach raw fucking meat, isn’t scared of anything, or so he says. What reminds him of home? What thoughts comfort him?

Surely, whatever those thoughts are, they’re not as dumb as store bought cookie dough. 

But what Daryl said stuck with you. Not stupid. You fall asleep, albeit with one eye open, feeling a little less cold. 

Because for a moment, Daryl’s understanding?

It made the world feel a little less broken.

────

“Gross,” you mutter, blood slashing on your face. You just shot a walker in the head, and your ears are ringing from the loud noise of the gun. You’ll never get used to firing that thing. How loud it is, the way your hand shakes even minutes after you pull the trigger.

Daryl comes from behind you, and he lets out a laugh. It’s low, short - if you weren’t trained to hear the noise, you’d miss it. Because really - it’s like you’ve literally trained yourself to look for little cues that Daryl is having a good time. Or, since you doubt anyone these days is having a good time, at least that he’s alright. That he’s not annoyed at you for hanging around him or talking to him or irritated at your presence in general. 

“Blood on your face grosses you out, but you’ll pick through walker guts for a bottle of nail polish,” he shakes his head, but it's not like he’s judging. In fact, Daryl actually seems a little…fond? He’s teasing you, and normally the reputation you have in this group as a girl that’s afraid to get her hands dirty, too girly to do anything for yourself - it stings. 

But not when it comes from Daryl. You can tell he’s teasing, and you roll your eyes playfully. 

“Didn’t dig in walker guts for that nail polish,” you remind him, even as he walks past you to lead the way. You glance at his back, the angel wings on his leather vest, and will yourself to stop the heat rushing to your face and the arousal pooling in your belly at how fucking strong he is. Big arms, muscles that look like he should be on the cover of a body building magazine instead of in these creepy woods with a crossbow. You gulp. “There was a little blood in the nail polish section when we did a run the other day. I cleaned it off the bottle I wanted. No biggie.”

Daryl scoffs, and you smile. “Yer crazy, girl,” he replies, and at that you look down at your nails. Baby pink, the same color you always used to choose when you’d get your nails done back at home. You could shiver with pleasure, just from thinking about the feeling of warm water on your hands, someone paying special attention to your cuticles - lotion, that you don't have to share with every other woman at the camp. The polish you’re wearing, painted just two days ago, is chipped and stained red with walker blood, but it’s better than nothing. 

Makes you feel a little more human. A little more like a woman. A little more like yourself.

Now, if only you could find some hairspray and a razor. 

You’ve been joining Daryl whenever he lets you - or, more truthfully, whenever Rick tells Daryl it’s okay for you to join him. Rick still doesn’t believe that you know what you’re doing, thinks of you as a liability, but you’re determined to prove yourself. You got to go on a run the other day, and today, Daryl went to check out the perimeter of the grassy hill the group is currently camping in, and you volunteered to go with him. 

“You sure?” Rick had asked when the plan was originally made, looking at Daryl with squinted eyes. He pretended like you didn’t exist, even as you were standing right next to him. Daryl nodded. “S’okay with me. I’ll look out for her. Bring yer gun,” he told you, and you nodded, skipping after him down the trail. 

Around Daryl, and maybe this is why you like him so much - it’s easy to feel like a woman. Easy to feel safe, too. Daryl just knows what he’s doing, and he’s so strong, big, can handle so much. Being around him feels good, but you know it’s all just a farce. 

You’re not safe and neither is Daryl, a fact that becomes even clearer when you almost trip on a dead body by a stream you’re both passing on the way back to camp, alerting a walker that was only a few yards away. Daryl was able to kill him with an arrow, but it was a close call. 

One minute, laughing and talking. The next, like you’re begging death to open the door after ringing his doorbell a few too many times. 

You walk back to camp in silence, walker blood splattered on the both of you. When you get back, it’s nearly dark, and you help a few of the other women finish some laundry and keep an eye on a few restless kids. Life sucks in this world as an adult - but you can’t imagine living like this as a kid. Although, you think, watching them throw dirt at each other and believe the food their mothers are giving them really tastes just like chicken nuggets, maybe being so clueless is for the best. 

After dinner, on your way to your tent, you see Rick and Daryl talking. You try to listen in, pretending that you’re just getting your sleeping bag ready for bed, but you don’t hear anything of importance. Meaning, you don’t hear either of them bring up your name. You feel like a highschooler, desperate for friends, eager to belong - hoping your crush notices you. 

Because that’s what this is with Daryl, isn’t it? You’ve got a crush on him. Butterflies, wanting his attention, looking for excuses to be around him. It’s pathetic but a little beautiful, you admit - that even in a situation like this, where death surrounds every person, no matter who they are - there’s room in the human spirit for a little love. 

A crush, you think again, fixing your nails in your tent. You can almost convince yourself that life isn’t so horrible, just for a minute, until the woman you share your tent with comes in for bed and complains that the smell of the polish is too strong and makes it hard for her to sleep. 

Okay, bitch, you say in your head. It’s not like the walker guts and dead bodies beyond our tent smell any better. You bite your tongue and walk out of the tent, making your way to the empty clearing a little ways away from the tents. It’s so quiet, there’s no way you wouldn’t hear a walker if one was to come around you, but you have a knife on you just in case. No gun, since the noise would just draw more to you. 

You think these things through. You just wish Rick, and the rest of the group, would see that too. 

It’s dark, except for the moon and the stars shining pretty above you. Maybe the little fact you read online years ago about the environment is true - people are the cause of everything bad and all the pollution. A little more than half a year into the apocalypse, and there’s no smog clogging up the skies. It’s a gorgeous night. 

You sit with your hands flat on the ground, waiting for your nails to dry. You get a good few minutes of silence, until the noise of footsteps has you nearly jumping out of your boots, reaching for your knife, only to realize that it’s not a walker, but Daryl coming to plop down next to you.  

“Gosh, Daryl. You scared me,” you complain, letting out a whine. He doesn’t say anything, just sits next to you on the ground, although he moves so his back is facing your back. Makes sense, so you're both safe from all angles. Daryl always thinks about little things like that. 

He’s quiet for long enough that you start to think of something to fill the silence. “Damnit,” you mutter, letting out a huff. “I ruined my nails.”

“Oh, quit it,” Daryl replies. “Whatcha doin’ out here all by yerself? You got a death wish, girl?” You’re mortified that Daryl is scolding you like you’re a kid, like you’re an idiot, and coming from him it just hurts even more. 

You’ve always had an even temper, but in this new world, you lose it more often than you used to. It’s probably just the way life is now - the stress, the hunger, the cold and the dirt and the sweat and the lack of anything that used to bring anyone joy. It makes everyone crazy. 

“Yeah, well - ‘m sure your buddy Rick hopes a walker gets to me. Know he was talking shit about me earlier.” You sniffle, but you’re not crying yet - it just really hurts, that you feel like such dead weight at this camp. You’ve never really been insecure, but you feel like nobody likes you. Nobody understands you. And yeah, surviving is more important than being miss popular with a group of people in the apocalypse, but everyone’s always talking about this group being family. Does that include you? It doesn’t feel like it these days. 

Daryl is silent, as you expected. Normally you don’t mind the company, even if it’s a mute one, but tonight you’re feeling on edge. Until Daryl speaks. “Rick ain’t my friend. No one wants you to die, kid. Yer too much,” he mutters, and then you stand up, aggravated and not wanting to take it out on him. 

You begin to walk away when Daryl reaches out and grabs your ankle to stop you. “Daryl,” you warn, as if you’d do anything to retaliate even if he pulled you on the ground with him. But you keep up the hard ass attitude - it feels good, you admit, being difficult for once. You don’t get to be anything but accommodating at camp. 

“Rick and I were sayin’ how valuable you are to the group. How much you’ve grown,” he explains, and you roll your eyes, make a show of stomping away, knowing, loving that Daryl is right on your heels. Because there’s no reason for him to stay in that clearing - he’s not on watch tonight. He was only hanging around there for you. 

Despite acting like Rick’s comment meant nothing to you, on the inside, as you walk to your tent, you fight a smile. So Rick has noticed your effort. That’s all you wanted, except - 

You realize that maybe approval you wanted so badly never needed to come from Rick - 

Because the approval from Daryl feels pretty damn good.

────

Daryl fixes you with a look that makes you burst out laughing. 

You’ve only been at this spot in the woods for a few weeks, but so far, quality of life among the camp has improved. Almost a year in this new world, and this is the first time anyone’s ever slept with both eyes closed since before people turned into the living dead. There’s a river nearby perfect for fishing, and tonight at the campfire, you had your first taste of - what did Daryl call it?

Sushi.

“Just so you know,” you say, crossing a leg over the other on the little log you’re sitting on. The sun is going down, and the sky is a pretty shade of pink and even a little purple. You wonder if nature has always been this beautiful - you’d always just been too preoccupied to see it. You put a tiny piece of the fish Daryl caught and cooked into your mouth, surprised at the taste. You don’t have to fake your reaction. It’s not bad at all - but you wouldn’t necessarily say it’s good. Tastes better than another can of old spaghetti rings though, that’s for sure. 

Still, you can’t help teasing. You finish your original statement. “Sushi tastes much better than this.”

Daryl smiles, just slightly. And not the fake kind of smile he does when he’s just trying to be polite. Like when an elderly man from the group tells a joke no one else laughs at, or when the strap of your last bra broke and you started crying until Rick promised, cheeks red, that he’d look for your size on the next run.

Right now, it seems like Daryl’s actually having a good time. 

The thought makes you smile.

“Thank you,” you tell Daryl, and you swear you see him blush. “It's better than sushi, really.” 

“Yeah,” Daryl says, nodding. He’s grown uncomfortable with the compliments already. “It’s the best yer gonna get.” Others from the group join you around the campfire, and then Daryl takes off, but not before giving you one last lingering gaze. He has small eyes, you’ve noticed - a little hooded, but so beautiful. He’s incredibly handsome, in a unique way. A pretty, no, beautiful man. His stare burns you, warms you up even with the chill in the air.

It’s only later, when the rest of the group clears off and you and Daryl are alone again, that he speaks. He’s sharpening a knife, leaning on the side of a camper van for support, and you’re at a makeshift sink (bucket) washing the dishes. It was your least favorite chore before this new world, and it’s still your least favorite after. 

But, if you let your mind go there - something about the dynamic between Daryl cooking dinner and you cleaning the dishes up has you - 

No. You’ve got to stop acting so juvenile. 

On one hand, this little crush you have on Daryl is something positive that gets you through the day. Waiting to talk to him, excited to be around him - it shines light on a dark, terrible reality. On the other hand, getting attached to anyone at this camp is a bad idea. You just lost someone else a few days ago. 

The reality, that death really is lurking everywhere - that something could happen to you, or Daryl…it makes your palms sweat and your breathing become erratic. The reality of this new world is just so scary and cruel.

You’re done with the dishes and you dry your hands on an old flannel that the camp uses as a dish towel. You feel Daryl watching you, and you like it. 

“What are you looking at?” You tease, pushing some hair away from your face. “There a walker behind me or something? 

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t look at no walker like that,” he grumbles, but then he must realize what he said - what it really means. You’re so excited you’re almost vibrating, wondering, realizing now - that maybe this crush isn’t one sided. But you still try to play it cool, even as Daryl shakes his head, says, “Wasn’t lookin’ at nuthin.’”

You don’t know what to say to that. You begin to walk away, excited to spend the rest of the night in your tent going over this interaction until you fall asleep, but what Daryl says next stops you in your tracks. You freeze.

“Gotta get you a bra on the nex’ run,” he says, and your knees feel weak. “Those things almos’ poked me in the eye. You cold or sumthin’?’”

You fast walk to your tent, nearly crying from embarrassment - but your entire body is dizzy with excitement. It’s adrenaline, but not the same kind you get when you’re running or kill a walker and make it out alive - a different kind, one you haven’t felt since maybe even before the walkers. It lights you up inside, makes it hard to breathe - and the funniest part?

Daryl has no idea your nipples are hard because you’re aroused - all from watching him sharpen a knife. What can you say? A man who can handle a weapon like that can surely handle…other things.

────

The fire crackles as you sit back, the warmth from the flames doing little to ease the chill in your bones. It’s freezing outside, but you’re under a warm blanket, and if you delude yourself enough you can almost convince yourself that this is just a toasty evening with friends and not a risky fire that could very well lead walkers directly to the camp.

But there’s nothing the group can do - it’s simply too cold to go without a fire tonight. Even Daryl, king of having his arms always showing, is in a jacket tonight. Which sucks, because you really love looking at his arms…but this is survival.

There’s hushed conversation while Rick tells a story, a few pairs to the side chattering, and you feel left out until you notice that Daryl isn’t talking to anyone either. He’s just looking at the ground, then the fire, gaze flickering to you every few minutes. 

And you only notice that because your eyes can’t stay off of him. You can’t help it - it’s like you’re always looking for him. There’s something about that man, as dumb as it sounds, that makes him feel like your own security blanket. Even seeing him from across the camp, just a glimpse, can settle your nerves like nothing else. 

Suddenly, a voice from next to you tries to get your attention. It’s Derek, a decent looking guy about your age - but he’s pretty useless, as far as skills go. He accompanies the rest of the men for runs into town, can kill a walker if necessary, but he’s selfish and all about himself. Won’t even take watch at night, says it interferes with his sleep. You can’t stand him. 

You try to avoid his gaze and pretend to be busy, picking at your cuticles and hoping he leaves you alone, but no such luck. 

“Look at you, princess,” he teases, and you cringe so hard you wonder if it’s visible. It’s embarrassing, being referred to like that - so what, that you like the color pink and happen to be attractive? You’re not hurting anyone. The clothes you’re wearing, the pink clips you have to hold your hair back, the floral printed pillow case - those were all things you had before the world went to shit. 

You didn’t know the apocalypse had a dress code. 

You’re sick of being teased. Of being reduced to this overly feminine character - as if you don’t keep watch just as much as the men. As if you don’t kill walkers when they get close to the camp, while the other women hide. As if you don’t cook, and clean, and - 

Derek is still talking.

You sneak a glance across the campfire at Daryl, who holds your gaze for a minute before dropping it. You look back down too, play with your fingers on your lap. You’d go to your tent right now if you weren’t scared about the safety of falling asleep with no one actively on watch. 

“So, what’d you all do before this?” Derek asks, leaning forward. He’s asking the group, but he’s looking at you, which means - you’re supposed to go first?

You wonder if this has anything to do with what you told Cindy, someone you used to share a tent with before she found room in another one. There’s not much to do these days when you’re not cooking or cleaning or hunting or moving - lots of time to sit and talk. The apocalypse is so much more boring than you ever anticipated. You shared a lot about your past with her, but surely she wouldn’t gossip about you to the others in the camp?

You thought girl code was still a thing, even in these trying times. 

Everyone is silent, waiting for your answer. Even Daryl and Rick seem interested, which makes you feel even worse. You wanted to fit in, not be the center of attention.

You shift uncomfortably, before clearing your throat. You can feel Cindy’s eyes on you, sitting just a few people down. “Nothing special. Just,” you pause and shrug, unsure of what to say. “Whatever I had to. To survive.” 

Back then, surviving was all about money, and ever since your parents died when you were a teenager, money is the one thing you never had enough of. One thing you did have though, is your beauty. So you used it, to get the things you needed, and sometimes a little more - but it all boiled down to one thing, just like it does now - to survive. 

That’s all life is about, really? Take away the frills, the fun - people just want to stay alive, no matter how rough things get.

So - you had a boyfriend to pay your rent. A man that loved to take you shopping. A lonely guy who paid off your car. You’ve never lived in luxury, but you always made it. Always got by. Had the things you needed and a little bit more. Always -

“Yeah, well, we all knew you were a whore.”

The words leave Derek’s mouth and you’re frozen. Speechless - and that never happens to you. You’re so shocked at what he said that your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, and it’s only then that you realize the bottle of hard liquor on his lap. 

You glare at Cindy, who quickly gets up and runs to her tent, more scared of you than walkers apparently - good, you think, because she’s such a bitch for talking about you behind your back. You try to be cool about it, to laugh it off like Derek is so wrong it doesn’t even deserve a reaction, but you’re so embarrassed you feel your chest aching. 

Has everyone known about your history the entire time you’ve been at camp? You shared those stories with Cindy in the beginning, one of the first nights you arrived, desperate for some comfort. Is that why everyone treats you so differently from the rest? Is that why you’re the black sheep of a fucking camp formed during the apocalypse?

Does Daryl know?

You’re ready to defend yourself, but you don’t get to. Because Daryl is around the fire so fast you don’t even have time to blink, grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt and pounding his fists into his face. 

The sound of knuckles against bone is excruciating, makes you want to hurl - but you don’t tell him to stop. You’re frozen, and anyway, Derek deserves it, doesn’t he? 

It’s Rick, and a few other men that pull Daryl off of Derek, who’s sporting an eye so swollen it won’t shut and a busted lip, a cheek that’ll be purple for the next few weeks for sure. “Whore,” he spits, still able to talk, even as someone drags him away. “Man, shut up already,” one of the guys says to him, but nobody eases the sting of what he says. 

Daryl wipes sweat from his brow while Rick walks off to talk to Derek, but he can’t get a word in with the shit the other man is spewing. “Fucking whore,” he keeps grumbling. “There’s no money to milk from men anymore, is there? Bet you put out for that fish Dixon caught for you. Did you do the same for that new bra? Or that water bottle Rick brought back for you? Almost died you know, getting that shit for you, maybe you can thank me with,” Rick kicks him in the ribs before he can finish and tells him to shut up in that leader voice of his. 

You run off, now that the rest of the group has scattered, but you hear Daryl yell out, “Yeah, man, you should’ve died,” with a string of curse words. “All you fuckin’ people looking’ at her. Yer all whores in your own way. Useless too,” he continues, but you don’t hear it because you get into your tent and zip it up.

Great. All this drama, and now nobody is ever going to fucking like you now. You’ll be the black sheep forever, won’t you? It’s a harsh wake up call, and you’re thankful you’re alone. Your tentmate must’ve taken her daughter out to be with the other kids, away from the rowdiness at the fucking campfire. You sniffle, and climb into your sleeping bag. 

A minute later, before you’ve even had time to process what’s happening, Daryl enters the tent. He’s so big, it’s hard for him to fit, but he manages - cursing and crouching in a way that would make you laugh if this wasn’t such a depressing situation. 

He sits next to your sleeping bag. Knees bent, arms around his legs. He just sort of watches you. You look anywhere but his face, but you notice his knuckles are bloody red and torn, all because of you. 

“Didn’t have to defend me,’ you say, instead of thank you. “I wasn’t a whore, so,” but Daryl cuts you off. 

“Don’t matter what you were. He shouldn’t talk to you like that. Little prick deserves his ass kicked anyway. Can’t even shoot straight,” it’s like this moment is as uncomfortable for him as it is for you. You share a look, but you look away first, afraid of the intensity. You’ve never had someone stand up for you before - not like this. What are you supposed to say? What are you supposed to do? 

You say nothing at all. A few more minutes go by, with your vision blurry as you stare at Daryl’s knuckles and he stares at the hole that shows the grassy ground in the bottom of your tent. Finally, he sighs, annoyed, and even though you’re not talking you’re still worried he’s going to leave. He’s your teddy bear after all, right? Your security blanket. Maybe you’re selfish - but you don't want him to go. 

And he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl adjusts his position so he can reach into his pocket and pull something out. It’s bright pink, satin looking - you wonder if he’s going to hand you a pair of racy panties just to seal the deal that he thinks you’re a slut. A whore. 

But is he wrong? The look of the muscles in his arm, at his sheer size - at the smell of him, so masculine and woodsy in this little tent it almost makes you dizzy with want. 

After what just happened, how can you be thinking about sex? Maybe you are a slut. A whore. You’ve done things for money before, but -

Daryl hands the piece of pink satin to you. “S’posed to be a ribbon,” he says, shrugging. He’s embarrassed you realize, and it’s cute. “Found it on a toy, er, teddy bear, thought you might like it. If you don’t, I,” but you cut him off, scoot closer to him as you tie it around your wrist. 

“Thank you, Daryl,” you say softly, sweetly - and it feels so natural to lean in and press your lips against his cheek. His body is warm, and when you grip his bicep every cell in your body is on fire with desire. He must’ve taken his jacket off after the fight. If it could even be called that, with the way Daryl jumped Derek. Fights are usually a two way street.

Your heart swells, at the fact that he protected you. Thought about you on a run. Saw something and thought of you. Men have bought you things before, of course - but never something personal like this. Never something you didn’t have to ask for beforehand, for nothing in return.

Daryl, he - he gives you feelings so fuzzy and pure in your chest that you almost forget you’re sleeping just a few feet away from a forest of dead bodies. 

He doesn’t wipe his cheek when you pull away after the kiss, which is a step in the right direction. You’ve seen Daryl lose his shit over the intimacy of a simple thank you hug with someone else from camp before.

You feel special.

“Was nothin,’” he says, before pausing. He looks at you, then away again, wringing his hands before continuing. “Don’t feel any typa way about doin’ what you had to do to survive, ya hear me? I know what it’s like to do what you hav’to to live, ya know? That fucker. He doesn't have a clue about makin’ it on your own. How tough it can be. Don’ listen to the shit he’s got to say. Don’t listen to none of these people,” he won’t look at you, but you look at him, the side profile of his face so handsome you want to reach out and touch him. But you refrain. 

Instead, you squeeze his arm, bicep tan and bulging. You lick your bottom lip. “Daryl,” you interrupt him and he looks at you, gaze on your eyes, then your lips, then to the pretty ribbon tied around your wrist. He visibly swallows, before looking back at your eyes. His eyes are blue, pretty. Too pretty for a man as rugged as him, but what’s the saying? 

A person who is good on the inside - their beauty shines through. You think that’s true about Daryl. At this moment, you don’t think you’ve ever seen a man as beautiful as him. You breathe him in, going crazy over his pheromones - his smell. You can feel your body getting aroused at his closeness, and he’s not even doing anything sexual.

“Next time,” you say, teasing tone in your voice, “Can you bring the whole bear?”

────

“Look at us,” you say, trying not to skip beside Daryl. A mood this good feels eerie in this new world, but you can’t help the way you feel.

Daryl asked you to join him for a walk, and ever since that night when he gave you the ribbon in your tent - you’ve been closer than ever. You wear the ribbon around your wrist every single day, except for right now, when you’re wearing it to hold some of your hair back. 

You’re not sure what’s going on with you and Daryl, but there’s a freedom about it that fills you with joy. Helps you exhale easier in this crazy, cruel world - because he’s safe, and you like being around him, and he obviously likes you too, right? Or he wouldn’t ask you to go for a walk every single day, wouldn’t pay special attention to you during meals, making sure you’re eating enough - 

And he really wouldn’t have kissed you against a tree during his watch last week if he had any bad feelings towards you. 

Things at the camp are complicated, because that stunt Derek pulled separated the group. There’s people that hate you, because they’re really mad at Daryl - but nobody can be actually mad at Daryl, since he does so much for the entire group. Catches animals for food, is one of the strongest men besides Rick. You’re not exactly his girl, not even close, but you know that the only reason you haven’t been used as walker bait is because of Daryl’s status at the camp. 

When he kissed you, just a few weeks after that night in the tent - it was so much softer than you imagined. Because, yeah - you imagined what it would be like to kiss Daryl Dixon. Ever since you met him, really. He’s so tough, so crass, such a force. It’s always been an opinion of yours, that the toughest people really just need some softness. You wonder now, when he smiles shyly at you as you walk past a stream, if you’re that softness for him these days. 

“Look at us, what, girlie?” He asks, and you stifle a giggle, trying to remain serious for the bit of the joke. You brush your hand against his as you walk, wondering when he’ll grab it. Wondering when, if, he’ll ever claim you. But you’re trying not to rush things. It’s easy to get worried about time, when every single day is life and death - but there's something kind of beautiful about just going with the flow of what feels good. 

Living in the present, which is literally all you have now. All anyone has. And right now, your goal in the present, is to make Daryl laugh. 

“You’ve got your bow,” you say, gesturing to his weapon, “And I’ve got mine.” You flip your hair, showing off the pink, satin ribbon holding your hair away from your face. Daryl chuckles and shakes his head, but it only lasts for a second. 

Your face heats, pleased with yourself for making him laugh, and then your breath hitches when he grabs hold of your hand. 

“Yer sumthin’ else, girl,” he says fondly, and you walk into an area dense with trees before he nudges you against the trunk of one.

You don’t know what life was like for Daryl before walkers took over the population. You’re not sure if he had a lot, or a little, experience with women before this all happened. In fact, you don’t know a lot about Daryl at all. He’s closed off, he’s a little mean sometimes, too tough for his own good -

But god, the way he kisses. 

Hesitant, like he’s scared to take something he didn’t earn. You want to tell him that every single part of you, he has earned. You’ve known him for more time than your longest relationship. You’ve seen each other filthy, desperate, depraved. Covered in blood, covered in guts - starving, dirty, depressed. For a man that hardly talks, Daryl somehow knows you better than any man, maybe even any other person, ever has. 

He stood up for you. He tries to take care of you. He’s a good friend, he’s -

When he slips a hand to your hip and drops his crossbow on the ground, squeezes at your skin in a way that’s so possessive it makes your breath hitch, you literally let out a cry. Against your lips, Daryl murmurs, “Quiet, ‘less you wanna have a threesum with a walker.” His tongue tastes like cigarettes, a little bit like the apple juice one of the kids at the camp wanted him to try, because he’s a good sport, even if his resting bitch face might suggest otherwise. 

There’s something about him ordering you around that does it for you. You let him take charge of the kiss, but you grab his roaming hand and move it to your breast. He squeezes, but in your new bra, you don’t feel the friction you’re so desperately craving from him rubbing over your nipples. You want more, and you whine, trying not to be greedy but it’s just so damn hard. 

Against the tree, Daryl slips a leg between yours, and you shamelessly bend down to try to rub your aching core against it. “Daryl,” you whine, and he laughs, pulling away to look at you, his hair that’s getting longer plastered against his forehead with sweat. Everything about him is overwhelming. His smell, intense, his lips, delicious, his strength and size, so fucking hot you just want to curl up in the pocket of his shirt and stay safe forever. 

Because you don’t have a doubt in your mind - Daryl would keep you safe. You wonder, why you wasted your time with finance guys and entrepreneurs and men who’d never gotten their hands dirty, back when life was normal. Daryl, with calloused fingertips and his thick accent, a country boy through and through - he pleases you, makes you happier than anyone you’ve ever met before. 

Yeah, even in the apocalypse, you can find the romance. You kiss Daryl deeper. 

He moves his hand down from your breast to slip it into your pants, and he lets out a low noise in his throat at the feeling of your wetness already. Just from kissing him. You’re not ashamed - it’s been a long time since anyone touched your pussy like this, a long time since you even touched it yourself. There’s just no time alone, and you share a tent, and -

“Yer soakin,’” Daryl comments, and your entire body flushes with humiliation. But the good kind. You nod. “For you,” you whisper, and he leans his forehead against yours before capturing your lips in his again. 

Just as you expected, Darly is good with his fingers. He positions one of your legs over his hip so he has better access to finger you, rough hands, the calloused pads of his thumb dragging over your clit, so swollen after so long without cumming. It’s not going to take long, you know, to completely fucking burst. You want it so bad, to come apart on his fingers, to show him just how good you can be. He’s knuckle deep inside of you while still also putting pressure on your clit when you let out a screech, thankful you opened your eyes in time to see the walker coming from behind Daryl. 

You push him off of you until he curses and tries to pick up his crossbow, fingers still slick with your pussy, but you beat him to it. You grab the knife out of your boot, even though your body feels like jelly, and you slam it into the walker’s forehead as hard as you can. You huff and puff, because it takes a lot out of you, and when the walker is on the ground you slam your boot into its face a few too many times until the bottom of your shoe is covered with walker brains. 

“He’s dead,” Daryl says behind you. “Don’ waste yer energy.” You roll your eyes, wiping sweat from your face with a bandana you had in your pocket. 

“I know. That’s for him ruining my orgasm,” you say out loud, and behind you, Daryl lets out a low whistle. You’re really humiliated now, but what are the chances? A fucking walker trying to eat Daryl while you’re trying to get him to eat you? Some fucking luck. 

There’s still blood splattering on your face, and you turn to Daryl, wiping it with your sleeve. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” you say sheepishly, unsure of how to read his bland expression. But just because a walker interrupted, doesn’t mean you don’t want to continue your little fingering session. Just in case, shame out the window, you reach for him. Daryl backs away slightly. 

“Slow down,” he says, pulling away from you. “Don’ wanna fuck you in the forest,” and you understand, but also - where else can you have sex? Everyone’s always watching each other. When else can you get some time alone? 

Daryl looks down at the bulge in his pants, and you reach down and grope him, like some kind of horny harlot. Maybe you are. He watches you, the color of your nails, your tiny hand - and he lets out a groan himself. 

“C’mon, pretty girl,” he says, leaving you speechless and wet in the middle of the woods. He starts to walk away, but his head is turned to you and his eyes never leave you. You know it’s because he’s making sure you’re safe, watching over you, even with his dick chubbing up in his pants. He tugs his weapon up to rest on his shoulder. 

If that’s not a man, you don’t know what is. 

“Daryl,” you start to say, following him, about to beg him for something more, but he just throws an arm around your shoulders and tugs you along. You use the opportunity with his hand on your shoulder to tie the ribbon around his wrist, a small mark of your ownership. You wonder what he’ll say about that, if he’ll be mad -

He just squeezes your shoulder. “Not tryna deny you. I want you. Me and the little guy,” he looks down to his cock in his pants, obviously referring to that. “Yer just too pretty to do somethin’ like that in the woods. My tent, tonight?” You know that his tent mate is keeping watch tonight, so you’ll be alone for a good amount of time. Enough time to - you shiver just thinking about it. 

You nod eagerly. 

“You sure you’re not just disgusted at what I just did?” You phrase it like a joke, gently rubbing your lips on the healing cuts of his knuckles, but you’re serious. Maybe seeing a woman behave greedy, wanting, desperate - violent - maybe it was a huge turn off. 

Daryl shakes his head and tugs you closer, presses his lips to the top of your head. “Nah,” he assures, looking back down to the bulge in his pants. It’s even more noticeable than before. He takes the hand he used to finger you and sucks the digits, covered in your slick, into his mouth. The muscles in your cunt clench, at the way his cheekbones look, the level of lust in his eyes aimed at you. 

“That was fuckin’ sexy,” he assures, popping his fingers out of his mouth.

────

At dinner that night, which is squirrel - so you settle for half a protein bar and a bruised apple, Rick sits down beside you. You’re eating away from everyone else, because Daryl’s helping someone with something like he always is, but it’s alright because you’re in your own world, thinking about what’s to come later tonight with him. 

You’re in a trance, remembering the way he scratched at your scalp fondly when he walked you to your tent and watched you bend down to get inside. “Don’t sprain yer wrist before tonight,” he joked, insinuating you’d be finishing yourself off. He went off with a wink, leaving you reeling - because since when did Daryl Dixon joke around? 

You’ve been riding on a high for the rest of the night. 

Rick sitting beside you takes you out of your thoughts. You look at him and swallow the bit of stale protein bar you’ve been chewing for probably ten minutes, quirking an eyebrow at him. He’s so serious, it’s annoying. 

Don’t get it wrong - you like Rick. Appreciate everything he’s done, does for the camp - he’s just so intense, but he’s handsome in his own right too. Not your normal type, but then again - neither is Daryl. You just don’t understand a man like Rick, and he doesn’t get you. But he’s the best thing this group has, because he has everyone's interest at heart. Even someone like Daryl, well - 

He puts himself, and you by extension now, maybe - first. It’s not a bad thing, in fact, you find both sides of the coin admirable in their own way. 

“What’s up, Rick?” You finally ask. He looks down to his hands, before nodding behind you, and you turn and look at what he’s referring to - it’s Daryl, looking angrily at Derek, who’s by the fire drunkenly talking shit about everything while people try to calm him down. You sigh. 

“You and Daryl,” Rick says, and you’re not sure what to say to that - statement? Accusation? You just nod. “What about us?” You ask, and you really don’t mean to be rude, but you’re not sure why whatever you’re doing with Daryl is any of Rick, or anyone’s, business?

You expect a lecture. Something about needing to earn your keep, to stop distracting him, to make things right with Derek. Instead, Rick just pats you on the back, literally. 

“You’re good for him,” he says, before awkwardly walking off when someone calls his name. No doubt for a crisis that could easily be solved without his help. You feel sorta bad for Rick - people are so stressed, so traumatized in this new world, that they don’t want to use their brains at all. They put all their problems, no matter how small, on Rick, and that’s gotta be hard. 

You want to call out some sort of acknowledgement for all he does as he walks away, but Daryl begins walking towards you before you get the chance. You’re still looking towards Rick. “You checkin’ the boss out?” Daryl jokes, with something like possessiveness or jealousy in his tone. It burns you in the best way possible - that Daryl might worry about something like that. 

What can you say? You’ve always thought a possessive man was hot. 

Daryl plops down beside you. You’re sitting on a log, but he’s on the ground. Typical Daryl behavior. He wraps a hand around your ankle - and suddenly you’re very glad you got a chance to shave with the razor you stole from someone’s pile of toiletries after the last run. 

“That all yer eatin?’” He asks, referring to the empty wrapper in your hand. You shake your head and show off your sorry apple, but Daryl just shakes his head and scoffs. “Tha’s not enough. You can’t be picky about,” but he stops when he sees the expression on your face. 

You’ve talked to him about this before. He didn’t reply, but you know he was listening. Food - it’s the only thing you can be a little picky about. Everything else, you don't have any choice over. Where the camp goes, who you share a tent with. Food and now, this thing with Daryl - that’s all the power you have. Daryl nods, like he gets it but doesn’t like it, and then changes the subject. 

“Are you cold?” You ask, and Daryl laughs. As kind as he is to you, you know that he’s uncomfortable when you, or anyone, tries to show any kind of care for him. He nods his chin towards the ratty blanket you’re using. “You gon’ share with me, girlie?” You shake your head, a grin spreading across your face.

“No,” you say, tossing the blanket, the apple, and the wrapper into a duffle bag next to the log you’re sitting on. “Just thought I could warm you up in your tent.” Daryl looks like a deer caught in headlights as he peaks over your shoulder to where the rest of the group is getting ready for bed, his tent mate grabbing a gun before heading to the area where he’ll keep watch while everyone sleeps. 

Daryl nods. “Yer dirty,” he grumbles, standing up, but he runs his hands up and down his bare arms like he’s feigning being cold. “C’mon then. You gunna warm me up or what?”

────

The first time Daryl fucked you, he went slow. Took his time, opening you up with his thick fingers, even though you didn’t need the extra time. You were aching, wet - desperate for him to shove his cock inside of you, because you’d been thinking about it for too long. Too much kissing, humping, friction between the two of you - all you wanted, could imagine, was how his cock would feel against your throbbing center. 

When he finally thrusted inside of you, stretched you out and began to fuck into you, he didn’t let himself go like you always imagined. Insecurely, you narrowed your eyes, even as your back arched off of his sleeping bag. “When’s the last time?” You asked, referring to the last time he had sex. Daryl just let out a shaky laugh and calmed your fears with a thrust that made your toes curl and a moan escape your lips. 

“Long enough, pretty girl,” he assured, all while you huffed in brat and dug your nails into his shoulders. “Jus’ wanna enjoy it. We’ve finally got the time.” And Daryl was right, but really, when is he ever wrong?

The first time you had sex you got to enjoy going slow. But the rest of the times after that - and there’s been a lot now, it’s always a quickie. A rush, because shit hit the fan at your current camp soon after the first night together. The entire group had to move, you lost people to walkers (though not Derek, unfortunately), and now getting off with Daryl only happens in quick spurts whenever you’re alone. 

In a way, the drama surrounding the camp has made the two of you closer. 

When the entire group has to drive down a walker infested highway, normally you’d be in a camper van with the other women and children, but Daryl has your back. 

“You’re ridin’ with me,” he says, shooting Rick a look before anyone can object. As he walks off, he purposely bumps his shoulder into Derek, who scoffs and does the same to you. Daryl doesn’t notice, but Rick does, and he tells Derek off before Daryl can do anything drastic like beat his ass again. 

“Hey,” he warns, shoving Derek away from you. “Watch it,” Derek grumbles, glaring at you before hopping into the back of a truck with a few of the other men. “What?” He asks mockingly, because you’re frozen, watching him in a trance while Daryl starts up his bike. 

Derek just can’t leave you alone - he picks on you every single chance he gets. “You got Rick standing up for you now too, huh?” He says, shaking his head in disgust. “You let him fuck you too?”

It’s not his words that hurt so much, but it’s the fact that he’s saying them at all. You’ve never done anything to Derek, have only been nice, yet he looks at you like a target and it hurts so bad your eyes threaten to spill tears. Thankfully, Daryl comes for you, and you get on the back of his bike with ease. 

“You okay?” He asks, even though it’s hard to hear with the sound of the rumble from the motorcycle. You nod, and press your face into his back. Daryl takes off down the highway, leading the way while Rick follows behind, and you selfishly let yourself doze off against him. You trust Daryl, more than you’ve ever trusted another man - and that’s a lot of pressure. 

Trusting anyone these days means you’re putting your life in their hands. It’s exhausting. When you tell the women at camp you’ll watch their kids while they go to the restroom, or go for a walk - essentially what you’re saying is you’ll protect their kids if shit was going south. Even just the thought, being responsible for someone else - it makes your chest heave. 

Your arms are tight around Daryl as he drives. You’re not sure how long you’re on the road for when the motorcycle stops, but you know you’re much farther ahead then the rest of the group. In another life, you imagine Daryl happy and free - driving to a city, or another town on a brand new motorcycle. Maybe working in a shop. You feel a pang of sadness, that he’ll never get that. 

He deserves so much more than this shit. You all do. 

Except maybe Derek. 

And Cindy. Fuck that bitch.

Daryl stops the bike and you get off, stretching your legs. 

“You good, dolly?” He asks, and you wrinkle your nose at the nickname. You’re pretending not to like it, when in reality, it makes you tingle all over. You nod. 

“You go fast,” you say, and he laughs, steps off of the bike and walks to an empty field off to the side of the highway. “‘S the only way to go. Stay here,” he orders, before walking off. He grumbles something about taking a piss and you stifle a laugh, pretending to salute him. You see his hand twitch, like he wants to jokingly flip you off, but he stops himself. 

Something about that, that he won’t play rough with you, has your knees feeling wobbly. You feel like you can breathe, without the rest of the group breathing down your back, insulting you, accusing you of doing sexual things just to be treated like a human being. You try not to think about it, because you want to have a decent day and don’t want Derek to be the cause of tears when you’ve been through worse circumstances without crying. It’s hard though. 

You walk around the motorcycle, eyes on the ground. You catch a glimpse of your shoelace, pink against the black of your boot, because you used the ribbon for added flair when you gave your shoelace to someone at the camp who needed a belt. 

Daryl saw you, and promised you that night with his cock buried deep in your throat, “I’ll get you some more ribbons, pretty girl,” he assured, while you gagged and spit dribbled down your chin. “Too hard to hold your hair back when yer suckin’ me off like a pro.” 

That comment should’ve stung, but you know Daryl didn’t mean it like that. In fact, it was so hot that you did your best, until he spilled down your throat and you licked the mess you made off of his cock and balls and thighs. 

You’re lost in your thoughts, busy giving your pussy a heartbeat when you notice a little gold, bullet shaped thing on the ground. You’re not sure what it is, but if it is a bullet, you know having extra is always good. You reach down to grab it, only then realizing that it's a lipstick. 

You pop open the lid. It’s a pretty pink color, and while it’s used - you can’t even remember the last time you wore makeup. You wipe the top layer off before dabbing some with your finger and putting it on, trying to check yourself out in the mirror of the motorcycle when Daryl comes back. 

“The fuck are they?” He asks, zipping his pants up. He’s so, so, so - crass sometimes that it’s endearing. You shrug, and that’s when he notices the lipstick you’re wearing. His eyes are hooded, heavy with tiredness, and it makes him look all the more handsome. “There a makeup store aroun’ here I shud know about?” He teases, and you shake your head and hold up the lipstick tube. 

“Found this. How’s it look?” Daryl just nods, looking at you with a strange expression. You’re not sure what he’s thinking, until he tugs you closer to him by the wrist and tentatively presses his lips against yours. 

“Don’ care about the gloss,” he comments, and you resist the urge to explain it’s not gloss, it’s lipstick. “But I don’ call you pretty girl for no reason. Always pretty,” he says shyly, and Daryl is a perfect guy, but he never opens up. Hardly ever says how he feels, or what he thinks - but he’s being clear now. That he wants you, verbally, even though his actions in everything he do is always proving that to you. 

It’s crazy, the feeling of happiness bubbling in your chest, all thanks to Daryl Dixon. On the fucking highway filled with walkers probably silent in their cars, with flat tires and blood stains and ramsacked belongings, you stand on your tip toes and nudge the toe of your boots against his, grabbing hold of his handsome face and peppering kisses all over. You leave pink lipstick marks, but he doesn’t know that yet - and it makes you giggle. 

Putting your mark all over Daryl - you’ve never been possessive, but wow does it feel good. When you finally pull away, Daryl looks at you like you’re crazy. Then he takes a look down the highway to make sure nobody’s coming, before bending you over the front of his motorcycle. 

“Grab the handlebars,” he orders, a hand on your back before roughly pulling your pants down your ass. It’s risky, knowing that the rest of the camp could drive up at any minute, but who really cares? They already think so low of you. They already -

Your eyes shut as Daryl shoves his half hard cock inside of you, and your walls clamp down around him, so tight you feel him growing. It happened so fast he wasn’t even fully hard, but now he is, small thrusts so the both of you can get used to the feeling. Your hands are cramping where they grip the bars of his bike, so tight, until it almost starts to tip. Daryl has an idea. 

He pulls out, cock in hand with his fucking pants not even pulled all the way down, and he sits himself over his bike like normal. “Take em’ off,” he says, nodding towards your pants, and you obey, stripping them off until it takes too long because of your boots and Daryl just hauls you over to him. 

You almost trip as he lifts you onto the bike, bent over the handlebars, eyes on the road, before he slips his cock into you. It’s like you’re sitting on his lap, and he reaches around you, fully supporting your body while rubbing your clit. 

“Can you move?” He asks roughly, and you whine, trying to go up and down on his cock but it’s too hard at the angle. Daryl presses a kiss to your head, moves some of your hair back while he takes hold of your hips and ruts you back and forth over his dick. You know he’s strong, but feeling it first hand is something else entirely. It’s like you’re a doll with the way he easily controls your body, dick so thick it feels like he’s stretching your pussy into the perfect mold just for him.

“Don’ worry,” he assures, letting out a breath of pleasure right by your ear. “I got ya. Only time yer quiet ‘s when you got my cock in you, huh?”

He’s not wrong. You wish you could see his face, but this position, your back to his front, is pretty hot too.

It’s only a minute later, when his hand slips while you try to pull your body up to do some of the work, that he nearly pinches your clit and it’s the pain that sends you over the edge. You cum, that easily against him, and you cry out his name just as you both hear the sound of an engine in the distance. Daryl curses, throws his head back at the feel of your tight pussy squeezing him, and quite literally picks you up off his cock and puts you on your feet. 

“Knees,” he says quickly, and you obey, because of course you do, even though the gravel of the road is a little painful on your knees. He grabs you by your hair, and forces your mouth onto his cock where he spills his load down your throat. You swallow it down and kitten lick the head of his cock clean after, admiring the pink lipstick marks all over his perfect dick as he quickly zips tucks his dick in his pants and zips up, but not before helping you get your pants back up too. 

“If we live another day,” Daryl says, helping you straighten out your pants when the other cars pull up. He snaps the band of your panties, white cotton and floral print, against your skin while the rest of the group gets out of the cars to have a meeting over some bullshit, you’re sure. “I’ll return the favor,” he finishes. 

You don’t know if he’s joking or not, but you pull up his arm and cuddle into his side as he stands up, his tongue on your mind even though you just came all over his cock. You wish you could’ve had time to ride your orgasm out, but you’ll take what you can get.

Rick nods to Daryl as he gets out of his truck. He looks between the two of you, and for the first time, maybe ever, - you see him smirk a little. 

“‘S your color, man,” he says, closing the car door. Daryl is confused, and takes a look at himself in the rearview mirror of his motorcycle, notices all the kiss marks and another first happens -

Daryl Dixon blushes red.

────

“I wanna come,” you say, resisting the urge to literally stomp your foot as Rick and Daryl and a few other men head out on a run. 

It’s not like you actually want to go, but you can’t bear the thought of Daryl leaving without you. You know he can take care of himself, but the thought of him not returning - it literally makes you feel sick. You tug on the sleeves of your sweater while Daryl loads a bag of guns into the back of Rick’s truck, the other men exchanging glances that you know are them hoping Rick puts you in your place. 

Ever since people caught on about you and Daryl, they’ve kept their mouths shut in regards to you. Which is good. You’re still ignored, like before - but at least you’ve got a little respect. You cross your arms as Rick and Daryl walk towards you. 

“It’s dangerous out there,” Rick says, as if you’re an idiot who’s head has been buried in the sand for the past year. He sighs. “Look - we need you here. This is your role,” he looks like he wants to continue, but Daryl places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a look that Rick knows means let me handle this.

But you already know what Daryl is going to say to you, and you don’t want to fucking hear it. “I want to come, Daryl,” you say, trying not to whine. “I’m good with a gun, and since Derek can’t go,” you lower your voice, but Derek must’ve been slinking around. He pops up next to you, and Daryl tenses. 

“You,” Daryl warns, mood gone sour just from Derek’s presence. “Fuck off.”

Derek laughs, but he’s obviously pissed. He can’t go on anymore runs, at least not for a while - he’s too scared, after a walker almost bit him the last time. 

It’s only when you tense up, that Daryl realizes the other reason you don’t want to be left alone. 

You don’t want to be alone with Derek. Yes, there’s other women at the camp and a few other men, but Derek is a scary, loose cannon. He’s the last person you want to be around right now. Daryl’s jaw locks, and he looks between the two of you, at the way you’re uncomfortable. Someone in Rick’s truck blares the horn, and he turns around, stressed out, not knowing what to do. 

“Fuck face,” Daryl grumbles, running a hand down his face. He’s addressing Derek with a glare. He walks closer to him, chest to chest almost, backing Derek almost onto his ass. Derek can pretend to be tough all he wants - but he’s a bitch in comparison to a man like Daryl. 

“Stay away from her. Don’t even look at her. If I come back and you so much as,” but Derek smirks. “If,” he emphasizes, until Daryl literally shoves him. Rick calls his name, and Daryl backs off. 

You end up dropping whatever you’re saying, hating the position you’re putting Daryl in - like you’re a kid who has to have your way. Daryl is just trying to help the group, he has responsibilities - you don’t need to make his job harder than it is, so you wave him off. “I’ll be fine, Daryl. Just - come back safe.” You kiss his cheek and then he’s off.

You go to your tent to avoid Derek when the men going on the run are gone, but as you walk away you hear him speaking to you. “What’re you doing with that white trash? You might’ve been a whore, but you’re no trailer trash. You wouldn’t be with him if this was any other world.”

You stop in your tracks. “Don’t talk about Daryl like that,” you say softly, but firmly. For all Daryl does for everyone - you can’t believe Derek has the fucking nerve to talk shit. You want to flip him off, but he walks closer to you, and you freeze. You’re more scared of this man than a fucking walker, and your stomach flips with anxiety at his nearness.

“I worked in finance,” he says, like it matters. You actually have to stifle a laugh, confused at why his past matters - he’s so worthless that this is all he has to brag about? He thinks you care? Is he trying to relate to you, by putting Daryl down? He’s an idiot.

You smile sweetly, as if that’s anything to brag about. All the finance guys you knew in the city before all of this - they were horrible people. Of course that’s what Derek used to do. 

“Trust me, Derek,” you say, hoping it stings. “I know.”

You walk away again, but just as you do, he grabs you by the arm. You try to pull your arm out of his grasp, but he won’t let you go. He tugs you closer to him, and you wish anyone cared about you enough to help you. 

“Let go of me,” you spit, but Derek just shakes his head.

“You’re such a stupid bitch, you know that? Acting too good for any of us, treating all of us like shit. But you put out for fucking Dixon - let all of us hear you letting him fuck you in his tent and the woods. We saw you on your knees that day on the highway. I mean, it’s not a secret you’re a slut, but it’s another thing to see it. And now Rick is defending you? That why you were talking to him the other day for dinner? Offering yourself up for more rations or something? You’re sick,” Derek rants and raves, bruising your arm with his grip.

“Let me go,” you say, trying not to show how scared you are. “Or I’ll fucking scream.” 

Derek actually laughs, shaking his head. You’re disturbed to know that he’s been watching you? Following you and Daryl? Because the both of you know - you only ever fooled around with Daryl when nobody could listen and see unless they were trying to. You wouldn’t do that, and neither would Daryl.

“If I’m such a stupid slut, that must make you pretty bad, huh? That I won’t even put out for you,” you hate that you even say those words, like you’d ever consider having sex with this man, but you want to hurt him. To get him to see that he's wrong about you - you want him to leave you alone.  

“You fucking bitch,” Derek says, pushing you to the ground.

You let out a cry. You should’ve never told Daryl and Rick you’d be okay, you should’ve -

Suddenly Derek is off of you. You’re frozen for a second, before you hear screaming and someone calling out your name. 

You’re in shock as someone helps you up. You know it’s Rick, because you notice his watch. “Damnit,” he curses, and you register the sound of Daryl’s voice. You look around for him, and when you find him, you see Derek on the ground, an arrow in his head. 

He’s dead - for now. That fast. Until he turns into a walker. 

Daryl walks to you, pulls you into his arms. “What happened?” He asks, and you’re worried he’s going to blame you, because you provoked him, and you stupidly left your weapons in your tent. You’re worried he’s going to think differently of you, that Rick will be mad that Derek is dead, and all these worries start swirling in your head until you can’t be strong anymore. You start crying so loud that you know you’ll be responsible for any walkers coming into camp tonight. 

Rick starts to talk, but Daryl, for the first time ever, shuts him down harshly. “No, man. I ain’t sorry. He had it coming,” he says sharply, and Rick just swallows, holds his hands up like he agrees. 

“Jus’ was gonna say to finish the job,” and you know he means, kill the fucker before he turns. 

But you don't want Daryl to do it.

No, this is a job you can do. 

Wordlessly, you pull yourself out of Daryl’s arms and walk towards Derek’s corpse. Everyone at the camp has gathered around now, too little too fucking late, but Rick tries to stop you from getting closer. You smack his hand away, and hold your palm out. It takes a minute, until Daryl finally orders Rick to give you what you want. 

Rick hesitantly places a gun in your hand - and you shoot Derek in the head.

────

You’ve never killed someone who hasn’t turned yet. Derek was the first.

What scares you the most, is how little you care. 

After what happened, you told Daryl everything that Derek said. You learned that night, from both Rick and Daryl, that the reason Derek was so horrible is because he wanted you - and how scary is that? What if he hurt you in another way once he had you on the ground? You’re lucky Rick forgot his gun and backpack on the run, that they had to turn around and come back to camp - the reason they got to you in time.

Rick assured you that you did the right thing. Which felt good, coming from the moral compass of the group. Everyone else was kind too, apologetic - you guess Derek scared more people into submission than you thought. 

But Daryl was just pissed. More angry than you’d ever seen him. Throwing shit, breaking stuff - burning Derek the minute he dragged him a far enough distance from camp. Derek never even got a chance to turn. 

Daryl threatened to leave the group with just you. It seemed like a good idea at first, until the reality that two people can’t survive on their own. No matter how resourceful, strong, and brave Daryl is. 

But that meant a lot, that Daryl was trying - but the important thing is to survive. 

The last few weeks, you’ve kept your head down. You clean, you help cook, you even take a few bites of whatever Daryl cooks because he pretty much forces you to - and because, secretly, you like how proud of you he looks when you try something new. 

You just wish the world was different. But Daryl’s been amazing. 

Rick’s been kind too. Everyone has, and maybe -

The sound of the zipper on your tent takes you out of your thoughts. You’re braiding your hair since you just washed it, but it’s proving to be a difficult task. You’re thankful for the distraction.

It’s Daryl.

“I already ate,” you tell him, worried that he’s bringing you some rodent that’s badly cooked. But you’re trying to be nice - he’s the only good thing in your world these days, so you soften your words. “Come inside and cuddle.”

Daryl squeezes inside the tent, and he leans on his side by your sleeping bag, just watching you. His head balanced on his hand, propped up on his elbow.

“Have somethin’ for you,” he says, not waiting for you to reply. In his hand is something wrapped in a tissue and you wonder what it is. He places it on your lap, and you look at him, excited but also a little upset. 

“I told you to stop risking your life to get me things,” you scold, because everytime Daryl goes on a run, he finds things for you. Ribbons, hair clips, a pink toothbrush the other day. Lip gloss and lipstick (he knows the difference now), a pair of socks with little bows on them that are a size too big but still your favorite. He’s always saying how cute you are, how he thinks about you whenever he sees something pink.

It’s the best compliment ever.

You look to the other end of your sleeping bag, where a teddy bear Daryl found for you on a run a few weeks ago faces you both. It’s missing an eye, has the ribbon, the first gift he ever gave to you tied around its neck, and you love it so much that you sleep with it every night.

It’s definitely seen better days, and you don’t really know where he found it, but it’s so special to you - partly because Daryl gave it to you, and partly because it’s a little part of him that’s always with you. Part teddy bear, part security blanket - just like him.

It’s also a little scraggly. Sort of rough, dirty - but cuddly just the same. Kind of like Daryl. You move it a little closer.

Daryl groans in frustration and you almost roll your eyes at the dramatics. “Hush, lady, y’know I can take care of myself. ‘S nothing,” he nods to the thing on your lap, and you sigh and open the tissue. 

It’s a cookie. 

Your brows furrow, and you look at Daryl, all confused. “What,” you start, and he shrugs, sitting up. He rubs a hand down his face. 

“Remembered what you said, about the cookies,” he’s sheepish, as if this isn’t the sweetest thing in the world. You gulp, trying not to cry at how touched you are, but you can’t help it. Tears brim at your waterline, and you wipe your eyes. 

“Oh,” he scolds, letting out a huff. “Don’ cry. I just remembered what you said, is all. It’s probably not good anymore, but you’re my girl, and I want,” you smile even as tears run down your face. 

“Your girl,” you hold that close to your heart, and Daryl nods, avoiding eye contact. You don’t care. You throw yourself into his arms. 

His hug is warm, strong, and you feel the stress leave your body as he kisses your temple. He was listening, all those times you were talking. 

Daryl Dixon, you think, the man that you are. 

Your silence must be unexpected. He pulls away, watches your thumb brush over the most likely stale cookie he probably found on a run. You’re not really gonna eat it - but it’s the thought that counts. 

“You talked about what ya miss, from before. But when I look back,” pretty blue eyes look at you. He cups your chin, presses his lips against yours. 

You make a note to ask for chapstick for the both of you on the next run. 

“Don’ cry, c’mon. You’re makin me soft,” he complains, even as he holds you closer. You want tell him that you can’t make him something he already is, but what he says next throws the sass right out of you. “When I look back, before I knew you,” he finishes shyly, “I just miss you, ya know?” 

Daryl says that he’s not romantic, but he’s the most romantic man you've ever met. He’s a good person. He’s kind, and thoughtful, and even though he’s vague sometimes, too quiet for his own good - you know what he means. 

You can’t believe there was a time you didn’t know - a time you didn’t love - this man. He’s everything to you.

And maybe, yeah - this world is hell. There’s death and decay and too much sadness to catch a break, but there’s one good thing in all of it. One thing so important to the both of you, that gives a little bit of meaning to this shitty, shitty world. 

You found each other. You have each other. 

You sniffle and nod, holding the cookie close, but Daryl even closer.

“Yeah,” you say, kissing his cheek softly. You feel him relax at your touch. “I’ve always missed you too, Daryl.”

not outside of the ache he’s left between your legs and the marks that’ll take time to heal. you stuff it into a basket in your mind as you begin packing your bag, heading to the place where you’ll be meeting a new team—become the latest recruit to something more off the record, than on.

you’re sized up, and you size them up back. don’t linger on the pair of eyes behind a balaclava that digs into you with more venom than gratitude. you exchange no words outside of the necessary, completely keeping yourself to yourself where you can—not wanting to miss out on this, an opportunity not handed so often.

so it isn’t until you’re back from the desert, removing sand from wherever it has tried to find a home, that you see your Lt hovering in the doorway. sliding the fabric up, exposing a pair of lips that make you frown, before he speaks.

and his tone isn’t gruff, isn’t as low or as formal as you’ve heard through the radio. if anything, it’s reminiscent of a voice from weeks ago, one buried into your ear, one burned and soldered to your skin as you took and you took and you took.

you get confirmation it’s him when he makes a comment, one that makes you ice cold and full of fire all at once. before now, you’d never thought that “nice work out there” would have the same effect on you as “you can take it”.

Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.

It also doesn’t matter that he literally tears your shirt from your body, a rumble reverberating through his chest when he sees you without underwear. You were expecting him. Good.

Simon – Ghost – is never gentle when it comes to the first round. He never strips all the way down, either, always leaving his mask on, too. He just yanks his pants down as far as necessary before pressing the hard, aching, weeping tip of his cock to your entrance, pushing in with neither care, nor restraint.

He sees the way you fist the sheets, face down against the mattress but your cries still managing to reach him. He just doesn’t care. Especially when your familiar warmth encompasses him, pulls him into the here and now.

It’s at this point that Ghost sees why Simon loves being around you so much, loves being with you. In you.

His member protrudes, a bump in your stomach evident like a tombstone. Whenever you try to press it, try to flatten your hand against it to get a feel for just how big it is, he takes your wrists in his hands and presses them against the mattress. The message is clear: you don’t interfere. I’ll cum when I say so, not by your hand.

Ghost doesn’t stop until you’re raw and red and leaking with either his or your juices, a ring of white forming at the base of his shaft where you can’t fit any more of his length inside you. You feel it, pulsating and battering and alive in your middle, feeling as if it’s nudging everything else out the way so it can lie uninhibited inside your warm cavern.

He’s hard and fast, rough yet thorough. He never leaves an inch of you unmarked, unbruised, by the time he’s done. Whether he’s aware or not, you always end up finishing first, your walls tightening and pulsating around Ghost’s cock as he continues to abuse your hole, hitting your most sensitive point over and over again, prolonging your orgasm and leaving you utterly spent yet satisfied.

When Ghost cums, it’s long, hard and hot. So, so hot – as if the all fire of his anger he’s had building up these last few months is now cradled within you, an unspeakable offspring. He never immediately pulls out. No, he waits, hands about your waist, no doubt bruises from where he’s gripped you, where he’s kept you so he can make sure you don’t crawl away.

His load is thick and there’s so much of it – you feel like you’re being filled past full.

If you’re capable and fertile, he often considers not giving you birth control after the fact, rather letting you stay dormant in bed and tying you up so you have no choice but to let his seed take. The idea never fails to send a shiver down his spine, making him hard all over again as the image of you, bedbound and incapacitated by his hand is enough to make him retreat to another room just so he doesn’t act on the fantasy. 

The look on Simon’s face, he often wonders, when he finds you’re marked as Ghost’s, carrying a permanent reminder that he got to you first; when he realises that the creature he entrusts his dirty work to, his militant alter ego, has utterly ravaged and claimed you from the inside out.

The horror. The futility of apology. It’s enough to satiate Ghost for now. Enough, enough.

And with that, he pulls out, taking the blazing heat of his body with him. He leaves you on the bed, ass up, face down, with his cum dripping out of you. Leaves you for Simon to clean up, to deal with. 

And to your side does Simon come rushing, for once Ghost removes his mask, so does he the haze he casts over his unwilling creator, letting him return to humanity. The vague pulsing of his member, the wetness coating it and the sheen of sweat clinging to Simon’s body is enough to let him know – remind him – what’s happened.

He comes to your aid, scooping you up in his arms and tending to you in every way he knows how - in every way that’s routine. He apologises, over and over, for letting Ghost do this you, for letting him have his way with you, for not being able to protect you–

You shush him. Look at him with kind eyes. You tell him you’re happy to do it, that you’d rather it be you than anyone else, that you wouldn’t be doing it if you didn’t love Simon. Which you do. Monumentally. And Simon loves you, too. He just fears that Ghost may be growing to love you, too – in ways he shouldn’t. 

He feels him now, watching you bathe, sweeping over the bruises on your wrists, your hips and waist, the pressure in the back of his head mounting as Ghost lusts for the control to do it all again.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

I’m somebody who normally can’t sleep in a tight embrace, but he was pratically latching onto me both times. Subconsciously in his sleep. Holding onto me, softly still. If it were possible for him to wrap himself around me completely, I bet he would’ve done it. His big arm resting over my torso, the forearm securely between my breasts, his hand on the side of my face. One of his legs strewn over one of mine. Almost like a human weighted blankie. And I still slept soundly.

I yawn and stretch again, until I notice a little piece of paper stuck to my arm. I peel it off and look at it.

That explains where he went off to, but it also makes him out be a liar, because I don’t believe I look anywhere near cute in the morning. Drooling into the soft pillow underneath my head. My hair standing off to the side. Probably snoring as well.

And I have to laugh as I see the little doodle in the right corner. Honestly, it’s a relief to see – considering the man’s many talents – that he isn’t good at everything. Drawing doesn’t seem to be his forte. But at the same time, this was painfully cute. The note, the doodle, everything. I giggle to myself and finally pull back the covers.

I assess the ‘damage’ while I get up: Booty hurts a little bit, probably from getting fucked into the hard wood surface of the bar. The muscles in my legs are a little tense, my shoulders and neck feel a bit stiff, and my pussy is a little bit sore (and deeply satisfied). The hickeys and the faint bitemark on my inner thighs bring a little smile to my face. It couldn’t have been clearer if he had written ‘König was here’ in waterproof sharpie on them.

I put on my shirt, still not daring to take one of his because of how it might look, and curse myself because I didn’t pack more clothes. It’s not terribly stinky or stained, but it definitely looked better yesterday. I quickly brush my teeth, my eyes darting to the shower, remnants of last night in the forefront of my mind before I go on a search for my panties.

I find them on the floor in the bar, the memories of yesterday flooding me, the forgotten cocktail still on the bar. He had to make another one, because the icecubes had already melted and the gin was warm.

I leave the cellar going up the stairs until I stand in the living room again, looking at the books I set aside yesterday.

There is another crystal tumbler on the end table, this one empty. Just one because we shared it.

The glass moving from my hand to his and back, while we were listening to music, talking. Cuddling on the couch. My legs splayed over his thighs, barely reaching all the way to the other side. His arm around my waist, his thumb painting little circles over my hip. My fingers tangled in his hair and digging into the scalp, massaging gently until he was humming quietly.

His mouth placed on the glass where mine was, just a moment before, taking another sip.

Lingering kisses, slow and sweet, turning into little sips of the drink being passed between us. Tasting him and the gin at the same time. A heady combination.

I felt myself getting sleepier and sleepier the later it got, until I yawned and almost fell asleep in his arms, then he finally got me to agree that we should head to bed.

I hear the front door open, the sound ripping me from my memories. I turn around, skipping in that direction.

König is standing in the hallway, taking off his shoes, a grocery bag in his hands. In his usual leatherjacket, shirt and… sweatpants? Casual black sweatpants. Yeah no, I totally feel normal about them. I can’t help but ogle him, because he looks like a wet dream, even in the most mundane outfits.

He sees me, his face lighting up in a grin. “No pants again, huh?”, he comments, his eyes dropping down my body.

I blush. “Uh, I can put some on, if it bothers you.”

He laughs. “Doncha dare hide that cute ass of yours.” He comes closer and leans down, dropping a kiss onto my mouth and his hand to my ass. Patting it twice, quickly and playful. “I almost didn't want to leave bed this morning...”, he whispers against my lips and deepens the kiss, for just a moment.

“I got your note.”, I say as we tumble into the kitchen.

He puts the shopping bag down on the counter. “Yeah, went to the supermarket. And I also got us some croissants from the bakery.”

“The little shop at the corner to Main Street?”, I ask.

“Yes.”, he smiles.

“Hell yeah, I love their croissants, they're the best.”, I exclaim.

“Baked goods, the only thing the french are good at.”, he comments pointedly.

“Oh man, you and the french.”, I laugh as I hop onto the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker. Watching him unpack the groceries and getting said baked goods.

He pulls one croissant out of the brown paper bag and hands it to me unceremoniously. I grab it and take a bite, the flakey dough bursting as my teeth cut through it. The little sigh that drops from my lips sounds a little too enamored, a little too enthused for just eating a croissant. He looks at me, his jaw dropping just a bit.

“What?”, I ask, still munching on the pastry dough.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head mumbling something that sounds a bit like "never thought I'd be jealous of a fucking croissant".

That makes me laugh. "Thanks for getting them, but you didn't need to get up early for that."

He shrugs. "I'm an early bird anyway out of habit, and I had to go out and buy some milk, because I forgot about that.", he explains, pulling said milk out of the grocery bag.

I look at him, a little confused.

"I drink my coffee black, so I never have any milk at home.", he adds, as if that was a given.

A grin stalks on my face. “Of course you do.”, I say pointedly.

“Now, what's that supposed to mean?”, he asks.

I tilt my head and pull my brows up, all like 'are you being serious?'. “Let's just say that I would have been way more surprised if the over 40-year-old metalhead, who has a car that looks like it's from the nineties, who still collects vinyls and CDs, who would rather drink his gin neat and who's biggest kitchen appliance is a barista coffee machine with all the knick-knacks – if he drank a latte in the morning.”

He laughs, the hearty sound making me all giddy. “Tell me how you really feel.”, he says, his eyes sparkling at me, while jokingly clasping one hand over his heart.

“Sorry.”, I say, grinning at him.

He waves it off. “Don’t be, I deserved that.” He gets some coffee beans ready, putting them through the grinder and then fitting the portafilter into the barista machine.

While the coffee drips down into the cup, he comes closer standing right in between my knees. “But, how about you, missy? Do you like a latte in the morning?” The little quirk of the corner of his mouth is telling me that this isn’t just some question about my coffee preferences. It’s one of his telltale signs.

“I do, but I feel like I'm missing the joke here.”, I say, looking up at him. Sitting on the counter, he still towers over me, more than a head taller than me.

He chuckles. “Well, ‘Latte’ is also another word for boner in German, so...” He sees the grimace I'm making and laughs some more, and I join in, while shaking my head. He steps away and repeats the process, getting another coffee ready.

"I'm starting to think that your language only has dirty innuendos and curses.", I remark, jokingly.

He grins. "That just might be my vocabulary." He pours some milk into a metal jug and froths it, adding the froth to the mug after the coffee is ready. Wincing at the shitload of milk he put in. "Here, a latte for the lady.", he says, while handing me the mug.

My eyes drop down of their own volition, as I take it from his hands. Openly staring at his crotch, where his sweatpants are clearly tented by his dick. And he comes even closer with the way I'm looking at him.

My gaze pans up again until it lands on his face, his expression stoic, as he’s pulling an eyebrow up, like he’s awaiting what I’ll do. I take a drink, tasting the coffee on my tongue. "Thank you. For the latte." Trying to hide my grin behind the mug. "Sir.", I add, cheekily.

He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of me, caging me in. The look in his eyes burning into me. I still grin up at him, but I feel like I'm in danger. In danger of getting devoured like one of those flaky croissants.

"You wanna say that again with your lips around my dick? Hm?", he asks and my breath halts. Thinking about yesterday again. When I sat on his bed, gagging around his cock.

"Maybe.", I whisper. He just leans down to kiss me and I can taste the bitter coffee on his tongue, as it strokes against mine. Slow and deep.

I put the cup down to the side before my arms reach up, holding onto his shoulders, his hair falling to the front, the tips of it brushing over my skin. I push some of it back, my fingers tangle in the long strands, while I answer his kiss.

He's not breaking away, still caging me in, even though one of his hands moves to my panties. The fingers toying with the hem, easily slipping under the fabric. My legs spread even wider, I squirm into his touch and our kiss gets messier, sloppier. His thumb finds my clit, softly pressing against it, and the light touch makes me needy for more.

"Fuck, please.", I whimper into the kiss, and I can feel his lips turn up into a smile. He breaks away, keeping up the constant brushes against my clit, kissing down to my neck.

My hand tries to reach for his dick, but he catches my wrist. "Just- let me.", he murmurs, pressing his hot mouth against my pulse point. Sucking on it softly. A needy mewl escapes me when his middle finger slips into me. Just one digit, not quite enough to fill me up, even with his big fingers.

Soft teasing touches, enough to get me worked up, but not enough to get me anywhere near finishing. And he knows what he's doing.

König pulls back, his lids hooded, his gaze intently on me, which makes me acutely aware of the expression on my own face, the O shape of my mouth. His finger is still moving inside me, the brushes against the most sensitive spot make me squirm.

I teether on the edge of an orgasm, until he pushes another one inside me, filling me up. His fingers move fast now, against my fluttering walls. Coaxing the release out of me and I come, pulsing around them. Leaving me wet and needy for more touches.

He pulls the panties over my pussy again, the fabric soaking up my juices in an instant. His hand clasps over it, softly massaging over it, until they soaked wet with my own juices.

König simply pushes his sweatpants down, pulling out his cock, letting it rest against my clothed pussy. Then he spits and a dollop of saliva drops onto my panties. The sound alone makes me whimper, while I lean back until my shoulderblades hit the cabinets behind me.

The spit runs down, right over the tip of his dick. He drags it through it, spreading the wetness on his length, soaking my underwear even more. Slow and deliberate, taking his time. The slick just being enough, so he can flit over it.

I groan at the sight, the filthy little move making me even hotter. He pulls up one eyebrow while looking at me, the smirk on his lips infuriatingly cocky. He ruts his hips forward, his hard dick pushing against my pussy lips and clit. The friction due to the fabric in between us, against my sensitive skin, is almost too much to handle, my hands gripping his arms, nails digging into his biceps.

His hands splayed on my thighs and he looks down, my eyes following his until we're both fixed on the spot where he is rubbing himself against me. The little hickeys on the skin next to it. His thumb coasts over the bitemark on my inner thigh, a faint imprint still showing up. He lifts his hand for just a moment, pressing a kiss to his pointer and middle finger and then pressing them onto the mark.

If I wasn't so wound tight from his teasing touches, I think I would've actually awww'ed at the little gesture, him kissing the bite better. Like this, I only sigh, grinding against his dick, searching for more friction.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting against mine. "Fuck, I need to be inside you.", he grunts, his words sending a shiver down my spine. He lifts me from the countertop, my legs wrapping around him.

"What, no magic condoms appearing out of thin air this time?", I tease him, my fingers stroking over his shoulders.

“The magician is out of props for such stunts.”, he grumbles. “And there will still be enough time to fuck you on every surface in the whole house.”

He hurries upstairs to the bedroom where he sets me down on the bed and we both scramble to get off our clothes. I pull my shirt over my head and fall into the soft mattress, watching him shed his. His dick is hanging out his sweatpants, half caught in the waistband, bobbing up and down with his movements before he lets the pants fall down to the floor.

He grabs a condom out of the pack that's lying out on the nightstand, the packaging torn at the front, and puts the rubber on.

My eyes pan up from the dark fluff of his happy trail, the tummy, the upper abs and his huge pecs, dark hair peppered over them. His nipple piercing. The broad shoulders, adorned with black ink that spans down his arms as well. Trying not to look at the parts where cuts and other scars disturbed the otherwise impeccable images inked into the skin.

He looks back at me, from underneath his eyebrows, one of them quirking up, as he climbs onto the mattress, his weight pushing it down.

I yelp and giggle, as he grabs me by the hips, pulls me into him, until the swells of my ass hit his thick thighs. My legs drop to the side on their own, and he takes that as the invitation it is, his hand pulling the wet panties to the side and just slipping into me.

We both groan as he settles deep inside me, the stretch of his thickness making my head drop back and my eyes roll back.

His hand catches my chin, softly digging into it. Making me look up as he sits back on his knees and slowly starts to fuck me.

“See how fucking pretty you are?”

His eyes are on me, on my face, while I look up at the mirror, focused in on the point where we are connected. Seeing how his dick pushes into me, until he's balls deep, his tip pressing up against my cervix.

Sliding out, inch by inch, almost completely pulling out. In again. I feel the stretch as my pussy takes him in. It's a tight fit, but I'm wet and dripping from how he worked me up.

And out. The feeling of emptiness only dissipates, when his hips snap forward, filling me up quickly, and a moan drops from my lips, the shape contorted to an O.

He starts to fuck me harder, his hand coming around my throat, his fingers closing around my neck, gentler than I would have liked. Pulling me into him while he pounds into me. His hand is other still grabbing onto my panties, the fabric aching as he uses it as leverage to move me into his thrusts.

Rip.

The sound of fabric ripping cuts through the otherwise soft erotic soundscape. The drowsiness drops out of his gaze, his eyes widen in shock, as he looks down, stopping his thrusts. "Scheiße, sorry.", he curses.

I laugh a bit while I shake my head. "Don't worry, it's just clothes.", sitting up on my elbows, reaching out for him. Needing him to continue.

He lets go of them, the fabric hanging from my hips, and leans forward, pressing a deep kiss onto my mouth in apology. His hand softly strokes the side of my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. Close, so close, his forehead resting against mine, as he rolls his hips against me.

He straightens back up, picking up his thrusts again. His arm spans over my whole body, the muscled limb covering half of me. I feel so small compared to him, the contrast so stark when I'm splayed out like this in front of him.

His hand moves down a bit and his thumb pushes against my lips. I lick it, play with it and then release it with a pop, but just a moment later two of his fingers push into my mouth again.

He sinks in deep, my lips closing around them. Two is almost too much already. I start to lick them, to suck on his fingers, hesitatingly at first, but the little sounds that drop from his lips spur me on.

He moves them in unison with the pushes of his dick into me. The combined touches making me lose my mind fast. It almost was like he was fucking me from the front and back at the same time.

I gag around him, spit coats his digits as I suck them off like I would another part of him. And I guess, he is thinking about that as well, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

The sight mirrored back to me – of his dick pounding into me, while his fingers are fucking my mouth all sloppily, pushing into the wet heat, my lips barely reaching the lettering on his knuckles, is getting me worked up.

From the way he's looking at me, his eyes fixed on my face, while I swallow him up, it's driving him crazy too. Groaning, as I take him deep.

Him, just him, fucking me. And me at his mercy. Full, so full of him. And I can't help but think about what it would be like to have him fill all of my holes. The thought alone sends a tingle of filthy desire down my spine and I hum around him.

"Fuck, look at you, taking me so well.", he drawls. His words, the soft growl in them, wash over me and I can feel the zap of pleasure deep, when he bottoms me out, his dick hitting the right spot again.

I come, my body arching off the sheets, my sighs and screams muffled by the fingers in my mouth, as my eyes roll back.

He doesn't stop, fucking me through it. My pussy squeezes around him, and while I still come down from the orgasm, I can feel his other hand grabbing my hip, holding tight. His fingers still in my mouth, stroking against my tongue. Sinking into my throat, the letters on his knuckles disappearing as he pushes further in, and I gag around them once again.

They leave my mouth, all of a sudden, and I take a deep breath. "Please fuck, I-", he groans. "I want to come in your mouth. May I?" The inflection in his voice is almost pleading.

I nod, the thought alone sending another shiver of arousal through me. “Yes.”, I answer breathlessly, still a little hazy from my orgasm.

He pulls back entirely, his dick slipping out of my pussy. I scramble onto my knees, while he gets up from the bed, standing in front of it.

Getting off the condom quickly, his hand running up and down his length, continuing to chase his release. My spit is still on the two digits that were just inside me, now slowly coating his cock.

I press a soft kiss to the tip that is leaking precum, tasting the saltiness on my tongue. Flicking it over the piercing. My eyes pan up, searching for his, before I take him a little deeper into my mouth. Sucking on his tip while he jerks himself off. Hasty and desperate. A rumbly moan shakes his chest, his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck, gonna cum.", he mutters, the words all breathy.

I hum around his dick, licking and sucking eagerly, when he spills onto my tongue and down my throat. I lick up every single drop, swallowing it all. He shakes and shivers when I don't stop sucking until he's spent.

I release him with pop, when his fingers grip my chin, and open my mouth to show him. "Good fucking girl.", he drawls, the praise washing over me, as I sit back on my knees. He crouches down a bit, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. Like he's waiting for something, but he doesn't say anything.

My cheeks blush red, as I remember what we talked about before. "Thank you, Sir.", I say, looking him straight into his eyes.

His answer is a deep satisfied sound, almost turning into a growl, as he leans forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss. Crawling into bed again, pulling me onto his front, until I’m strewn over him like a blanket that isn’t even big enough for the big man. He’s softly stroking my back, the touches comforting and gentle.

I push my cheek into his pecs, the hairs on his chest tickling the soft skin, and I breathe in his scent. The warm calming tone. I feel his upper body rising and sinking with every single breath of his, until we are in unison. The deep calmness almost carries me away, and I feel myself getting sleepy. I mean, we didn’t get a lot of sleep. And getting fucked liked this was tiring, although not tiresome at all.

In the silence around us, a thought of mine cuts through post-fuck haze.

“I don’t wanna go home.”, I whisper against his chest, after looking for the right words to say.

His hand stops for just a second. “Then don't.”, he answers simply, continuing his soft caresses.

I lift my head from his pec, looking at him. “Are you sure? I don't want to disturb your vacation.”, I ask.

“I'm not on vacation, I'm on leave.”, he explains. “And you're not disturbing anything.” A little reassuring smile is appearing on his lips.

“I didn’t bring much though. Not even like any more clothes.”, I say hesitatingly.

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to put you in my stuff to keep you here?”, he asks, the smile widening a bit.

I laugh. “I fear, I won't fit into any of that. I mean, I think I could build a tent to sleep in from the shirts you wear.”

“That's fair.”, he grins at me, pushing my hair out of my face. And then he kisses me again, sweet and slow, until I sigh against his lips.

“You have to stop kissing me like that.”, I say, teasingly.

His smirk drops from his face. “Why?”, he asks.

“Because it makes me want to sit on your dick again.”, I jokingly confess.

He starts laughing, his whole body shaking. “That can be arranged.”, he grins at me.

“But – we can’t stay in bed the whole weekend.”, I retort.

“We can’t?”, he pipes up, his question somewhere between a pouty joke and sincere query.

I think about it for a second. “Mmh, I don’t know. Might tire you out, old man.”, I tease him, sticking my tongue out at him.

His eyes light up, all of a sudden, I get flipped, the whole world is spinning around me. He is on top of me, his weight presses me down into the mattress. His thighs spread my legs for him, his dick lying over my tummy, already hard again.

He grabs another condom. “If you keep this up, we’re gonna go through the whole packet.”, he jokes, one side of his mouth topping up in a smirk.

“Is that a challenge?”, I ask, caressing down his chest, inching in on his dick, while he is still fiddling with the rubber.

He grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, stretching me out on the mattress, while I grin up at him, splayed out like that.

“If you want it to be…”, he whispers against my face, his lips kissing down to my neck while he pushes inside me.

The mug on the kitchen counter is still half full, the coffee now cold. I take a sip, relishing the milky liquid running down my throat. Sitting here at the kitchen island in just his shirt. The Dark Tranquility one he wore when we first met.

“What are you doing?”, he asks me, utterly confused, as he sees me. He put on his sweatpants again and they are as delicious as they were before. Especially in combination with his naked chest.

“Finishing my coffee.”, I explain, taking another long sip.

“But that’s… cold.”, he says, the disgust palpable.

“Yeah, I like it like that. I drink them lukewarm. At best.”, I explain, with full confidence.

“Woman, you drive me crazy.”, he sighs, then laughs, making himself another coffee. Fresh, hot and black. “One of these days, we’re gonna manage to drink the drinks at the temperature they’re so supposed to be enjoyed at.” The loud noise of the coffee maker cuts through my laughter.

“We can certainly try.”, I say, taking another sip from my blasphemous coffee.

“So, about your stuff.”, he starts, as he leans against the kitchen island. The mug in his hand is looking ridiculously small compared to him. Just like me.

“Yeah, my panties are kinda ruined now, too.” I say and shoot him a pointed look.

“I don’t have any panties that will fit you.”, he says, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“No shit sherlock.”, I remark sarcastically, lifting the shirt that is hanging from my shoulders. That’s almost reaching to my knees. You could fit three of me in there.

“We can go to your apartment, you can look after Mimi and get some clothes, and then come back here. It’s no big deal.”, he suggests.

I sigh. “You sure?”

He nods, just waiting for my answer patiently. While I contemplate if it was okay to stay here for longer.

“Okay, quickly, just to get some stuff.”, I agree.

When we go to leave, I notice that my shoes are neatly lined up, not at all how I left them, when I stormed into the house yesterday evening. Standing just right beside an old pair of his combat boots.

but simon loves to tease! loves to rile himself up as a means to get you whining and begging for him. he likes to tease you, but he loves to tease himself more. it gives him a chance to have to need to sink into your pussy so bad. reminds him that he can have it all he wants for himself. but he just won't take it! he stays rubbing his cock along your sticky folds so it drags along your clit.

every time you think he's just going to slide in? he doesn't. his tip catches just barely on your entrance, swirls the juices around there and brings it up to your clit so he can use the head to smear it in little circles. makes your legs quiver as you beg him to put it inside so he can fuck you. you try to spread your legs wider for him too, but he does the opposite.

wants to keep this up for just a little longer, just a bit, he promises. but he always lies! so he takes your legs and puts both of them over one shoulder, so your thighs squeeze around his cock. fucks himself between your plush thighs and makes sure his cock keeps grinding against your pussy.

it riles you up so much that you try to grind you hips back against him. in hopes that maybe he'll slip in and just keep thrusting now that he's inside. but it's like he knows when he brings your legs a little higher, making your hips rise so that you're nearly perpendicular to the bed. rises up with you so he can keep sliding between your pussylips without distraction. it's wet. you can hear it. can see it every time his cockhead peeks through your thighs and smears your juices all over you.

his grunts and groans are so much. that eventually you feel your pussy throbbing against his cock as the veins give your clit just enough friction to make you cum. he watches intently at the way your face contorts and how you're grabbing at his thighs, the the sheets, at his hand gripping your thigh so tight. anywhere you can reach because you need something to hold onto because you just might cum!

he lets you get higher and higher, thrusting so meanly against your pussy. and when you're finally so close, he times it just perfectly and adjusts your legs and angles his hips. so that way he can slide into you so nicely on your already spasming walls. he groans when you cum around him, being so stretched full by his cock that the squeeze is even tighter. he huffs as you whine from the way his dick twitches inside of you, waiting to start thrusting and finally fucking into you. you try to decipher the way he smiles as he pulls his hips back before slamming into you.

It could never be enough.

You let out a gasp as you pressed your face down into the pillow, touching your clit with one hand, chasing an orgasm with your legs trembling—it wasn't a want, it was a need that went deeper than anything else.

You bit into the fabric as you felt it approaching, trying to imagine in your mind that it was Simon's fingers touching you, pushing into your wet hole, preparing you for his size, his cock thrusting deliciously until it made you see stars and roll your eyes back into your skull—

"Feeling good, love?"

Your eyes snapped open as you shrieked at the sound of his voice in your ear. He was standing at the side of the bed, leaning closer to your face with a grin, your breath heavy from how close you were to orgasm.

"Simon, I—"

"Ah-ah, none of that now," he sits at your side, one of his hands massaging the soft skin of your ass. "Wanna tell me what you were doing?"

"I, uhm..." he slaps one of your cheeks at your answer, spanking you in quick succession as you continue to remain silent, gasping at your sensitive skin that quickly became hot and red, the pain stinging and tingling your nerves.

He doesn't waste any more time as he pushes the fingers into your dripping hole, watching you try to wriggle away, but he holds you in place as he twists them, making you whimper as he continues to spank your ass. You hear him unbuckle his belt and trousers and push his hard cock past your hole until his length is completely inside, both of you breathing hard.

"I bet you wanted this, huh?" he lifts his hips only to suddenly push himself back inside, driving himself in and out steadily. "I bet you imagined my hard cock inside that wet pussy, didn't you?"

"Yes—yes, please—" he grabs your neck from behind and holds you up as he pounds into you with quick and hard thrusts, his cock hitting your spongy spot each time and making you squirm with pure pleasure. "I just want you, Simon!"

He grunts, his fingers finding your clit as your body shakes with pure pleasure. "You're right, only I can—fuck, I'm going to make you feel really good now, yeah?"

You nod, whimpering as he makes you cum with his fingers on your clit, but he doesn't stop at all—he pins you down as he continues to assault your clit, his cock driving you mad as it pushes inside you, skin slapping against skin as he continues to use your pussy to make himself cum, you feel another orgasm approaching—your legs shaking as you press your face into the pillow, barely able to hold back as you moan his name.

Your breathing is ragged, barely able to hear yourself as you feel your hole now empty, his cum slowly dripping out of you. You feel his hand cupping your hips, more gently than before as he turns you onto your back, his hands traveling around your body.

"Why didn't you ask?" you see him furrow his eyebrows, feeling your stomach twist with guilt.

"I didn't want to bother you, you said that—" he push his index fingers to your lips, silencing you.

He grabs you and pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his arms around your body. "You can always tell me and I'll help you," he pecks your lips with a gentle kiss, smiling softly. "Even if it's your needy little pussy that needs my help."

Your cheeks literally burn at his words and you hide in the crook of his neck as you hear him laughing—he always enjoyed seeing you so flustered.

with your fingers intertwined with those of ghost, you slipped into the kitchen. on your faces played the warmest of grins, and you tried your best to bite back your laughs and your giggles.

simon's shushing was rushed as his hand cupped your cheek and led you into a deep kiss.

from his lips, you found solace; from the way that he backed you against the kitchen wall, something familiar.

to kiss with lips brightly smiling was not an easy job, the clanging of your teeth together only brightening your joys. 

"there’s no way they won't hear us," you managed through your laughs and kisses, your twinkling eyes finding him. "they know. they have to know—“

"if you’d come up with a better reason for us to sneak off—," his laugh was low, voice deep as he tried to keep it only slightly above a whisper. "'we need to check the a/c'? it's fuckin' freezin' out there, my love."

you laughed with a shake of your head. "you know I've never been able to lie."

"so maybe you should've told the truth," he raised an amused brow. 

"sorry friends, ghost wants to bend me over the kitchen counter while you dine in the next room ov—," his lips on yours cut your sentence short: a warm moan sliding from your lips as you felt your body submitting to him. 

for who were you to deny it, when your own skin was burning with your need for him? when his voice, his touch, his scent: his love for you was what fueled you? 

when ghost—you smiled only brighter as he forced himself to break the kiss—was all that you had ever wanted.

"I did not drag you with me to bend you over, my love," his chuckle was warm: the back of his hand caressing your cheek, and his eyes darkened with playful mischief. “no, darlin’. fuckbuddies get bent over. and—let’s see—girlfriends get bent over. maybe hookups from pubs, and—“

with a laugh, your hand moved to cover his mouth. “if you think I want to hear a list of everyone you’ve bent over in the past—“

"but you—," his fingers on your wrist were gentle, as he freed his grinning lips from your hold, “are not just a girlfriend or a casual fuck. no, you—,” he smiled against your lips, warm and bright, “are my wife, darlin’. and wives get fuckin’ worshipped.”

“even with our entire group of friends in the next room over?” not even the slightly nervous knit of your brows could hide the burn in your eyes as his thumb brushed against your bottom lip. 

teasing: his eyes dark, as he spoke. “if our friends think for a moment that I don’t fuck you every night, and wake you up each morning with my mouth on you—,” he planted a kiss on your lips. “it’s about fuckin’ time they get it right.”

god.

"ghost—," your laugh was warm as you watched him kneel before you on the floor of the townhouse kitchen—of your kitchen—the sight alone enough to coax a soft breath from your lips. 

it was the hunger in his eyes. the twinkle in them as his fingers rested on your ankles and he began to trace his way up, and up, and up your legs: his touches burning through your sheer stockings, held up by a garter belt.

each touch was getting you only more breathless: each of his kisses planted on your thighs full of adoration.

ghost knew it too: you could see it in his eyes as he looked at you, the man downright grinning between his kisses. "breathe, darlin'."

"stop teasing me and I will."

"stop teasing and do what, instead?" 

as much as you wanted to curse him for making you plead and beg, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks with your smile. "need to feel your tongue on me, ghost. please—"

"this tongue?"

yes, that fucking tongue: the tongue of which tip ran up your slit, covered only by the ridiculously thin material of your panties. the kisses he pressed on your heat were warm and soft: there for no other reason do but to tease you, and fuck, did it work.

"ghost—"

"that the tongue you want to come on, sweetheart?"

"yes, please—"

he laughed against your heat: the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine as his gentle hands guided you to spread your legs for him. 

and even as you felt the subtle squeeze of his hands on your thighs—impatient—he did not rush his movements. even though you knew him to fight back his need to taste you, ghost took his time sliding his hands to your hips and kissing your lower stomach.

chuckling as you gasped from the soft tickle. 

"that's it, darlin'. I wanna hear every fuckin' sound passin' 'em pretty lips of yours, eh?"

"what if they—"

"even if that means that our friends will fuckin' hear us," he laughed against your skin, lips pressing kisses sloppier and sloppier onto your skin. "they don't wanna hear me fuckin' my wife, they can leave."

and action.

"sounds a bit dra—" his fingers hooking around your panties drew the fabric aside, and your words got cut off by your moan as his mouth found your clit. "fuck, ghost—"

whatever patience the man had managed to muster for the moments that he had spent teasing you now flew out the window, as his hands on your hips drew you to him. he breathed in your scent, his tongue sliding between your lips from your clit to your entrance and to your clit again.

flicking and sucking, goddamn devouring.

and you lost it.

head tilting back against the cool wall of the kitchen, your eyes blinked shut as you submitted to his licks and caresses: his kisses and his groans.

his praises, as the sweetest of moans and gasps: of cries and pleas passed your lips.

"that's it, darlin'. good fuckin’ girl—"

from his tongue, you found the death of a single thought that had ever existed in your mind. from his fingers moving to circle and tease your entrance, you found the gates of heaven.

"fuck, sweetheart—," he laughed against your heat, "you're fuckin' clenching around nothing. that fuckin' needy for me, yeah?"

"ghost, please—"

"that all you have to say?"

god—

"I need your fingers."

"good fuckin' girl."

two of his digits slid into you. first knuckle, second knuckle.

by the time the third knuckle was pressing against your opening, your own fingers had tangled around his hair and his mouth found contact with your clit once more. 

you could hear just how drenched you were: your arousal surely dripping down his fingers and coating his hand, too, as he curled his digits inside you. 

knowing exactly how to touch you.

how to kiss you.

how to get your thighs to begin to shake on each side of his head, as his tongue continued its steady pace on your clit. its movements were exactly what you needed from him: the pressure and pace driving you closer and closer to your orgasm with each flick, lick, or circle drawn around it.

you were so close, so fucking close that all you needed was—"fuck, ghost!"

a third finger slid into you, yet this time it was not only the thickness and length of his digits that made you cry out. not only the pace, or the way he curled them inside you that made you buck your hips closer to him.

this time, it was the feeling of something cool at the base of his finger.

his wedding band: the one that showed his love to you, and you alone. his adoration, so visible in his eyes as you glanced down at him. so proud of you, so encouraging.

come for me, his eyes told. come on, sweetheart. I got you. I fuckin’ got you.

and that reminder—that promise was all you needed.

with a desperate call for his name, you stumbled over the edge: your thoughts clouding and your body trembling as you came shaking on his fingers and tongue, the man glowing from the sight.

from the sounds.

from the feeling of you clenching around his fingers as he made your orgasm last and last until you were squirming away from his touch, breathless yet glowing. 

"so fuckin' beautiful—"

to have him between your legs was one thing. to have ghost standing up just to draw you into the deepest kiss—to taste yourself on his lips and tongue—was a whole other kind of divine.

"did so fuckin' good, darlin'," his words were chuckled against your lips between his kisses, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. "made me so fuckin’ proud, yeah?"

in his eyes, you could see it all, and as you beamed from the sudden surge of happiness—from the adrenaline rush of your orgasm or the softness of his gaze, you did not know—ghost beamed with you.

happy.

“I fuckin’ adore you.” 

genuine.

"what d’you think, my love? think our guests are keeping themselves entertained?"

with a warm laugh, you slipped from between him and the wall, your fingers in his drawing him with you as you hopped on the kitchen island—glowing with your eagerness as your fingers moved to fumble with his belt. "fuck the guests."

"no," ghost chuckled against your temple, grinning lips kissing your forehead as he freed his cock, the tip glossy with his precum. "no, darlin', but I will fuck my wife."

your laugh was bright and the roll of your eyes playful. "smooth."

just as smooth as the flick of his wrist was as he drew your panties to the side.

just as smooth as the push of his hips was as he eased into you.

"oh, god, ghost—"

"fuckin' 'ell, darlin'—," his voice was a low rumble, his forehead leaning against yours. hands grabbing your hips to slide you closer to him on the counter. 

greedy.

so goddamn impatient, and not for a moment could you blame him. not when you were clenching around him, your lips parting in the deepest of breaths and moans just from the feeling of his weight in you.

"bloody hell, sweetheart—"

it's like you were made for each other. his length, his girth, the way he seemed to fill you up in a way no one else ever had. in a way no one else ever would, you were sure as he bottomed out with a deep curse and a breathless laugh.

one, that your own lips parted in as well. for you had learned to recognize the way that his cock was twitching inside you. you knew that his patience was being tested: the patience of ghost who you knew wanted nothing more than to—

his fingers placed on your throat were gentle, yet his lips finding yours for a kiss were everything but as he picked up his pace. 

no one.

each thrust of his cock, hot and heavy and fucking pulsating inside you coaxed moans and breaths and whimpers only more desperate than the previous from your lips.

no one could ever fuck you like he fucked you.

"ghost, please—"

"you're so fuckin' beautiful like this—," he grinned against your cheek, lips pressing sloppy kisses onto your skin as he fucked into you. "my darlin' hiked up on a fuckin' kitchen counter. pretty little dress messy from your juices, fuckin' stained when I come in you. gonna pull 'em panties back on and make you go back to the guests, yeah? entertain 'em like the good little host you are, with my fuckin' cum dripping out of you—"

his movements inside you were ruthless: his cock hitting the exact right spot to make you cry out his name again and again, so fucking fast and deep—

"gonna take you like this every day for the rest of our lives, my love—," his lips were brushing against your ear, his fingers bruising your hips through the fabric of your dress. "wanna be mine forever, yeah?"

please.

fuck, if it wasn’t the only goddamn thing you had ever wanted—

"yours," you managed, your brows furrowing as you felt the familiar heat building up and up at the pit of your stomach: your desperation for him audible in your voice. "I want to be yours. fuck, ghost—I fucking love you. I love you—"

the words passing your lips were all that it took for the orgasm to rush through the body of—

ghost.

with a deep call for your name and a breathless curse, ghost's forehead fell against yours as his cock twitched inside you: ropes of hot cum filling you up and coating your walls.

too early.

too fucking early.

trying your best to collect yourself: to bite down your surprise, you moved to arch your back in trying to keep the scene from falling apart. yet it was the deep and low laugh that rumbled from ghost's chest that made you stumble. "that goddamn fuckin' line."

"and cut!"

"the I love you? you knew it was in the script!" despite the audible amusement in your laugh, it was nothing but soft and warm: your gaze gentle as it found that of ghost.

"it not the fuckin' same to read it on paper and to have you lookin’ at me like—," ghost laughed, shaking his head as he blinked his eyes shut. "guys I’m fuckin’ sorry, yeah? just give me five, and I’ll be ready to go again—"

from the clap of price's hands, you turned to the director who was now shaking his head with a deep laugh. "just keep your position, yeah? they'll check the details for continuity. we'll go through the footage and—you both good to keep going?"

you nodded your heads with soft chuckles.

"good work," price called out with a grin. "can't blame you for the slip. it's an easy fix with a camera pan around the flowers, so no damage done. take a break and we'll keep going, yeah?"

and just like that, your domestic little bubble had popped. 

suddenly the cozy townhouse kitchen was filled with the sounds of your crewmembers talking and shuffling around. the boom mic above your heads was pulled back, and the camera crew—now calling out warm jokes and laughs to the two of you—moved out of the way as someone rushed to you to document your positions. the way the hem of your dress fanned around you, and the position of his hand on your cheek; the angle of your head, and the way his hair was pushed to the side.

yet not even after the perky woman had given a thumbs up for you to move, did ghost step away from you. it was something the two of you had agreed on beforehand: the consent given for him to stay inside you between scenes. 

to help you, and to help him. 

just work.

"you did so fuckin' good, love." ghost's gaze, warm, found yours.

the set around the two of you began to quiet down once more. somewhere behind your back, you could hear price and the writers going through the last minutes of footage scene by scene, yet suddenly it was just you and him again.

this time friends.

costars.

just costars.

"you too," you smiled at him. "I loved—," you laughed, soft. "this is a little stupid, maybe. but the way the ring felt inside me was—"

"oh yeah?" he grinned, a hint of something bright waking up in his eye. "is it a ring kink or just the idea of gettin' fucked by your husband that gets you goin'?"

god.

"probably a bit of both," you laughed. his fingers were caressing your cheek gently, and to feel him still inside you—

just work.

"wouldn't mind filmin' more shit like this with you," he then spoke with a smile. "domestic, y'know? it feels—real. I mean, bloody hell, that's why—" he laughed, the sound a low rumble, and the warmth of it only brightened your smile.

"I think we might be," you wet your lips. "they built this set for us. just you and I. it hasn't been used in any other production before, because they wanted it to feel more real. more special for the—"

"fans," ghost laughed. "right. fuckin' A. they include that library too you want so bad?"

you furrowed your brows. "why do you think I—"

“come on, love.” the twinkle in his eyes was playful as he quirked a brow. "with the amount of romance porn you read—"

"romance porn?" your laugh was breathless as your hands moved to push him gently. "it's not—"

"sweetheart, I've seen the fuckin' twinkle in your eyes. the way you squeeze your fuckin’ thighs when you browse away on your phone." his grinning lips planted a kiss on your forehead, the man now shaking with his repressed laugh. "you say it isn’t what I think it is and I believe you. but after all this time knowin’ you—"

his arms closed around your upper body to draw you into his embrace, his chest muffling your laugh.

he was warm, and he was familiar.

"you’re the worst,” you managed a gentle chuckle.

"thought you loved me."

he was safe.

"that was just a part of the script."

"no yeah, fuckin' of course," ghost chuckled into your hair. "as much as me lovin’ the idea of you bein' all mine was."

and there, in the kitchen of the townhouse that was built for the two of you and you alone, he was home. 

His cock tightened in his pants even more at how vulnerable you were already being for him. He was going to have so much fun playing with you, he knows you’ll beg for him. 

“I-,“ you choke on your words as you feel his hard cock throb between your ass cheeks. He was pressed so tightly against you that you could feel every part of him, and you couldn’t deny the need that ran through your veins. 

The masked man had busted through your front door minutes ago, chasing you throughout your house before cornering you. It all happened so quickly that it took a moment to process things. 

You immediately pleaded with him, begging him to take what he wanted and go. But what he wanted was you. 

He had tied your hands behind your back as he ghosted his calloused fingers over your body. And his voice, he had whispered so many things to you in such little time. He had many plans for you.

“What was that?” He slammed your head against the wall hard enough that you winced. “You’ve gotta have some words in that pretty little head of yours. I haven’t fucked you dumb… yet.”

You shivered as chills ran down your spine, and goosebumps covered your arms. “Just- please don’t hurt me.” 

“Hurt you?” He rested his masked cheek against yours, inhaling your sweet scent. “There’s always fun in a little pain,” the blade dug into your skin enough to cut you a little, causing you to whine. “I bet your cunt is throbbing.”

It’s a shame that he was right. Feeling the pain of it all did make your cunt throb in such a blissful way. Your face was heating up in embarrassment.

In one swift motion, you were turned around and pushed to your knees, now eye level with the growing tent in the man’s pants. “Well, it’s not gonna suck itself.” 

You gulped as he palmed himself. The heat radiated off his body, you could feel it engulf you. You could tell that he was big when he was pressed up against you, but seeing it more up close, you weren’t sure how it was going to fit. 

Hands grabbed your hair from the roots and angled your head back. You couldn’t see the man’s face, but you somehow knew that his eyes were dark with lust. “Don’t worry, I’m sure we can make it fit nice and perfect in your mouth.”

The man pulled your head so it rested against his upper thigh, his cock throbbing under the confines of his pants. You licked over his clothed cock, where the wet spot was forming from all the leaking precum. Your lips closed as much as it could around what you assumed was the tip, suckling on it.

A groan reverberated from his chest, and his head fell back as you took him by surprise. The warmth of your mouth over his hard cock had him bucking his hips. “You’re a desperate slut, aren’t you?”

He reached down and undid his zipper, pulling out his cock and slapping it against your cheek. “Let’s see you try and take the whole thing in your mouth.”

You whimper as the precum dribbled from the slit and over his knuckles as he pumped his cock. It made your mouth water with an urgent type of neediness.

“I don’t have the fucking patience for waiting.” He guided his cock to your lips, smearing precum over them. “Now, open that pretty mouth so I can fuck it.”

Without even a second thought, you obediently opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. Once, twice, he tapped it against your wet muscle before sliding it fully in, resting at the back of your throat. He was right about having no patience.

“Jesus- c’mon, you can do it.”

His cock hit the back of your throat with each thrust of his hips. The mask did little to conceal his loud groans as you swallowed around him. “Knew I had to fuck this mouth as soon as I saw you. Ah shit- knew you’d be such a good girl and take it too.”

Tears began to fall down your cheeks as he held your head still, his cock sliding in and out of the back of your throat that you barely had time to breathe. You could feel your lungs burn with the need for oxygen. 

He gnawed at the inside of his cheek the further you took him into your mouth. In all honesty, he could blow his load right now, but he had to hold it at bay to make this night last.

You tried to rip out of the restraints he had your arms in, but the rope he brought was too strong. It kept you in a docile, just how he wanted you to be for him. 

“Awe, are you crying?” He swiped a few tears away as he pushed his cock further down. It was so far down your throat that your nose was in the thick patch of hair at the base of it, and his balls pressed wetly against your chin. “It’s a good thing I like criers then, isn’t it?”

He pulled you off his cock, strings of saliva connecting the two of you. “Do you like having your face fucked?” 

You looked up at him with big doe eyes, makeup smeared along with your tears, and your lips swollen from being used. No words found their way out of your open mouth. 

Slap! A ringed hand came in contact with your cheek, a pathetic, high pitched moan to escape your throat. “Oh, fuck,” He laughed at you as your face heated up in embarrassment. “You really do like pain. What a dirty fucking whore. Now answer the question.”

“Yes…” Your voice was meek, quiet. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you are. 

He pushed your head further down and ran the velvety skin of his heavy sack across your lips. “Be a good slut and suck my balls, yeah?”

Your tongue rolled against them, massaging them before suckling on them. You couldn’t help but to moan at the feeling of them.

Above you, the man grabbed his cock, stroking in slow pumps and smearing some of the precum across your forehead. “Should I make a mess on your face? Paint you a pretty little picture.” 

His balls fell from your mouth as you went to shake your head, but a slap left your face stinging in pain mixed with pleasure. 

A whine left the back of your throat, causing him to chuckle at how much of a pain slut you really are. That’s information he’d use later. 

“Did I tell you to stop? Put them back in your mouth.” 

You let out a huff, pouting out your lips. “And if I don’t want to?” 

Another slap, and he was yanking your head back to his cock, waiting for you to get back to sucking, moaning the second your tongue licked at the leaky slit. 

You couldn’t not obey him, not when his cock was throbbing hard in front of your face, the tip red and angry. 

“See? It’s not that hard to be a good, useful slut for me. I bet you like this too, huh? Being used like a stupid toy.”

Your cunt throbbed between your legs, silently begging for some attention. How could you be enjoying this? This man broke in, was claiming your body as his to use, but your body wanted it- craved it even. God, you were disgusting.

“Wrap your lips around it,” he guided your head up and down his cock, the vein on the underside gliding easily across your tongue. 

“Tell me you love having my cock in your mouth. Fucking. Tell. Me.” He enunciated each word with his cock thrusting down your throat.

You tried, as much as you could, to talk around his cock. It caused more drool to drip from your mouth, down your chin, and across the peaks of your tits that spilled over the top of your dress.

“Can’t talk?” He ran a thumb over one of your hollowed cheeks, feeling his cock rest in your mouth. “Is your mouth too full? Too busy getting me off?” He was mocking your struggles, fake sympathy lacing his voice.

He held your head still, thrusting quickly into the back of your throat. The loud, wet gawk, gawk, gawk sounds of your gagging echoed off the walls. As embarrassing as the sound was, it made your cunt become more slick, your panties becoming more wet the more you heard yourself taking every inch of his cock.

A string of curse words slipped past his lips as your throat constricted around his massive cock. He swore he could’ve cum from that sight alone, the days leftover makeup running down your face, lips swollen and red, eyes glassy from all the tears you had been crying. You were the most perfect site he had ever seen. 

Between you swallowing around his cock and the warmth of your mouth, the man standing became closer and closer to cumming. And you could tell it by the twitch of his cock and see it in his stomach muscles tightening under his shirt. “Y-you better- fuck yes- swallow my cum.”

One hard thrust and a loud groan later and his body was shaking, cum shooting onto your tongue. Some of it dribbled out of the sides of your mouth, making you more of a mess. 

“My fucking god! You taste that? You taste what your mouth did?” He pulled his cock out, his cum and your spit stringing from it. “Show me your tongue.”

Instead of obeying this time, you spit all the cum that didn’t shoot down your throat, right onto the toe of his black boot. You made sure to look at the eye holes of the mask as you did it.

You yelped in pain as he pulled your head back, but you still had a proud smirk on your face. “Oops?” 

“Oops?” He voiced boomed, and he pushed your head down until your face was mere inches from his boot, his cum shining from the moonlight that peeked through your curtains. “Lick it up.”

You hesitated, barely sticking your tongue out. 

He lifted his foot, the toe of the boot now pressed to your lips. “Did I fucking stutter? Lick up my fucking cum.” 

The roughness of his voice has goosebumps forming over your skin. You were scared and horny, adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

You slowly licked up the mess you made, making a show of it. The salty taste lingered on your tongue until you finally swallowed, showing him that you finally did, in fact swallow.

“It’s not as funny when you have to lick my boot like some sort of pup, is it?” He pulled you to your feet and dragged you over to the couch, throwing you face down. “But it will be funny for me when you’re begging to cum on my cock, and I don’t let you.”

Your panties were pulled to the side, and your ass cheeks were spread apart as he looked at both holes that were displayed for him, deciding which one to use first. 

He breathlessly sighed as his thumbs pulled your pussy lips apart, slick stringing between them. His tongue wet his lips, a hunger for your taste growing inside him. 

He slowly dragged his thumb up and down your slit, collecting your slick, and caught your clit with the pad of his finger. You were dripping, and his eyes couldn’t leave where you clenched around nothing, a silent plea to be filled with whatever he was willing to give you. 

“You didn’t want this in the beginning, and now look,” his finger dipped in your cunt for a second, getting it nice and covered before pulling it out. He brought it to his mouth and loudly sucked on it, pulling it out with a soft pop! “You’re making a mess for it.”

The whines that fell from your mouth were loud. You wanted to speak, beg him to give you more, but all the words came out jumbled together. Your mind was already foggy from all the teasing. “I- yes- need it!” You could barely form a small sentence.

“God, you’re fucking gross for this.” He trails his gloved finger over your cunt and up to your puckered ass as he slowly rubs over the rim, “can’t wait to feel both of these holes as they squeeze my cock.” 

You heard the jingle of his belt as he pulled it through his belt loops. The hairs on your body stood up in anticipation for what was to come next. Suddenly, your mouth was dry as you tried to beg him. 

In one swift motion, his leather belt came down hard on your ass. Spank! “Tell me.” Spank! “Tell me that’s what you wanted.” Spank! “Tell me that you’re nothing but a filthy slut who likes to be fucked by a masked stranger.”

You cried out, heat rising to your skin.

Each spank, no matter how painful, made your clit throb harder. A sigh of relief fell from your lips as gloved hands rubbed over the tender, almost raw skin of your ass, soothing you. 

“I-I’m a filthy slut…,” your tongue rolled from your mouth and over your lips, trying to make your voice not so shaky. 

“And?” He waited for you to continue, his palm roughly rubbing over the welts forming from the belting.

“Who likes to be fucked by a masked stranger- oh my god.”

Two fingers quickly sunk into the wet heat of your cunt, down to the knuckles. They expertly pumped in and out at a slow pace, but it was enough to have you whimper into a pillow. “You’re making such a mess on my gloves, tsk, tsk.”

You let out a breathless sigh as he slid in two more fingers, scissoring you open. “Fuuuck.”

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” He felt you clench around his fingers and quickly pulled them out. “Oh no, no. I can’t give in that easily, can I?”

You tried to turn your head around to look at him, but he forced your face down. “Keep your head forward, got it?” 

He lifted up his mask just enough for his mouth to be free, kissing over the globe over your marked up ass. You rocked your hips back and forth, his lips comforting the sting that was still there. 

You could hear him inhale deeply. The sweet smell of your arousal had his cock twitching and leaking. He’s never smelled something so enticing. 

“Needy little thing.” He mumbled against your skin as his lips ghosted over your puckered ass. 

His tongue licked over it, the two of you moaning in unison. He moaned from the taste, and you moaned at the feeling of the feather-like touches. 

“More,” you pushed your ass closer to his face. “Pretty please.” 

He finally gave in, diving into your ass like it was his last meal. His tongue licked over your hole, getting it nice and wet before sliding it inside you. You clenched around his tongue, moaning loudly as he pumped it in and out. 

“Holy shit-,” your legs shook as his tongue opened you up more. 

He pulled back, a glob of spit fell onto the small gape that his tongue left. His thumb slides in with ease, another finger sliding in right behind it. “Look at that,” he pumped them slowly, his eyes never leaving the filled hole. “You like your ass being played with?” 

You nodded your head repeatedly, moans leaving your open mouth. “I- I love it!”

He kept his fingers deep inside your ass, his lips coming down to wrap around your throbbing, sensitive clit. His groans vibrated against you, your back arching. 

Sweat covered your body as he added a third finger to your ass, stretching your hole wide open so it could fit his thick cock. 

His tongue swirled around your clit before licking up to your entrance, teasing it before slowly sliding it in. Your eyes rolled in the back of your head, your back arching. You felt so full, and his cock wasn’t even inside you yet. 

“Taste so damn good,” he spit on your cunt, rubbing it in with his fingers. “Just like fucking honey.”

“T-thank you.” You yelped when you felt his sharp teeth nibble on your clit. The pain makes you mumble out words and moan pathetically.

“My little pain slut.” For another time tonight, you felt the blade against your skin. This time the knife dug deeper than before. 

You cried out in pleasure and pain as he carved his initials into your ass cheek, something to silently say that he owned you. He took his time, making sure that you felt every slide of the knife, the way it cut into you. 

Blood trickled from your new branding, sliding down your ass. The droplets didn’t get far, though. The man’s tongue was right behind it, licking up all that had spilled. 

Knowing that he was tasting you, your blood made the coil in your stomach almost snap. 

You were so close to cumming, you just needed a little more. “Please let me cum!” You grind against his fingers, the coil in your stomach tightening quickly. “Please, please, please!”

And just as you were about to finally cum, he pulled away, leaving both your cunt and ass empty. 

He pulled the mask down before turning your head to face him. “I said no cumming, remember?” 

You whined loudly, your fingernails making crescent shaped moons into the palms of your hands as you squeezed them. This was torture. Your body craved an orgasm so bad that your cunt was started to ache, but before you could protest, you felt the cold blade against your skin again. 

Gently, he slid the slightly bloodied knife under the waistband of your panties, quickly cutting through the fabric and ripping them from your body. 

“These are mine now.” You watched as he stuck the soaked panties into his back pocket, a little souvenir from tonight.

“Now,” he grabbed his cock and ran it through your sticky folds. “I’m gonna fuck you until you’re screaming so loud that maybe the neighbors get scared and call the cops.”

In a blink of an eye, his hips pressed against yours, and his cock was nestled deep inside your cunt. 

“Jesus- fuck!” His hands squeezed your hips, your cunt already squeezing him perfectly. “Such a tight and warm cunt. I should’ve done this a lot sooner.”

Your face fell into the couch cushions as your body adjusted to the size. He filled you to the hilt, balls squished against your clit. “O-oh, you feel so good.” 

He raked up your back, stopping at the base stopping of your skull to pull hard so your back arched. “I wanna hear you moan as you take every. fucking. inch.” He made sure to thrust with every word, his cock grazing your g-spot. It felt like the air was being punched from your lungs. 

“Yes, sir!” You moaned as he slowly dragged his cock out of you, feeling every vein, every ridge as your cunt clenched tightly around him. “Y-yes sir!”

He looked down where you two were connected, his cock already covered in arousal. “I’ve barely even fucked you, and you’re already creamin’ on my dick.” He snapped his hips, jolting your body. “Dirty girl.”

Your mouth fell open as moans spilled from your throat. Each thrust, each groan, was making you fuck back against him. “Don’t hold back.” You turned your head, resting on the arm of the couch to look at the masked man. “I-I can take it.” 

“Yeah?” He untied your arms and laughed as your sore muscles fell to your sides. His arms wrapped around your throat and pulled your body to him, your back now against his chest. “Can you take it?” 

An animalistic growl traveled from his chest as you reached below you, your hands grabbing and lightly massaging his balls as he pumped his cock into you. 

Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes locking with holes of the mask. “I know I can.”

He pushed your body flush against the couch again and fucked you like you’ve never been fucked before. 

Your body jiggled, legs shook, and eyes squeezed shut. You felt high, like your body was full of euphoria, almost on the edge of delirium from how delicious his cock was sliding in and out of your cunt. 

Lewd squelching sounds echoed off the walls, fueling him to fuck you harder, faster. It was to the point that you could barely moan anymore, only silent scream. 

“You hear that?” He pulled all the way out and slammed back in, watching your cunt suck him in. “Hear that pretty pussy make those sounds for me?”

Fingers are quickly hooked in your mouth, opening wide open. Whines, moans, whimpers; all came from your mouth and mixed with the sounds of you being fucked. You still couldn’t catch your breath. 

Drool dripped from your mouth as you tried to speak, trying to beg him more to let you cum. He knew what you were saying, though and could feel how badly you needed an orgasm in the squeeze of your cunt. 

“No, no.” He pulled out with a huff, fingers also leaving your mouth. His breathing was labored, sweat beading on his forehead under the mask.

You were on the verge of tears from how badly you needed to cum. He wasn’t being fair.

“You poor thing.” The head of his cock teased your clit, chuckling as you reached back and tried to pull him closer to you. “Maybe next time I break into your house, I’ll let you cum.”

“Give it to me now,” you sniffled. 

“Awe, that’s cute.” He rubbed up and down your back, stopping at your hips to grab them. “Now, turn the fuck over.” 

You gasped as he flipped you over with ease, showing no signs of a struggle.

“I wanna see you fall apart for me as I stuff your ass full of my cock.” He grabs your legs from behind your knees, pushing your thighs towards your chest.

This new position has your ass up enough for your hole to be on display for him to take. You held onto the back of your legs so he could spit on your puckered hole, rubbing it with his thick fingers. 

You looked down and watched him toy with you, take his time to make sure you were well lubed up. He was enjoying it, too, knowing that he was teasing you more and more. 

“You’re a fucking creep.” Your head fell back against the couch when you felt the tip of his throbbing cock barely slide inside your tight ass. It was enough to have you already panting. “Oh!”

“Say that again, baby.” Slowly, he pushed his cock inside you, inch by inch until he was bottomed out. Your ass was so full of his cock that you couldn’t move, could barely breathe. “Jesus- it’s getting me off.”

The first thrust had you seeing stars behind your eyes, feeling him stretch you wide open made your toes curl. “R-right there, yes!”

He used the grip he had on your legs as leverage, pumping in and out of you slowly until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Barely fucked your ass, and you’re already whining like a pathetic slut.” He sped up with each word, the couch scraping against the hardwood floors below it.

Groans, whines, and skin slapping against skin quickly filled the room as the two of you etched closer and closer to cumming. Your legs shook in his hand as you brought your own down to rub over your cunt, thumb catching on the bundle of nerves that had your breath hitching.

“Hold it.” He let go of your legs, giving you time to wrap them around his waist. “Fucking. Hold. It.” Each word came with a sharp slap to your tits, the pleasurable pain coursing through your body and finding home in your used, dripping cunt.

“I- I can’t-“ 

“You can!” His grunts became louder, thrusts became sloppier. You knew he was close to cumming. You only hoped he would finally let you cum.

“That’s it- keep taking it just like that, baby.” One, two, three thrusts later and he was quickly pulling out, spilling all his cum on your pretty pink cunt. “G-god dammit!” 

His cock twitched as he pumped it, making sure every drop landed on you. “That’s fucking it, all covered in my cum.”

Your cunt clenched as you felt his cum drip down your cunt and onto the couch below you, making a mess. “But I- I didn’t get to…” 

“Told you it would be funny.” He sadistically chuckled as he quickly stuffed himself back into his jeans. 

“You're an ass.” You sat up on your elbows, your body spent from all the fucking and teasing. 

“Don’t worry,” he patted your cheek in a mocking manner before making his way to your busted front door. “I’ll be back.”

You were left shocked, cunt so sensitive from the need to cum. 

It wasn’t until minutes later when the phone ringing pulled you from your daze. You stumbled as you went to grab it, your breath coming out in short pants. “Hello.” 

simon riley was never a man of many words — until pleasure was involved of course, but even then he’d always start off quiet, and the more depraved things became, the more he’d run his mouth.

it had been a lazy and dreamlike morning, the two of you laying in your bed half asleep for way longer than you should have. you were drained, and sore after the night he’d brought upon you — fucking you within an inch of your life, and yet you still wanted more. his large figure took up the bed beside you, laying on his front with his strong arms clutching the delicate pink pillow from your bed beneath his head. you suck on your bottom lip sleepily, swooning at how he could lay there sleeping so casually and tranquil as if he hadn’t held your thighs up by your head and made you squelch around his thickness for hours the night before. a grown man like him, it was no big deal. the thought of him being so nonchalant towards destroying your cunt had you aching, wetness yet again pooling between your legs.

had it always been this easy? were you ovulating or something?

you stare at him in sort of a guilty and doe eyed way as you slide your hand down to the cotton panties he’d slipped on your half awake form for some decency after he’d finished with you, feeling your juices start to warm your folds. you feel around, wincing at how sensitive your clit still was and almost whimpering in pain when you go to explore your sore hole, needing to give it a break.

you huff in a spoiled kind of way at the ceiling, in disbelief at yourself. he’d really dicked you down within an inch of your life, and you’d still craved more merely the morning after? you were sure he’d tsk and ask you the same. or would he? was he the type to continue berating and degrading you with nasty language even in the unforgiving, bright light of morning? or would he go back to his usual simon ways, playing his cards close to his chest?

you look at him again, soundly sleeping. you can’t wake him up, no — he’s probably totally spent, being older than you and such it might not be as easy to just spring his cock back up at the drop of a hat. plus, simon never slept. you knew he needed this. you bite back a cocky and impish grin at the fact your pussy had clearly knocked him the fuck out. your eyes run over his strong arms, and again the pillow beneath it before you’re struck with an idea.

you slowly sit up a little, keeping your eyes on him when the bed makes the slightest sound — not wanting to wake him. you take the warm pillow that was beneath your head, and fold it — doing your best to be quiet in your attempts to straddle it. you think of facing him, so that you can look at him, but you’re too ashamed — face feeling hot as you start to grind your cotton covered cunt over the pillow.

you wince, the sensitivity and wetness easing you along more than you might have expected. you roll your hips, trying to find the right angle and lower yourself onto your belly, cheek buried into the mattress, your feet resting where your pillow once was as you stuff your hands beneath the pillow, working your hips in little circles.

you find the spot, the material folding and rippling in a way against your panties that made the friction drive you wild, and you let out a sleepy but needy whimper. what was once you worried about waking simon and feeling humiliated, was now a lack of care all together, growing louder when you heard your wetness inside your panties, folds audibly parting at your grinding movement.

you oddly didn’t care when you hear simon stir and assumably stretch behind you, only letting out a shy and embarrassed whine when he kindly lays a hand on the back of your thigh, stroking the meat there soothingly.

“mornin’, sweetheart.” his voice is raspier than usual from sleep, and you continue your movements, not wanting to turn your hot cheek around to see him. his rough palm slides up to your ass, giving it a tentative squeeze before his long fingers creep to your underwear, casually but purposefully pulling the crotch of the panties to the side to watch your pussy open and close at your movements, glistening and puffy in the morning light. “fuckin’ell.” he huffs, very quietly.

it’s then you turn your cheek to look back at him shamefully, lips pouted and swollen from all the kissing hours before. he’s got one hand resting behind his head, the other on you. you clench at how good he looks and you’re sure he see’s.

“needy girl, eh? just can’t get enough.” he tsks as imagined, and the tip of his middle finger prods at your entrance. you flinch, with a pained whine and clench all of your lower body, shuddering. “no?” he soothes, stroking your thigh again.

“s’too sore, but just… needed something. feel so needy, dunno what’s wrong with me.” you sound pitiful and he exhales slowly, strong chest collapsing deep before he sits up, eyeing your movements.

“s’alright.” he rasps, gently sliding his two large hands beneath your hips to clutch them, guiding your movements effortlessly now, aiding your grinding motion so that you could do less work. you moan, a loud one — like you were relieved and he nods slowly despite you facing away. “i know.”

he stretches your panties to the side even more until it’s pulled over your ass cheek and stays parted without his help. he then suddenly but gently presses your back down into the bed so that you can no longer move, the pillow beneath you causing you to lay frozen in an arch, presenting to him. “what if i’m gentle.” he’s quiet, and uncharacteristically soft as his pointer and middle finger find your clit from your arched position, rubbing the softest circles he’s capable of. you shudder, letting out a cry but you nod regardless, knowing it was something you needed.

“words, lovie.” he reminds you kindly.

“yes please.” you whisper, spreading your thighs a little more to help him.

“good girl. as much as i’d love to see you cum on your pillow… s’gotta be from me. that’s fair, yeah?” he asks, clear in his tone that he’s genuinely expecting a reply, some reassurance that he’s not being cruel and invasive like he might have been earlier.

in the sun-kissed landscapes of italy, you, with your captivating charm and surprising intelligence, was dealing with a meeting with very higher ups in the politic world, things were going so far so good.

that was until your boss, a figure whom you trusted very much, revealed to you the news. a deployment to russia as a military translator.

nervous feelings ran down your spine, not from the revelation of a new challenge, but from the anticipation of russia’s frigid embrace. most of the time, you were assigned to help translate in missions involving trafficking, drugs, dark stuff like that. and having to translate for the “bad guys” involved them being not so nice to you. mostly because they don’t like a woman all up on their dark buisness.

nevertheless, you knew you were going to be protected, and the military people have never treated you wrong.

you prepared your clothes, having to use a bigger backpack due to all the puffy jackets, scarfs, you know, all cold related things. which you do not protest! the colder the weather, the better you can dress.

right now you had a puffy black jacket, warm leggings with a thick skirt attached! it was 100x more comfortable because now your ass didn’t have to feel all the cold seats anymore. and of course your puffy boots, thick beige fur covering the boots. one thing about you is your feet were always cold, making you use like 3 layers of socks!

you arrived late night, making the cold even worse but you managed to cover the lower half of your face with your scarf, seriously the cold was so bad in here. as you disembarked from the helicopter, the biting russian cold embraced you, making you shiver involuntarily.

you were greeted warmly by your captain “nice to see you again over here” he smiled warmly “i’m glad too, really missed the artic” he laughed at that, how could he be out here with only a small jacekt?!

he noticed your shivering frame, you thought you were hiding it well, making him start leading you through the snow-covered landscape over to base.

upon entering, all eyes turned towards you – a mix of amazement and curiosity danced in the gaze of your new colleagues, you knew your boots were quite attention catching, probably why everyone kept staring at you.

to say you were pretty was little, it was obvious everyone in the room found you beautiful, but you didn’t pay it any mind, again thinking maybe your boots were standing out a bit too much, not the way your thighs looked so good with the skirt on top, but! they would need to get used to see your babies, they were your go-to in cold weather.

however, one pair of eyes stood out, belonging to keegan. he almost looked mesmerized with you. he watched you stride with an unyielding confidence, almost model like, the skirt making your hips move so so pretty, that it was making it hard for him to stop staring at you.

somehow your eyes found his, thanking the heavens you had your scarf covering your cheeks because you were blushing so hard rn, his gaze lingered, an admiring intensity in his eyes that you almost tripped.

only his eyes, a window to the unspoken thoughts within, were visible, making you curious. as his fellow soldier spoke, keegan’s attention remained freezed on you, his focus unyielding, and the words of his comrade fading into the background of his silent admiration.

the spell was broken as soon as the captain opened the door to his office, inviting you in to debrief the mission with you. you were going with keegan’s team to help them gather intel, they were trying to find a very big drug dealer, and you translating, would help them find him faster.

tomorrow morning would be your first mission with them, yet you still didn’t know who keegan was, making it intriguing whom you’d be working with.

captain showed you your room, it was a basic military room, a twin sized bed in the middle, small vanity to your left, a desk in the other size to the room, and a small window, last but not least, your own bathroom.

you pleaded your boss to give you your own bathroom, there was enough experiences a girl can have in a shared bathroom used by men.

you started investigating about who you were translating for tomorrow, loosing the track of time. by the time you finished it was 3 am, making you worry a little, you were leaving tomorrow at 6 am.

you were almost going to bed when your stomach rumbled, making you internally groan, you knew that if you didn’t sleep, insomnia would make its way to you.

rolling your eyes you went to the kitchen, you thought everyone was asleep rn, so you paid no mind yo your outfit, a small cropped sweatshirt, leggings and fluffy slippers.

you were about to eat your slice of bread with jam when a sudden voice made you drop it to the washer “can’t sleep?” “jesus fuck!” you swore you felt your heart stop for a second, you never saw anyone in here!

you turned around to see the same guy from before, keegan, who just stared at you, seated in a chair with a book in his hands, it almost looked like he was trying to contain his laugh.

“what’s wrong with you!” you said with a smile laughing, he probably saw your bread jump to the washer “me? nothing, was just asking” he said it so proud of himself “how do you even read with all the lights off?” by now you had turned to him, still by the counter “i wasn’t reading, i was drinking tea” “oh” you never saw the cup of tea beside the book silly you.

“just know you ruined my dinner” you said pouting “and you asked my what’s wrong with me” he said scoffing “oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t eat late at night” “no i do princess, just not a bread with jam at 3 in the morning” his nickname made you stop your breath for a second, deciding to pay no mind to it “but you do you princess” he was by your side now, putting his cup of tea in the washer, until you saw him freeze next to you, there was small light coming from outside, oh yea, you had no bra on.

he could see see your breasts, your nipples to be precise, under your sweatshirt, practically begging to be touched, your sweatshirt was so small it had ridden up just a tiny bit when you were making your dinner, making keegan see a small part of your under breast.

“princess” keegan suddenly moved closer to you, making you see his eyes better, revealing a captivating shade of blue, a mesmerizing hue that held a subtle warmth within its cool depths, caught your attention.

his gaze, unwavering in its intensity, sent a gentle warmth through you, leaving a blush on your cheeks again, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken connection forged in that shared moment.

“you still don’t know my name” which was true making you ask for it, when he said it, he saw the realization in your eyes “oh! i’m working with you in the next mission” you said a bit breathlessly “glad to have you with us” you could see the deep appreciation for you in his eyes.

keegan had heard about you, he knew of your well-regarded reputation as a translator, held a silent acknowledgment of the confidentiality that shrouded your professional endeavors.

in the subtle lines of his expression, you could see respect for the enigma that surrounded you, a recognition that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. “thank you” you said, he just nodded to you, he was so close to you now you could feel his chest, and his chest could feel your nipples. you just held your breath keeping eye contact with him “well, princess, you must get your sleep, i won’t keep you up” you were in a trance when he moved, snapping you out of it “goodnight keegan” you said in a small voice. keegan smiled behind his mask.

ever since then, a connection quietly unfolded between you and keegan. it initially started as him being a distant observer, he always kept his eyes on you everywhere you went, even more when you were speaking russian towards the males, you held such confidence with you he was deeply allured with you.

his presence evolved into a silent shield, a comforting assurance amidst the unfamiliarity of a foreign land. he may couldn’t understand russian, but he sure as hell could see the body language and the tones they were speaking to you.

everytime he could sense any sort of verbal assault at you, his steely gaze fixed upon the adversaries with an intensity that spoke volumes, as well as his hidden raised gun;), sensing the weight of his silent threat, they found themselves silenced. even though you had no idea he was threatening them behind you.

you always knew keegan had your back, and silently thanked him for it. as the time passed, you felt keegan more protective of you, and you more attentive of him, you two were almost all the time together.

there were moments, a shared smile in the midst of icy winds, or a wordless understanding in the chaos of a mission, that spoke louder than words. in these instances, his protective instinct manifested – a steady hand guiding you through the challenges, a silent assurance that you were not alone. metaphorically as well as physically.

his interactions evolved into a touch that carried a warmth beyond mere protection. his gestures, once purely professional, became tinged with an affectionate familiarity.

a guiding hand on the small of your back during a mission briefing or a reassuring touch on your shoulder in moments of uncertainty, each contact seemed to convey a connection that lingered beyond the realm of your relationship.

these touches carried a feeling of something more, a silent language of shared emotions between you and him. in the hushed moments when his hand lingered a second longer than necessary or the gentle squeeze that accompanied a reassuring smile.

in the dim glow of the base's common area, keegan’s touches continued to weave a tapestry of unspoken connection. a shared moment over a map had his fingers brushing against yours, the contact lingering for a heartbeat longer than required, it was practically normal for you to be blushing around him now.

during a particularly challenging mission, his arm found its way around your shoulders, a protective embrace in the face of caos. in that moment you just wanted to be beside him all the time, you felt safe around him.

there was also a time in which keegan was behind you, listening to what you would be doing, until he felt rather not okay with what you were supposed to do. he suddenly put his hand discreetly on your waist, and the other arm in front of your chest, his hand subtly telling “no”

“she’s with us, meaning we protect her, what you’re saying is risky for her, she won’t do it” you felt warmth on your chest. you have never experienced this, the other teams you had been were never this attentive with you. it was a weird emotion for you, you were used to always seek for yourself.

in the quiet of the nights, a shared gaze held more than words could express. keegan’s hand, a reassuring presence, sought yours across the table, fingers intertwining with yours, squeezing your fingers every now and then. he did that more times than you could count.

the line between friendship and something deeper became increasingly blurred, leaving both of you suspended in the uncharted territory of unspoken emotions.

the endearing term "princess" slipped from his lips almost all the time, a word you loved hearing from him even though you never tell him. it became a private language, whether in the midst of a mission or during quiet evenings, the endearment echoed, making you warm inside all the time.

keegan’s feelings had transcended the boundaries of friendship, evolving into a profound connection that bordered into almost being in love with you.

his gaze, once intense, now carried a softness that showed a deep admiration, a mesmerizing allure that held him captivated in your presence.

his eyes just seemed to follow you everywhere, absorbing every detail of you, every facet of your being, as if etching your essence into his soul.

the desire to be with you became a palpable force, an unspoken longing that lingered in the spaces between conversations. the way his fingers sought yours, the way he leaned in, just a fraction closer than necessary – each action seemed to fluster you more and more.

you too couldn’t deny it, you felt drawn to him, but even with the warmth of his company and shared moments, there was a bit of confusion.

your feelings were kind of mixed up, wanting to connect with him but also feeling unsure about it. it’s like a struggle between what your heart wants and what your head is thinking.

you just don’t know how to respond to him :(

figuring out your own feelings became a bit like wandering through a maze, with no clear destination.

being close to keegan made you feel good, but accepting his love brought its own set of uncertainties. you tried taking things one step at a time, trying to make sense of your own heart and the budding feelings between you two.

until you just couldn’t anymore

you were in a very heated meeting with keegan, as always, behind you, talking to a very dangerous person, in a very dangerous place, at any moment now something could happen, making you feel on edge all the time there. you felt keegan’s hand hold your shoulder softly, reminding you he is here with you.

in the middle of the conversation, you saw in less than a second the man’s eyes change, from angry, to weirdly happy, like he was going to be free from all this interrogation. you were confused, until you heard it.

bullets and bullets and more bullets echoed in the building, as well as some passing through the windows in the small office you were. in a second keegan had moved you, shielding you from any possible damage

you heard him speak to the captain, the captain said they were under attack, making difficult to get out of there. you were alone inside with keegan and the man, he was tied to the table though, so you weren’t worried he would escape.

keegan held you behind his back, opening the door and checking if it was safe to go out. he made a clear sign and went to the right side. you were shaking of fear, you could hear explosions all over the place, the shaking of the floor, bullets everywhere, it was crazy.

suddenly a man spawned out of nowhere pulling keegan and tried stabbing him.

the military gave you a gun before you left, you had basic military training, knew how to use a gun, yet never needed to. but seeing keegan almost being stabbed made you react on instinct, you pulled your gun in less than a second and shoot the bastard. keegan’s was free from the man’s arm and shot another bullet between his head.

you just stood there, the adrenaline was making it hard to process what just happened, but you could feel your body trembling with fear, you may have possibly just killed a man. you’ve never done that in your life.

keegan saw the fear in your eyes “princess, hey, i need you to focus on me” keegan’s grabbed your face, you stared at him, worry clear in your eyes “you saved me and you’re a fucking badass for that” keegan’s appreciation words dragged you out of the dark thoughts you were falling to.

you both heard footsteps approaching you, making keegan grab your hand, tight, and walked to the other direction, you moved faster than him, adrenaline was making you rushed now, until you were about to move to the other corner of the hallway and saw armed men looking for, you supposed, keegan and you.

you pushed keegan back, startling him for a second, until he could hear the voices. you had a door next to you, keegan opened it and dragged you both inside. it was small, very small, yet enough for hiding. keegan turned you so his back was to the door, always protecting you first.

you on the other hand, was shaking shitless again, you could understand what they were saying, they were here for you, obviously not happy at all that you knew about what they were doing.

keegan once again tried dragging you out of your starting panic attack, he said your name twice trying to get your attention. you looked at him, you were very much fucking scared.

“hey, you’re with me, i won’t let anything happen to you okay?” you felt one of keegan’s hand hold your head softly, the other went to your back. you then realized he was hugging you, you were so close to each other he didn’t even need to moved you closer. you moved your hands to hold his back too, resting your head on his shoulder.

in the middle of the chaotic circumstances, keegan emerged as your anchor, his presence became the grounding point that helped you survive this.

it was then when it hit you, the realization, the profound connection that resonated beyond words. attempting to utter his name, you found your voice stifled by anxiety, your very core trembling with fear.

keegan, ever perceptive, tightened his hold around you, a silent reassurance.

as the threat passed by your door, keeping your mouth shut became a necessity, not just for the mission at hand but also to guard the burgeoning emotions inside you.

after a few minutes, you could hear them muffled, meaning they were far. keegan opened the door, still holding you, and looked out, he saw that it was clear “let’s go princess”

the next few minutes was you and keegan trying to get out of here, it was almost like a maze, the explosions seemed to calm down as well as the bullets. but there was still people looking for you.

you were about to turn to your left when a hand grabbed you from your neck, choking you, you tried to scream, but the man was fast, he suddenly pushed you to the wall, punching you in the face, almost breaking your nose, but you moved just in time your face, hitting you in the cheek.

you suddenly remembered you had a gun, you pulled it out, raising it fast to the middle of his head and shot him quick.

it was ugly, scary, and it glued you to your spot, all his blood soaked you, yet his hold on you loosened, making the man fall to your shoulder, surely staining your coat.

you were so fucking scared you thanked the lord keegan grabbed the man and lunched him to the wall behind.

you were again almost in shock, but keegan was in front of you fast “come on baby, we need to leave this hell” keegan kept dragging you, your body fully trusting him, because you were going into shock now.

you saw light, and finally you were out, a few dead people scattered on the ground, not helping you at all.

it until you saw the familiar humvee you felt slight ease. everyone saw your state, blood soaking all your face, dripping all over your coat. quite a sight. keegan just shakes his head to his teammates, silently telling them that you needed space now.

the soldiers admired you, even cared for you after all this time, it was clear seeing you like this worried them, but they trusted keegan, and they know you trust keegan too.

keegan helped you up the humvee, sitting next to you, you felt him whispering beside you “you okay?” you just nodded taking a small ragged breath, wiping your nose. you felt disgusting, you could feel the man’s blood dripping down your nose, the need to shower was strong right now.

keegan just softly held your hand, squeezing it to help you ground yourself, but you just couldn’t, you were so bloody anxious right now you couldn’t stop moving your leg up and down.

keegan felt it, slightly worried about you, he knew you’ve never been in combat before, let alone kill someone. you felt his hand slowly let go of yours, and put it on top of your thigh, making you halt your movements.

he kept it there slightly above your knee, massaging a little, not daring to move his hand up higher.

the ride to base was just the captain talking to someone on the radio, other than that, it was silent.

as soon as you arrived to base, you hurried out of the humvee, and fast towards the barracks, feeling the weight of the mission on your shoulders. you desperately needed the shower.

keegan stayed by the humvee, not following you right away. he stood there, giving you room. he could understand the impact of what just happened, and knew letting you calm down first was a good idea.

the letting you calm down time meant maybe you would come out of your room later, but now, it was 11:45 pm, and keegan was more than worried about you now. he had no idea you were still in the shower, living the past event over and over in your head.

you just couldn’t erase the image from your brain, just seeing the man’s eyes go lifeless in front of you, it was such a crazy thing to look at, and you weren’t dealing with it very okay.

you felt dirty, even though you cleaned your body more than twice. you had lost the track of time, you were so inside your brain you forgot to eat something. your stomach begging for food now, making you feel nauseous.

you just put on a brown long sleeve sweatshirt with some random leggings. you knew it was last midnight now, making it easier for you, you didn’t want to see anyone right now.

keegan, on the verge of heading to your room, noticed you entering the kitchen. your eyes were red, and your nose was puffy – the signs of tears evident. the concern on his face deepened as he observed the aftermath of emotions that had washed over you. he paused, recognizing the fragility in your demeanor, reconsidering whether to approach and offer comfort in this vulnerable moment.

spotting keegan in the kitchen, you froze in place. your hair, still damp, added a chill to the atmosphere, and a subtle shiver ran through you. keegan stood there, his worry evident in his eyes. the unspoken concern made you feel a twinge of guilt for disappearing, realizing the impact it had on him.

feeling the wave of emotions crash over you once again, tears welled up, and sobs escaped despite your efforts. a whispered "i'm sorry" escaped your lips, muffled by your trembling hand pressed against your mouth. the vulnerability laid bare.

in an instant, keegan was by your side. dressed in a simple black sweatshirt and cargo pants, he became your anchor once again.

his chest against your trembling form, you held him tight, as if seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. his hands gently cradled your head and waist, offering a silent reassurance, “nothin’ to be sorry about princess” you could feel his deep voice rumble in his chest “it’s okay”

his hand now gently petting your hair as you clung to him. between sobs, you began to express the guilt weighing on your chest. "i feel so bad for leaving like that" you admitted, the words punctuated by shaky breaths.

the shock of your actions you did a while ago lingered, casting a shadow on your thoughts. the vulnerability in sharing your feelings with keegan felt both liberating and daunting. it was a bad habit of yours, disappear whenever you felt any emotion that wasn’t happiness. it was normal to you:( even if it’s been more than 12 hours since you last emerged from your room.

keegan’s voice, calm and reassuring, cut through the heaviness of the moment. "it's okay," he whispered, his hand still tenderly stroking your hair. "you're here now, and that's what matters."

a flicker of strength ignited within you, and you stood a little taller, you pressed a tender kiss on keegan’s cheek, your hand lingering on his face for a heartbeat. his eyes held an unspoken love, you could see it clearly now.

keegan’s question for the kiss hung in the air, a gentle curiosity evident in his gaze. you felt his mask close and his breaths deepen, you took a moment, meeting his intense eyes. "it’s a thank you," you said softly, "for always protecting me."

his response was a tightening of the embrace, bringing you even closer. his face, now near yours, held an intensity matched by the deep breaths he took. in a rough voice deep with emotion, he confessed, "you driving me fucking crazy." the admission hung in the air, your cheeks flushing furiously.

a playful challenge danced in your eyes as you maintained intense eye contact. "what if you show me how much I drive you crazy?" you suggested, your doe eyes locked onto his.

a groan escaped him as he dropped his head to your shoulder. laughter bubbled from you, but your breath hitched as keegan shifted, causing your sweatshirt to ride up slightly. the short length and absence of a bra made you almost flash him your right breast.

keegan could feel it, in fact, he could feel your nipples pressed on him since he hugged you, making his pants feel tighter.

you felt keegan’s hand move up, near your breast, starting to massage there, making you blush furiously “may i remind you were are still in public keegan” you didn’t want anyone walk in on keegan almost touching your breasts, in the middle of the kitchen.

startling you in a swift motion, he lifted you off the ground, his strong hold on your bum leaving you feeling both surprised and strangely like jelly inside, and before you could voice your concerns, he began walking towards your room.

you were silently screaming at him about the possibility of getting caught, but keegan just tightened his hold on you more like squeezing your booty, effectively silencing you.

the situation didn't seem to faze him as he navigated the corridors, your protests muted in the intensity of the moment. the world outside seemed to fade away as keegan carried you and opened your door, leaving behind a trail of laughter and a flutter of unspoken excitement.

you thought he was going to drop you now, but no! he just went to your bed, and dropped you, making you bounce and laugh at what he just did “such a romantic” keegan just held the back of your legs and dragged you near his cock.

that motion made your shirt roll up, now showing him your bare breasts. you widened your eyes a little, but keegan looked like he was more enamored by you now “what a fucking sight i have” he couldn't help but revel in the intimate view of you beneath him. your eyes, filled with affection, locked onto his, radiating a warmth that mirrored the depth of your connection.

the air thickened with tension, and keegan couldn't ignore the tightening in his pants, a physical response to the emotional intimacy and the allure of the moment. “look how you make me feel princess” you could feel it, near your cunt, his big cock, making a big tent in his pants.

you just couldn’t anymore, you rolled your hips up a little, the sensation almost made you cum on the spot, but keegan just made a noise of disapproval “nuh uh, let me have my time with my princess yeah?” you blushed even more when keegan took a hold of your hips, and slowly moved his hands up, dying to touch your breasts.

when his hands finally felt them, he was on cloud 9. they were so soft and moldeable in his hands he could feel precum leaking from his cock. keegan lowered himself close your breasts, rolled his mask up, and licked your nipple making you moan.

he started sucking on your nipple like a man starved, while the other hand groped your other breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. you were panting, his hands were god sent, as well as his mouth.

that’s when you felt the sudden urge to kiss him. and you couldn’t wait anymore. feeling the magnetic pull, you took charge, gently dragging his face upward to meet yours. in a bold move, your lips crashed against his, a collision of desire and longing.

a sound of contentment escaped keegan, emotions flowing between you like an electric current. the world outside the moment ceased to exist as the intensity of the kiss spoke volumes, an unspoken exchange of emotions and desires woven into the fabric of that stolen, passionate embrace.

keegan deepened the kiss even more, angling your head better, he was heaven sent. in the heat of the kiss, your hands, seemingly of their own accord, found their way to his mask. it became an unconscious exploration, a touch laden with curiosity. unexpectedly, keegan broke the kiss, startling you, and swiftly snatched away his mask.

in the soft glow of the small light, his face was revealed, and you found yourself enraptured by the sight of him.

"you’re so beautiful" the words slipped from your lips almost involuntarily. a deep resonance of satisfaction echoed in keegan’s chest, and without a moment's hesitation, he dragged you up. seated on his knees, you found yourself straddling him, his hands on your waist and bum, fondling with it making you whine, as your lips met again in a deep, intoxicating kiss, yet you felt needy.

involuntarily you moved your hips, grinding right on his cock, making him groan deeply “fuck baby, you’re going to make me cum” knowing he was as aroused as you made you feel even more needy, making you grind your hips even more.

keegan’s hand took a hold of your hips, making you stop your movements. you whined again, even surprising you, you’ve never met this side of you, so needy of someone.

keegan's touch on your face was soft, almost reverent. he spoke with a gentle intensity, "i want to worship you. let me." the request hung in the air, and you, captivated by the depth of his gaze, agreed with a simple nod.

with deliberate tenderness, keegan laid you back onto the bed, his hands moving to the fabric of your clothes. He began with your sweatshirt, each movement deliberate and unhurried, as if unraveling the layers of vulnerability and desire between you two. as he raised your sweatshirt up, his hands once again touched your breasts, making you moan lowly.

keegan just smirked, having removed your sweatshirt, he then proceeded to shed his own shirt. the unveiling of his toned body drew an involuntary blush to your cheeks. his eyes caught yours, and a playful smile graced his lips.

"like what you see?" he teased, the husky timbre of his voice adding a layer of seduction to the moment. the air hung heavy with anticipation as you met his gaze, your response a silent affirmation that echoed in the space between you two.

keegan, still holding your gaze with an intensity that spoke volumes, continued his deliberate exploration. his hands, deft and unhurried, moved to your leggings.

with tenderness, he peeled them away, revealing more of your vulnerability. the room seemed to pulse with shared desire as each layer of clothing fell away, creating an intimate tapestry of connection between you and Keegan.

you were only with your panties on now, and keegan with his grey boxers, not hiding anything, making you slightly anxious, he looked very big, and you’ve never done this before.

a sudden realization gripped you, and you couldn't help but say, "wait" keegan, on the verge of sliding your panties off, halted immediately, his expression shifting to one of concern.

nervously, you confessed, "i’ve never done this before." the vulnerability in your admission hung in the air, an unspoken plea for understanding and patience. the room, once charged with desire, now held a new layer of intimacy.

keegan, surprised by your revelation, felt a renewed sense of responsibility. he looked into your eyes, the desire tempered with understanding, and reassured you, "i’ll go slow. we’ll take it at your pace."

his words carried a gentle promise, a commitment to make you feel at ease in this intimate moment. keegan then slowly slide your panties off, your cunt now bare and displayed in front of him. keegan just stared at it for a second, absolutely beautiful he thought; all shiny with your slick, begging for some attention. and who was he to deny it.

one thing about keegan, he loved foreplay, and you, you liked it too, but he’s made you cum twice! fingers and tongue involved, you weren’t complaining, but you really wanted his cock now.

from where you were, you could see his boxer stained with precum, making you whine, you were past needy now “i need you keegan, please” keegan heard the whiny tone from you, making his cock even more hard.

“such a needy princess aren’t you” keegan swiftly removed his boxers down, his cock sprang free on his stomach. your mouth was watering just seeing it. it was big, veiny and thick.

you didn’t think it, you were on all 4s now, keegan was looking behind dropping his boxer when he felt your mouth on his cock, making him hiss loud as well as whined “fuck princess, what are you doing?” you could hear his voice strained, like he was containing himself.

you didn’t answer, it was your first time doing this, yet you felt confident when you swallowed almost his whole cock down your throat, making keegan’s hands grab your head, pushing you deeper, making his eyes roll back.

“who taught you this?” he was a panting mess now, you kept bobbing your head up and down, using your angelic hands to grab his balls, swollen with his cum, massaging them, making keegan go all over the edge.

he didn’t warn you, just grabbed your head dragging it all the way down, thrusting his big cock down your throat, moaning loud. you decided to look at him then, giving your best puppy eyes you could, making keegan mesmerized with you, you could see all his reactions from here, his stomach clenching, his mouth panting, and his eyes full of love.

“i’m gonna cum love” you felt keegan trying to move his cock out of your mouth, but you just grabbed his hips, pushed them to you, and moving your tongue around his veiny cock.

keegan cummed on the spot, thick white ropes of cum going all the way down your throat, you as the princess you are, swallowed it whole, keeping your hand on his balls, feeling them clench everytime he cummed.

you were sure keegan was about to pass out now, that was the hardest orgasm he’s ever felt.

his desire was evident in the intensity of his gaze, deciding to take charge. his hands gently grasped your head, lifting you slightly making you put your hands on his big muscular chest. a deep, intense kiss ensued, each meeting of your lips sending a shiver through your body.

keegan murmured a sweet praise, "you’re such a beautiful good girl aren’t you?" he was still in his post orgasmic state, making you laugh a little, but this man had a very strong stamina.

you could feel his cock hard again in between your stomach making you put your hand on top of his slit. he bucked his hips a little “come on now” he said with a strained voice “let me make you feel good” desire evident in his voice.

keegan laid you down on the bed, moving your thighs open, letting your cunt once open to him. keegan not waisting a second now, aligned his cock with your cunt, dragging it up and down your folds “stop teasing keegan” you said pouting.

it took you by surprise when you felt his tip in your entrance, making you stop your breath for a second, keegan was smirking now, how easy it was to shut your needy ass up.

“i’ll go slow yeah? you tell me if it too much princess” keegan started sliding his thick cock insided your virgin cunt, it felt weird, a slight burn everytime he slide deeper.

keegan on the other hand was in awe, he saw your cunt swallowing his cock inside, inch by inch, your puffy clit at view too. in a second keegan had his hand on your clit, slowly circling it, making you moan, allowing his cock to slide further.

once he bottomed, he stayed there, he was still on his knees, allowing him a beautiful view. you had your knees next to your breasts, his cock swallowed by your cunt, your face flushed.

he couldn’t wait anymore, keegan dropped his forearms next to your head, and started grinding his cock inside your cunt. you felt so full, and him grinding was almost hitting your womb, making you moan loudly. “keegan you’re so deep” you said frowning from pleasure, your nails were on his big muscular biceps, hanging on for dear life.

“does it feel good?” “very fucking good” you said moaning the last word, keegan had his head hidden on your neck, his pace now a bit faster, balls hitting your ass everytime he thrusted, the skin to skin slapping sound resonating all over your room, creating such an erotic scene.

keegan then raised his head and kissed you deeply, his hand holding your head softly, you could feel him even deeper now. he had you on a mating press, his chest squeezing your breasts making your nipples stand out even more “you feel so fucking good princess” “this cunt belongs to me yeah” “you’re all fucking mine”

keegan kept saying this small praises everytime he thrusted, but what made your orgasm come quick was when he said you were his. yes you were. you were his since you met him. he was there for you ever since then, always by his side, always his.

“y-yes i am” keegan’s intense gaze was on you now “i’m yours keegan, all yours” he hit a particular spot inside you that you saw stars, moaning loud “say that again princess” “i’m yours” keegan was about to cum just from hearing you say that.

“and you’re all mine” you kissed him hard when you said that. keegan never thought you were the possessive type, yet when he heard you say that, you could say he fell in love even deeper “you’re all fucking mine keegan” you started meeting his thrusts with your hips, your clit rubbing with his stomach making your orgasm come fast.

keegan could feel it, you were clenching stronger now, almost making him stop his movements “you cumming princess?” that goddamn nickname was going to be the death of you “i want to cum with you”

your needy voice made keegan tighten his hold on you, and thrust deeper, and slower. keegan grabbed your face and kissed you, his other hand rubbing your clit. making you cum hard.

keegan cummed in an instant too, feeling your cunt clenching around his cock too, your orgasm so hard you closed your eyes. he cummed inside you, sliding even further, letting all his cum coat your walls with him. only him.

he stayed there for a while, letting you come down from the high. you were breathing hard, his cock now softening inside you, yet you didn’t want him to come out yet.

you used your feet to hit him on the hips, making him slide a bit more “stay here for a while” keegan caught the message, you wanted to cuddle. with him still inside you.

you were a sucker for cuddles, and touch starved. so when keegan laid down, still inside you, and dragged you almost on top of him, you felt shivers down your spine.

as keegan’s arms enveloped you in a tender embrace, a warmth spread through you, reaching the neglected corners of your soul. the gentle cradle of his arms was a stark contrast to the void you hadn’t realized existed, a reminder of the absence of such intimate touch in your life.

his arms forming a protective cocoon around you, fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back. the rise and fall of his chest against your back mirrored the rhythm of shared breaths, creating a serene melody.

it wasn't just the physical closeness; it was the profound sense of being seen and held, a silent promise that in his arms, you were cherished and safe.

a few minutes had passed when you felt keegan sitting up, you as well on his lap, making you pout “don’t make that face” he said condescending “i need to clean you up yeah?”

keegan carried you all the way down your bathroom, again, still inside you, and seated you on the counter. he took a really long look to your breasts. such beautiful breasts just sitting there, making him want to hold them again.

“enjoying the view” you said in a proud tone, keegan just moved his eyes to your face and laid a small kiss to your cheek. you started feeling how keegan slid his now soft cock out your cunt, once it was all out, he just stayed there, looking at both your cunt and his cock “look at the mess you made love”

his cock was full of his cum, and yours, you felt all his cum slide out of your cunt, now on the counter, the sight making keegan’s cock start hardening again, and you saw that as well.

you just stared at him, beautiful doe eyes, and grabbed his cock. “can’t get tired of this cock huh?” you just smiled, stood up, and dragged him to the shower. that was the best shower sex you’ve ever had.

after the shower, keegan was behind you like a lost puppy, just wanting to be near you, touching your waist, squishing it, as well as your bum, all while you were doing your small skin care.

and on bed? keegan was even more cuddly than you! he said, scratch that, obliged you to be the little spoon. now you had his beautiful face right next to you, his hand drawing small circles in your waist, going near your breasts to tease you, your legs tangled beneath the sheets. you could get used to this.

“so, for how long have i driven you crazy?” keegan heard the cheekiness in your voice, you probably knew keegan was head over heels for you, acting all dumb to torture him, making keegan groan behind you “i’m going to keep it with for a while”

you laughed, putting your hands on top of the one that was on your waist, dragging it near your lips, planting a soft kiss there. when you kissed his hand, an unexpected tenderness surged within him, like a flood of warmth.

in response, he hid his face against your neck, as if to shield himself from the cascade of emotions, laying a few kisses here and there. you really could get used to this.

♡

AHHHHHH the end ;’[ i love fluff, was deciding if splitting this into chapters but i got carried away and made it a one shot jiji

simons never really had anyone that was so willing to please him and serve him on their own free will, so of course it’s going to turn him on to no end.

it was the way you looked in the kitchen on a lazy sunday, his tshirt hanging off your shoulder, not aware of his hulking presence standing in the doorway watching you stir the gravy you’d made for the sunday roast you were making (which really makes him feel at home, god) he never thought about having anything this domestic, but you make that life look so good.

it was the way you can just sense when he’s had a bad day, greeting him in the living room when he drops down on the couch, huge body sprawled out, and you crawl between his legs and get to work, gagging on his thick length until the sour memory of his day is replaced by the feeling of your sweet mouth around him.

it was the way you look at him whenever he whips out cash to pay for whatever you want — those sweet adoring doe eyes. he made alot from the military, it’s true — but simon was never a big spender, and didn’t like to treat himself unless he really had to — so as you can imagine, the man let’s you go wild with his credit card. “whatever you want. s’not like i’m gonna spend it.” he gruffs, nonchalantly sliding his card into your hand when you’re rambling about an outfit you’d had your eye on.

he doesn’t want to rush into things, simons scared — and the thought of scaring you off with a proposal is constantly weighing on his mind, his true feelings towards the matter only coming out when he had you bedded, your sweet self having offered yourself to him after he’d had a long day. he’s got your legs over his strong shoulders, the base of his cock creamy from releases as you wail, his thick veiny hand pressing down on your lower stomach. this is where simon really gets vulnerable, a rare but delightful occurrence.