Being kidnapped by Hydra wasn’t on your to do list, but allowing yourself to be brainwashed?
You sat on the small metal chair, in front of the television they had allowed you to watch. It was always on the news, and everything you watched had your mother flipping towns upside down trying to find you. Alistair, the guard of the night shift, had sat you down, saying the story was interesting.
“Natasha Romanoff, more commonly known as Black Widow, was found in an old building this morning. Her body burnt to a crisp after an explosion had gone off. Many believe that she was out looking for her adopted daughter, who was recently taken. Tune in next time for more news on the situation.” the t.v blared.
You instantly stopped fighting the man after the t.v had been turned off. You were to distracted in your own sorrow to realize the malicious grin on Alistair’s face, or the quality of the other wise fake news caster. You were even too numb to hear the commotion outside, which was your mother fighting to find you.
Spit Shine - Getting Nice and Dirty While Getting Clean
I usually don’t do prompts but bethgreeneeffect was sweet enough to provide one just to juicy to pass up. Gag. So a nice smutty drabble was born. Sorry, I can’t figure out how to do a under the cut thingy so I apologize for clogging dashes.
So loves, without further ado, here you go:
Carol and Daryl get dirty while getting clean
“You are taking a shower.” Her tone and stance conveyed there would be no argument. “Come on. It’s not going to kill you. You are a wreck. I know you hate it here and I suppose this is one of the ways you are voicing your displeasure but you stink. In addition, I think you are scaring Judith.” Daryl’s only response was a scowl. He knew this was one argument he wouldn’t win. Carol’s eyes flashed. When she was pissed, it seemed to intensify their blue color. Right now they were almost as blue as gas flame.
Grabbing his hand with a smile teasing her lips, she murmured, “Come on dirty boy. Let me help you.”
He knew he couldn’t argue with that. They had had very little time alone in the past few weeks. He would have be lying if he said he didn’t miss the softness of her skin under his fingertips. There had been little thought to intimacy. Daryl realized right then what a gaping hole the lack of loving physical contact left in his life. Suddenly he missed it…very much. Even though Carol was wearing her ridiculous undercover Den Mother get up, Daryl found his dick stirring to attention. She just had that effect on him, giant tacky pink cabbage roses or no.
“Gonna make me, huh? You the boss of me?” His voice was coarse, his throat dry. Daryl narrowed his eyes and his lips tugged in a cocky leer. Yes, it had been a while.
Carol said nothing more but continued to lead him towards the bathroom, the grip on his hand firm but gentle.
Hell, the bathroom in their house was almost as big as the shack he grew up in. It was almost too pretty to be a bathroom, with smooth gray green stone tiles. There were not one but two sinks made out of some type of marble he couldn’t remember the name of let alone pronounce. They looked more suited to being in a museum than a bathroom. When they first moved in he was half afraid to take a piss in the gleaming toilet.
Carol reached into the cavernous shower stall to get the water set to the proper temperature. As the water hissed, Carol began the grim task of removing his filthy clothing. “Jesus, Daryl we are burning this. I am not kidding. I’ll try to salvage that vest but the rest is gone.” Wrinkling her nose she flung his shirt and vest into the corner and set to the task of unbuckling and unzipping his pants. She couldn’t even remember what the original color of the fabric had been. Shucking them down over his hips, she gave him a stern look. “Now step out of those rags and into that shower.”
He did as he was told. He grimaced as the water hit him. Hot water. Goddamn it had been a long time. Bathing in tepid creeks, ditches, rain. His body sagged with pleasure.
Carol held his gaze as she began to unbutton her shirt, very slowly. She allowed the garment to fall to the floor and then shimmied out of her pants and underwear until she too was naked.
The steam soon filled the bathroom, creating an almost dreamlike atmosphere. Arming herself with a fresh bar of sandalwood and vanilla-scented soap and a washcloth, she stepped inside the spacious stall to join Daryl.
The water ran black down the drain.
“Back to me.” She commanded curtly.
Daryl complied without further complaint. Carol lathered up the washcloth until it was more foam than fabric and went to work.
Leaning close, she murmured softly, “Now, stand still for me and maybe you’ll get a treat when you are alllll nice and clean.”
Daryl stood stalk still. He had to admit the combination of hot water and Carol’s firm, sure hands was slowly releasing the stresses and tension of the past few weeks. She had always grounded him. Knew how to soothe him. Gentled the beast.
Carol continued with her task. Once the last of the grime was sluiced down the drain she allowed her lips to tease at the nape of his neck.
He groaned softly, settling back into her. Carol smiled, gently snaking her hands around his waist to tangle in the thicket of curls before reaching down to caress and slowly stroke his straining length.
“What’s wrong? You still seem a little…worked up.” Her voice was husky with her own need.
She slowly continued to pump him, using the soap suds as a fragrant lubrication, while gently fondling his balls with her other hand.
The sharp hiss of breath between his teeth told her she was on the right track. It had been a long time. She had forgotten how nice he felt against her. This would be a release they both needed.
A harsh whisper of “Carol” was all Daryl managed to get past his lips. His voice seemed to decide not to work anymore. The delirious sensation of her silken hands working his iron hard cock was all his mind could process at the moment. She whispered softly in his ear as the water continued to caress them, “Turn around.”
As he complied, she sank before him allowing the water to fully rinse him clean before taking his length into her mouth. She took him slow, teasing him. She prided herself on being able to take him fully without gagging. Her eyes never left his as she teased with her tongue, deftly flicking the head of his straining cock before gently taking his length deep once more.
It didn’t take him long, with her working her special magic with her silken tongue and velvety mouth. His fingers reflexively tangled in her wet hair as he let go. She swallowed every drop. The first time she had done it, Daryl had almost seemed distressed over it. Worried it degraded her somehow. Carol assured him it was her pleasure to do so.
She gently kissed her way up his blessedly grime-free stomach before fully rising up, tilting her face into the spray so it could rinse away the remainder of her task from her lips and chin.
As Daryl pulled her close in a tight, almost grateful, embrace she playfully murmured, “See. Showers are not THAT bad now are they?”
alan wake au: when his wife suddenly disappears during their vacation, famous author leo fitz knows he’s about to turn this unfamiliar town
upside down to find jemma simmons. but in his attempts to find jemma, he faces terrifying consequences of his own writing and realizes that maybe there’s something else, haunting them.
Sneak peek of a future multi-chapter AU of mine, as it happens to fit (loosely) today’s prompt. Fair warning that you will have questions once you’re done reading, but this is what sneak peeks are for. ;) On that note, I’m won’t say more; I’ll just leave you to read this little tidbit of fic.
Many thanks to ninzied for betaing this one on short notice!
David and Mary Margaret have left them to their own devices again. An afternoon nap, they’d claimed, heading back to their hotel, as if either Regina or
Robin were gullible enough to buy into this flimsy excuse. Their friends are not fooling anyone, but then, this is their last vacation before their big
day. Regina supposes they’re allowed to enjoy it. When they get back to Storybrooke, it will be last minute dress fittings, cake and flowers and the whole
town turned upside-down for the wedding of their Sheriff and kindergarten teacher.
Not that Regina minds. Quite the contrary, being left alone with Robin has its advantages. They’d had a late lunch – New York pizza, and oh, how
she’d missed it, used to have it every time she’d visit the Big Apple for a meeting with investors – and then they’d set out on a stroll, his hand casually
resting at the small of her back. He’s getting bolder, Robin, not in where he touches her – he’s alway very respectful – but the frequency of such contact
has increased in recent days. Enough for her to have noticed. She shouldn’t be encouraging it, should know better than to give into her body’s needs and
desires; she’s leaving – not right this second, but soon. Too soon. The next few months are going to fly by, and even if she wants to, she can’t stay in
Storybrooke forever. She doesn’t have the power to freeze the town in a time bubble.
A part of her, the part that’s leaning back into the warmth of Robin’s palm and wrapping her own arm around his back, doesn’t want to go. She even has the
fleeting thought that she could be happy in Storybrooke, with its simple lifestyle (with Robin). But then, there’s the other side of her, the one that’s
singing at the melody of the sounds of the city, that’s taking in all that hustle and bustle while it can because she’s missed it. Storybrooke has
been good to her, welcoming and nice and definitely not as bad as she expected (the man beside her being number one on the list of perks), but it lacks the
activity she’s accustomed to. Small towns have always been too slow for her, and Storybrooke, as lovely as it is, is no exception.
But now her body is accustomed to Robin’s touch, too, and she doesn’t have it in her to tell him to stop. One last time can’t hurt, right? (If only there
were such a thing as a last time.)
His voice startles her. “What’s in that head of yours?” he asks, looking expectantly at her; she must have been lost in thought longer than she realized.
When she still doesn’t answer, he raises an eyebrow. “So?”
Regina shakes her head, “Nothing,” and turns it away from his distracting blue eyes. Robin hmpfs in a way that tells her he’s not letting her off
that easy, so she sighs, supplies, “I was just… enjoying the city.” Not a complete lie. She pats herself on the shoulder for that one.
“It is nice to go out,” he agrees, steering her to the right (and closer to him; she doesn’t miss that) to avoid people coming in the other
direction, “but I miss Storybrooke.”
She looks at him, cocks her head to the side. “Already?” They’ve only been here for two days.
She shrugs, tells him, “I think New York has a lot to offer.”
Robin smiles at that, squeezes her hip, and waits until he has her full attention to point out, “So, Trina is a city girl,” with that infuriatingly
charming lilt his voice takes when he thinks he’s figured her out.
Regina sighs. Yes. Yes, she is. She’s a city person, and he isn’t, and this is just another reminder of all the lies she’s feeding him, another reason why
they wouldn’t work out. They’re different, so different, him and her, and the moment he finds out, he’s going to run.
She settles for, “I was,” and by now, Robin knows her cues, knows not to push for answers when she doesn’t offer them. Instead, he tucks her against his
side and guides them through the crowded streets.