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whore-era · 1 year

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1-800-GIRLS

☁︎ modern!ellie x sex-hotline-operator!reader, very small mention of dealer!ellie ☁︎ summary: where ellie dials the wrong number and meets you instead. ☁︎ warnings: contains smut! 18+ only. top/dom!ellie, bottom/sub!reader, mentions spitplay/breathplay/overstimulation, mentions sexual interactions with men, dirty talking, guided masturbation (r!recieving), use of fem nicknames (babygirl, sweet girl, pretty girl, pup, puppy) let me know if i missed anything else pls. ☁︎ a/n: i feel like this kinda sucked bc towards the end i kinda rushed it, but i couldn't shake this idea n knew i had to write it. hope u like it bbs<3 also thank u to my bestie @elskittie for helping me figure some things out w this fic ☁︎ word count: 4,463 ☁︎ 1-800-GIRLS part 2

phone call style story — reader is in italics, ellie is in bold.

monday, 12:45am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, hot stuff?

uhh.. i just wanted to order a pepperoni pizza..

oh yeah? you want something hot and ready? i have something hot and ready for you.

ummm..

you hear some shuffling in the background, "jess! i think you gave me the wrong number!" the person comes back on the line again.

this isn't papa tony's cheesy pizza place?

....do you want me to roleplay as papa tony's cheesy pizza place?

woah woah woah! roleplay?? who the fuck am i on the phone with?

this is sugar from 1-800-GIRLS.....a sex hotline...for you know? phone sex.

PHONE SEX?? you hear the girl's voice yell in the background, "jesse! you ass! you gave me the number to a phone sex hotline!"

"does she sound hot?"

"well yeah, but—"

hey, you do know it's $1 a minute right? you've been on the line for almost 5 minutes, babe.

HUHH?? hell no..ok thanks sugar bear, or whatever. bye!

the line clicks off, and you shrug. sitting back in your bed to continue watching your favorite netflix show. you feel your work phone vibrate again, the name flashing 'bobby', a regular who frequents the hotline.

sighing and picking up your phone and holding it to your ear, you take a bite from your sandwich as you answer your 15th call this evening, "thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you, big boy?"

tuesday, 2:12am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's sugar speaking. how can i help you tonight, cutie?

hey....sugar.. i just- er- wanted to apologize for yesterday. my buddy got your number confused with a pizza place we really wanted to try. didn't mean to sound rude last night.

it's no issue, babe. don't sweat about it.

.......

soooo.... is that the only reason why you called?

ellie didn't want to admit that she was attracted to 'sugar's' voice and that she'd been thinking about it all day during class. but also, ellie was high as a fucking kite, which gave her the courage to even dial the number again anyways.

i— uh— well— how does this whole thing work?

what thing? the hotline?

yeah..

well, you call me, we have phone sex or talk or whatever, and then you hang up. again, it's a dollar a minute.

okay, okay, i get it. so we can just talk? about anything?

yeah, if you want to.

sick.

ellie takes another drag from her joint, before speaking again.

so, do you like doing this? being an operator or whatever?

you let out a laugh, which ellie caught.

specify what you mean by 'like'?

i mean— this is your job. do you enjoy doing it?

ehh...i guess.

c'mon. you can be honest with me.

well, being a sex hotline operator has it's downsides. obviously helping old men jack off gets a little weird sometimes — they have some unusual fetishes.

oh yeah? what's been the weirdest one so far?

uhhh..i have this one regular who has me pretend i'm a ghost. apparently, having sex with ghosts is a real turn on for him.

what the fuck. seriously?

mhm, it's true.

shit, dude....i don't think i could ever do what you do. i dunno how you can do it.

well when you have college tuition and rent to worry about, the downsides don't seem all that bad.

holy shit, you're in college? how old are you anyways?

19.

that's crazy. we're around the same age. i figured you were a bit older.

how 'bout you? how old are you?

21.

not bad not bad. you're way different from the clients i usually get.

yeah? how?

considering my usual clients are 40 to 60 year old men who are married with kids and have secret fetishes, i'd say you're out of my ballpark.

ellie laughs.

how do you know i'm not secretly an old, 57 year old man who's married to my wife janet with three kids? and i have a balloon fetish?

you let out a giggle, adjusting your sleep shorts as you lay back down on your bed, completely invested in your conversation with this girl.

well, how can i appease your balloon fantasies?

i'm just fuckin' with ya. definitely not a man and i have the more normal kinks and fetishes.

is that so? what are the 'normal' kinks and fetishes?

uhhhh....well i'm into bondage, i love tying girls up..i dunno, just seeing them open and vulnerable does something to me. i'm into breathplay, spitplay, overstimulation, and i'm definitely a dominant so—

all you could do was gape as the girl went on her tangent, listing off every kink she could think of. you gulped, suddenly getting a bit nervous from this topic of conversation. you were experienced in the field of phone sex, but actual sex was a totally different world you had no practice in.

so, how 'bout you sugar?

...uhhh....i'm a virgin actually.

the other girl went silent on the other side of the line.

what? but you work as a sex hotline operator.

oh yeah- but— hold on, i'm getting another call. i'll speak to you some other time.

you hung up and threw your work phone across your bed, laying your head down on your pillows. talking to men was so much easier for you, so why do you get all caught up when you talk to a girl?

it was nearly 3:30am, so you decided to turn in and call it a night, mentally preparing yourself for a busy day tomorrow.

wednesday, 11:45am

sitting next to professor adams, patiently waiting for the students to turn in their quizzes, you try to focus on the text of your 'philosophy 101' book.

you were grateful that professor adams gave you the opportunity to be his teacher's assistant for a little bit of extra cash, and you weren't complaining either. the tasks he gave you were easy for a mere $16 an hour. still, it wasn't enough to support all of your bills, so you couldn't drop the hotline gig.

"and time! everyone hand your quizzes in to my TA, regardless if you finished or not," professor announced. all the students shuffled towards the front, handing you their quizzes as you neatly put them in a small pile.

"ah shit— let me put the date on that," a girl, with a very familiar voice spoke. looking up, you're greeted with the most attractive girl you've seen in your life. she had brunette hair and green eyes, with a small scar on her right brow. was this..? no, it couldn't be. that would be insane.

handing you the paper, her hand brushes against yours. you look down at her quiz, seeing in messy, scribbled black ink the name ellie williams.

slinging her backpack on one arm, she heads out the door, "jesse! wait up for me!"

leaving you in a daze, you were completely speechless by the idea that one of your new, favorite clients from your nighttime job is actually a student at your university.

saturday, 1:45am → 1:14:34 ongoing call with 401-890-6798 (cranston, RI)

thanks, sugar. will be calling you again at the same time next week.

no problem, sir. goodnight. dream of me.

sure will, babygirl.

the line clicks as the older man hangs up, and you shudder a bit, feeling uncomfortable after having to roleplay as a ghost, again.

sighing heavily, you place your work phone on your desk and pick up your real phone, opening instagram and scrolling on your feed as you mindlessly snack on some gummy bears.

you double tap to like some of your friends pictures, wishing you were out at a party, drinking some lukewarm beer and dancing with your girls to the latest tiktok hits.

but instead you were cooped up in your apartment, dirty talking old men through their fantasies and bearing witness to their guttural groans and masturbation. it was a shame that friday and saturday nights were your busiest evenings.

taking your bottom lip between your teeth, you ponder for a moment, your finger hovering over the instagram search bar.

fuck it, you thought, typing 'ellie williams' and hitting search.

the username @_elliewilliams pops up, and bingo. it was the same girl from professor adams class.

luckily her profile was public, so you take your time carefully combing through her instagram account, mindful not to accidentally like her posts or anything.

ellie's feed consisted of smoking weed, eating out, and hanging with her friends, jesse and dina. there were only two selfies she had posted — one of her and an older gentleman and one mirror picture of her in a grey hoodie and a light brown canvas jacket that made her look so good.

the ringing from your work phone caught you off guard, causing you to jump in your chair and exit out of the instagram app. you take a look at the number, and speak of the devil, it was ellie herself. she was the only jackson number that ever contacted you.

saturday, 2:10am → incoming call from 307-222-4578 (jackson, WY)

thank you for calling 1-800-GIRLS, sugar speaking. what can i do for you, handsome?

hey, sugar. just wanted to apologize for how our last conversation went. i probably pushed a boundary or something— i'm not sure if you're supposed to talk about personal things with customers— so, i'm sorry.

you let out a soft laugh.

why is it when you call me, you're always apologizing?

'cause i'm a fuck up, that's why.

nooo, that's not true. besides, don't worry about it. your question just caught me off guard, you know? never had clients ask things about me before i guess.

ahh, gotcha. so...were you busy before i called?

you shake your head, even though she was on the phone and couldn't see you.

uh, not really. my line doesn't usually get busy until...12 midnight ish.. it slows down by like 2 am though. how about you? what are you up to this friday night?

i just got back home from a party. business was slow and it was getting boring, so i dipped.

business? what business?

ah— well—

ellie silently cursed to herself, not wanting to scare you away with her current occupation.

if i tell you what i do, promise you won't get freaked out or anything?

you're talking to a phone sex hotline operator. don't worry.

you can hear her laugh from the other end.

well, fuck it, cat's out of the bag. i deal weed on campus and shit.

ahhh. i like that. is that how you can afford the minutes you spend calling me?

yup. i can stay on the phone for hours if we wanted.

maybe you'll be my only customer.

i wouldn't complain.

speaking of customers, do you want me to save your number under a specific name or nickname or anything? since i'm assuming you're gonna be a regular?

trying to confirm if it was indeed ellie you were speaking with, you sat on the edge of your chair, anxiety building in your belly.

what nicknames do your clients usually pick?

uhhh. master, sir, king, mister, alpha— umm and daddy.

something stirred inside ellie hearing that last nickname roll off your tongue.

you could just put me down as ellie.

got it.

what do i call you? do i just keep calling you sugar?

well, you're a customer. you can call me anything you like, but, for formalities and privacy, i can only tell you my hotline nickname — sugar.

okay, okay, that makes sense. you're not really allowed to have any personal or close relationships with clients, huh?

no, not really. mostly for safety purposes.

ellie was a little disappointed to know that she wouldn't be able to get to know the girl she was talking to beyond calling on the phone. she already felt herself getting attached. your voice was alluring and enticing, and she couldn't help but want to hear it more, and possibly put a name and face to who it belonged to.

but, i could bend the rules a little if i really wanted to.

yeah? let's see about that.

saturday, 4:45 am → 2:43:03 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

oh my god! did you and your ex get caught??

you were enamored with ellie. the way she could keep a conversation going and the stories she told — you didn't wanna hang up.

no, no, no, luckily we hid behind a dumpsters before the cops could catch us. it's hilarious thinking about it now, but we were dumbass 18-year-olds back then.

you both were in fits of laughter, your belly aching and tears watering in the corners of your eye.

as you calmed down, you couldn't stop your mouth from asking a question that's been racking on your mind.

so, how long were you and your ex together?

uhhhh, about 2 years.

ohhh okay........are you seeing anyone right now?

ellie lets out a laugh, and you can hear her smile, even through the phone.

why? who's asking?

well, i was just— uhh—

i'm just fuckin' with you. nah, i'm not seein' anyone right now. single af.

okay, okay. good to know.

how 'bout you?

nope. i'm single too.

seriously?? how?

i dunno. just never found the right person i guess. also, working for this hotline has made me lose hope for relationships in general, some of these dudes call me and say all this stuff — while having a whole wife and family at home.

i think you're looking in the wrong place then. try talking to people at school or going out to parties—

can't. if i'm not doing homework or studying, i'm working and doing this. i gotta make a living somehow.

ellie couldn't help but feel bad, knowing if she could, she'd support you full time and take that weight off your shoulders.

hmm, maybe you'll meet someone who could support you and take care of your bills and stuff.

oh? where would i find that? sounds too good to be true.

maybe they're closer to you than you think.

your breath hitched in your throat, unsure of what to say next.

i— uh— i have to go. it's 5am.

oh— uh— yeah. of course. goodnight, sugar.

goodnight, ellie.

sunday, 11:37pm → incoming call from ellie (jackson, WY)

hey.

hey. where's your usual greeting?

you're not a usual customer, so i think we're past that now, ellie.

ellie's heart thumped in her chest hearing you say her name.

good. anyways, what are you up to tonight?

just studying for a quiz tomorrow morning. how about you?

smoking, just finished some homework.

what class was it for?

uhhh, just this calculus class.

you clamped your mouth shut, suppressing a gasp. it was for professor adams class.

....uhhh, i could never get calculus. it's so hard.

yeah? maybe one night i can tutor you.

i'd be a terrible student.

i think you'd be the perfect student. i can teach you, i got you.

you couldn't help but think there was another meaning behind her words, but you didn't want to jump to any conclusions. it would be embarrassing if you got her message all wrong.

what's your quiz on anyways?

energy transfer between cells, it's for biology.

i know a thing or two about that. here— why don't we do this, just explain to me what you know and we'll go from there.

okay, i can do that.

you and ellie spent the next two and a half hours talking about cell function and energy transfer and everything else in between, with her correcting you and adding in important things you missed.

alright, sugar, i think you're ready for this quiz tomorrow.

you think so?

i know so. you're such a smart girl.

there she goes again, praising you.

uh, th-thanks.

don't worry, okay? i know you'll do great.

a smile curls on your lips, flustered from all her support.

you should get some sleep, so you can be focused and ready for tomorrow.

m'kay. thank you, ellie, for all your help.

of course. always. goodnight, sugar.

goodnight, ellie.

monday, 5:32pm → 45:21 ongoing call with mister j (corpus christi, TX)

yeah, babe? you want me to fuck your tight ass?

mhm, yes mister.

c'mon. beg, sugar.

please. fuck my tight hole, mister j.

ah, hell.

you can hear his belt buckle clanging, and the soft buzz of a zipper.

what's wrong with 'ya tonight, sugar? you're bein' a real buzzkill, 'ya know that? fuckin' turnin' me off and makin' me soft.

i-i'm sorry, mister j. please, jus—

yea, yea, save it. we'll jus' try 'gain tomorrow.

the line clicks on the other end. tossing your work phone on your desk, you fall back on your bed and stuff your face in your pillow. weeping into the plush material, you let yourself fall apart and break down.

but your sobbing session is cut short as you can hear the familiar ring of your work phone.

wiping your tears, you walk over to your desk and answer.

monday, 5:45pm → 00:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

thanks for calling 1-800-GIRLS, it's suga-

woah, woah, woah are you crying?

e-ellie?

yeah, baby, it's me. sounds like you're crying. what's going on? talk to me.

today was just a really, really bad day and then i opened my hotline a little early and one of my first clients just lashed out on me because i wasn't responding the way he wanted me to and—

you sniffle.

— and i'm just really stressed out by everything going on in my life right now.

i'm sorry. i wish there was something i could do— someway i could comfort you or take the weight off.

i-it's fine, ellie. talking to you is making it a little better.

ellie was silent for a moment, thinking carefully and planning her next moves accordingly.

do you trust me?

....y-yea, of c-course. why?

i'm gonna help you ease the tension. okay?

okay.

first of all, where are you?

i-in my room, sitting at my desk.

okay. go lay down on your bed.

with your phone pressed to your ear, you pick up your legs and stride over to your bed, laying down on the fluffy, material of your blanket.

okay, i'm on my bed.

good. what are you wearing?

foreseeing the direction this phone call was heading in, apprehension builds in your stomach.

ellie, you really don't have to-

hey, i want to help you. if that's okay with you. if not, we could talk about something instead.

biting your lip, you fold.

i-i'm okay with it, but i-i've never— played with myself with a customer before. i don't really do anything with myself even when i'm not working anyways.

that's okay. don't think of me as a customer, think of me as a...teacher. i got you, remember?

okay.

good girl. now, what are you wearing?

uh.. a tank top and shorts.

cute. take them off.

gulping, you follow her orders, shimmying out of your top and shorts.

done?

mhm.

good. so obedient.

i want you to rub your boobs for me. rub your nipples, pull on them, just feel the skin under your hand for me, baby.

rubbing the soft skin along your breast, and tugging on your hardened nipples, you bite your lip, savoring the way your body feels under your touch.

how does it feel?

feels good.

bet it does.

ellie couldn't stop her mind from imagining you, on your bed, perfectly naked. and how she'd give everything up, just to sneak a peek.

now, i want you to just rub your hands against the sensitive parts of your body. be slow and gentle, we're not rushing anything.

as your hands drift from your neck, down to the hills of your breasts, and to the edge of your panties, ellie speaks through the line again.

doesn't it feel nice, baby?

mhm.

wish i could be there, to watch you, touching your pussy.

you instinctively clamp your thighs, feeling heat rush to your core.

alright, take your panties off. slowly.

you slowly peel the piece of material off, looking at the small, wet spot that formulated on your underwear.

okay, they're off.

such a good girl, following my every command.

you gulp, her nickname for you sending shivers up your spine.

slowly feel the skin on your legs. stroke your inner thighs, tease yourself a little.

hanging off on her every word, you let out a shaky breath, the heat in your cunt growing only bigger and bigger.

god, i wish i can be there to see this right now. bet you look so good, thighs spread apart, pussy all wet— all because of me.

i- i'm aching. i need more, ellie.

i know, baby, i know. i wish i can help you more. if it were up to me, i'd have you bent over your desk, taking you from the back. fuck.

your mind drifts to that image, of her fucking you, taking you as hers. a stream of your slick begins to leak out from your pussy. god, you wanted her so bad.

slide a finger between your pussy, baby. let me hear how wet you are.

spreading your thighs apart, the tip of your fingers slips in between the folds of your pussy lips, the slick sound of your wetness echoing throughout the room. loud enough for ellie to hear.

fuuuuuck.

you tried to speak, but it comes out sounding like a pathetic whimper. ellie's brain was going insane, she couldn't believe where she had you, writhing from her mere words.

go ahead, pretty girl. rub slow circles on your clit.

the pads of your pointer and middle finger gently rub steady, figure 8's against your hardened nub. closing your eyes, you imagined ellie, and how it was her hand instead of yours. the thought had you panting, faint breaths releasing from your parted lips.

your pussy sounds so wet, holy shit. you sound so fucking good for me. so fucking perfect.

as your fingers continue massaging on your sopping, wet clit, a pool of wetness gathers right below your ass.

how does it feel, baby?

f-feels amazing, ellie.

you let out a low whimper.

i wish you were here.

me too, pup. me too.

you can hear her heavy breaths from the other end of the phone.

i wish i could be there, kissing your neck. trailing my lips down to suck on your nipples. fuuck, wanna taste every inch of your skin. i wanna feel your pussy tighten around my fingers.

you let out another pitiful moan, only to hear ellie curse under her breath again.

rub your pussy faster for me, angel. imagine it's me, pumping my fingers in and out. would daddy's pretty girl like that?

you couldn't respond. all you could let out was these weak whines, yearning for ellie and her touch. you added a third finger, building onto the pressure and picking up the speed.

your moans sound so pretty. wonder how'd they sound when you're taking my strap. gonna have you cry out my name, yeah? isn't that right?

mhm, yes, daddy.

good. that's what daddy likes to hear, such a polite girl.

with your eyes rolling back, you could feel your orgasm building.

i-i'm gonna— ellie, i—

you gonna cum for me, puppy? huh? c'mon, rub faster, baby. i know you have a little bit more left in you.

your fingers speed up, the sound of your wetness gushing out reverberated in ellie's ear.

oh my god, daddy can i? please? can i—

arching your back, you knew you were close. the feeling was getting to be too much and you were about to fall over the edge.

look at my baby, so respectful and asking permission. come on, pretty puppy. cum for daddy. let daddy hear how good she made you feel.

that was it. letting out a penetrating moan, you rode your orgasm out and finished all over your fingers, making a mess. you were heaving, chest rapidly rising and falling.

god, i made a mess.

oh, yeah? do one more thing for me. suck your fingers clean. puppies clean up their messes.

monday, 8:57pm → 3:01:32 ongoing call with ellie (jackson, WY)

after your little self-care session with ellie, she took it upon herself to get your mind off of today's events, filling your conversation with stories and interesting topics.

oh, forgot to ask, what'd you end up getting on that biology quiz?

ughhh, i got a 65 out of 100. one of the reasons why i was so upset today.

seriously? how?

i don't know! i asked professor gonzalez and she told me that i was focusing on the wrong thi-

wait, did you just say professor gonzalez? holy shit, you're taking biology 201 with professor g? do you fucking go to school at university of wyoming? in jackson?

oh shit, you didn't mean for that to slip out.

i— uh— i have to go—

wait! sugar! please. hear me out.

you stay silent, waiting for what she had to say.

if we really do go to the same campus, please, let's meet up. i really want to see you.

.....why?

i just— i love talking to you. spending hours with you on the phone is what i look forward to when i get home. besides, i really want to take you out, on a date.

you bit your lip, unsure of what to say.

listen, if you want to see me too, meet me at the library in building B, by the comic book section. okay? tomorrow at 1pm.

....

i really hope you come.

the line clicks off, and you spend the rest of the night restless, tossing and turning, debating whether or not to see her tomorrow.

tuesday, 2:50pm

ellie eagerly checked her phone again, bouncing her knee in distress. her mind was running rampant — fuck, she's not gonna come. maybe jesse was right. maybe i was wasting my time.

looking up for the 80th time, she scans the comic book section, seeing no one else but some dude with his face buried in a wonder woman comic.

as ellie gets up from her chair, she turns her head, and she freezes.

there you were, looking like an angel who entered from the garden of eden. ellie's heart sped up, seeing her girl standing before her. you were everything she could've imagined and better.

walking slowly towards the brunette, you brush a piece of hair from your face, and smile meekly.

"hi ellie, it's me."

pls let me know how this fic was, i tried out a new writing style & read pt 2 here <3

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams tlou #the last of us #the last of us ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #tlou #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst

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sttoru · 10 months

Text

𝐌𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

⟣ sypnosis. you’re fed up with your rich abusive husband and finally decide to hire a skilled assassin to get rid of him in secrecy. one night when you’re left alone in your penthouse, you invite the assassin named toji over to give him the money he’s demanded to accept the job. things turn for the worse when your husband comes home early that day and catches toji and you together.

⟣ note. eeek. never thought i’d be here to write this out but i did and it turned pretty detailed if i must say. hope u all enjoy and appreciate my hard work. feedback / comments are greatly appreciated ! if the fic does well, i can make an alternative ending that’s smutty :3 wc: 7.4k

⟣ tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. angst, comfort. themes include abuse. reader is in an abusive + toxic relationship with her husband. implied age gap with husband. implied size difference with toji. mentions of guns + blood + m.urder. knifes.

“what is a successful marriage?”

that is one of the many questions that keep you up at night. you’ve laid awake for hours on end ever since you’ve married your husband, in search for reasonable answers. you’ve got many of them sorted out, however that specific question is one left unanswered.

it is very subjective—many can vary about the concrete answer. but one thing you know for sure is that your marriage is the exact opposite of what ‘successful’ means.

you were so full of yourself. you didn’t realise that your pride would also be your downfall one day; you’d constantly brag about having a rich husband who gets you everything you wanted. you were too blinded by love—or actually—by his money to notice the real him. the real, twisted and manipulative face of the man you were determined to marry.

his name was daisuke. from the yamamoto family. a family known in japan for its generational wealth and the many buildings and famous corporations it owns. you’ve worked at one of those companies and had met daisuke whilst he was on a visit. you’ve heard about his image by the public; sweet, caring and apparently wouldn’t hurt a fly.

unfortunately, the true him matched none of those descriptions. the true him only you—his wife—came face to face with at your shared home. you remember when it started. when daisuke began to turn into a nasty, abusive man whose anger is never restrainable.

your dating years were nothing but a dream. or, maybe you were too gullible to notice the signs and red flags your then boyfriend was showing. his love bombing, the manipulation, the gaslighting—you didn’t know better. if you complained about a minor thing that he had done, daisuke would apologise by sending you lots of money and presents. toxic, isn’t it?

but you didn’t care. you were happy and content with that being your compensation. the money was the evildoer that made you lose all your morals. the teenage you who said that you’ll never put up with a man’s disrespect was long forgotten.

even now, 4 years later, you put up with his verbal and physical abuse just to continue staying in that big mansion you live in. to continue getting everything paid for you. to continue getting lots of money by doing nothing but be his wife—his trophy wife, at this point.

it’s an easy life; ‘all i have to do is get through his abuse and it’ll be just fine’, you tell yourself that every night. it’s the only thing keeping you sane—a coping mechanism of some kind.

however lately, daisuke’s never skipped a day without being abusive towards you. he’d enter your home yelling and shouting, complains about the tiniest speck of dust in the house (which is not even your fault, it’s the maids’), reminds you how worthless you are in his eyes and the list goes on. he sometimes gets physical and throws stuff at you, causing multiple bruises and cuts to appear on your body after he’s done having his daily tantrum.

he might even kill you one day. it’s scary to think about; if he would, he easily could. he could one day just decide to be done with you and stick a knife in your body, leave you to bleed out and then order one of his men to get rid of your corpse. just like his family does to whoever stands in their way of success. you don’t want to discover how many people your husband has killed.

daisuke can easily get away with murder after all—the law is nothing but a thing to exist to keep the common citizens in the government’s control. to the rich, it’s like those rules don’t exist. court? justice? the so called independent judge? nothing money can’t buy. after all, money is power. money is innocence.

after four years of sticking with that rich man, you were getting tired. you were staying with him for his wealth, but was it actually worth it? besides, if daisuke hates you so much, why wouldn’t he divorce you instead? you don’t have anything going for you. except for your looks and youth, probably. that’s the main reason why daisuke coaxed you into marrying him—to show you off during events or parties. a complete and utter trophy wife you are.

you’ve been going to sketchy bars lately to let off some steam. you weren’t even there to drink alcohol. the sole reason for attending pubs was to forget about your own situation. you’d get weird stares since you’re always alone, sitting in that one spot in the far corner, no one wanting to come up to you because of that gloomy aura you’re emitting. and because you’re always dressed modestly from head to toe—not an ounce of skin showing. it was all the opposite of what most people would normally look and act like in bars.

‘what is normal?’ also a subjective question. society has turned it into an objective one, however.

“good day, miss.” a deep voice had interrupted your thoughts one day whilst you were doing your usual routine; sit near the bar counter, get a non-alcoholic drink, stare at the table for hours and question your purpose in life before going home to the reason of your problems.

a man, probably in his late 30’s or early 40’s, sat next to you on an available stool. he nonchalantly ordered a drink before making small talk. it was a nice change of pace for some reason. you had asked him his name. it was shiu.

that stranger had kept you company for hours until a call from your husband made you snap back to reality; you had to be home as soon as possible. judging by daisuke’s tone, you were in big trouble.

you remember how shiu outed his concern for your well-being by pointing out the bruises on your arm which you didn’t even know were showing.

you dismissed his worries with a fake smile and told him it was nothing, quickly pulling your sleeve back down. shiu seemed to let the topic go, but before parting ways with you, he handed you his business card. you didn’t know what it was for—what kind of services he could offer;

“call that number if you need someone to get rid of your problems,” was all you got before the mysterious man walked away. you couldn’t shake off the emphasis on the word ‘rid’. it sent a shiver down your spine.

that sentence of shiu’s echoed in your ears as tears streamed down your cheek after you arrived home. you were in your personal bathroom, hands shaking as you put a bag of ice on your fresh bruise, the small red and blue-ish area stinging. once again—you couldn’t avoid your husband’s wrath.

after having slept for a mere two hours that day in your bathtub, you’ve awoken to an empty house. daisuke was gone for work. luckily for you.

you hastily grabbed the business card in your purse and dialled the number. staring at the card, you’d think it was some kind of house cleaning service. that’s the kind of vibe it gave. little did you know that it was far from that.

a few rings later and you heard the same familiar deep voice in your ear; “good morning. with shiu kong.”

your heart was beating in your throat as you couldn’t gather the right words to say. maybe it was due to the little voice in the back of your head that warned you for something—you couldn’t pinpoint what the specific cause was just yet.

you answered eventually, “hi. uhm, you said i could call this number if i needed someone to get rid of my problems.” you pause and inhale deeply, “wh-what if my problem was.. a person? would you…” your voice trailed off, but the implication could not be missed by anyone if they heard the tone you used.

shiu seemed to recognise your voice, though stayed silent for a second or two at your request. when he replied, it sounded like he had expected you to ask him this—like he’s heard this many times before; “certainly.”

that’s when you realised what you’ve gotten yourself involved with. you were sweating and you had trouble breathing as you realised that.. this was your chance. to get rid of that man called your husband. your abuser.

you had decided to take on that opportunity and that’s how you ended up getting a phone call from an anonymous number right after your talk with shiu. the agent hadn’t told you anything other than the name of the person who’d contact you; ‘toji’, and said that he’d help you further.

you stared at the ‘no caller ID’ on your screen. this was him: the person who’d help you get rid of your problem. you gulped before sliding your thumb across your mobile to answer the call.

“hi, good m—”

“location.”

the husky male voice cut through your introduction and got straight to the point. your lips were parted to answer the man whom you guessed was ‘toji’, but your breath got caught in your throat for a second. do you just randomly give your address to a stranger? was that okay to do? you didn’t know—no, you didn’t care. if you got killed in the process or something similar, that’d be way better than to live another day in hell with your husband.

you dropped your address after some hesitation and toji just added a quick, ‘be there in an hour or so,’ before hanging up on you.

fast forward to 50 minutes later and you were pacing back and forth in your living room, trying to breathe properly and not have a second panic attack. daisuke wouldn’t be home until noon, so at least he won’t see whoever will enter your mansion in a few minutes. and if there’s a possibility that you get killed by this stranger, you’re sure that your husband would be more than happy that the job was done for him.

a loud tune. the sound of your doorbell. normally, you’d find the short melody relaxing, but now it sounded like something out of a nightmare. you made your way to your intercom and looked at the small screen—seeing a tall black-haired man with a compressed shirt and beige baggy pants standing near the gates. that must be toji—the man you talked to an hour ago.

he must be confident in his abilities since he didn’t cover up his identity at all when coming all the way over here.

you press a button and the gates open with a buzz. toji disappears from the little screen as he enters your front yard. the screen fades to black and you’re left alone with a sense of dread in your stomach. that only lasted for a couple seconds since the doorbell of your front door goes off.

“c-coming!” your voice cracks. you make your way over to the entrance of your home and breathe in. you open the doors slightly, peeking through the gap at the tall, intimidating man standing before you.

toji was kicking a rock to the side whilst waiting and looked up when you opened the doors. he seemed laidback, as if this was nothing but child’s play to him, “took ya long enough.”

you were appalled as toji simply barged into your home like he owned it. his strong, masculine cologne wafted through the air as he passed you by without giving you a second to process his intrusion.

your shaky eyes followed his bulky figure—the muscles that bulged through his shirt, which tensed every now and then. his aura was no joke either; it was horrifying to someone whom didn’t even know who he was or what he exactly did for a living.

“phewww,” the dark-haired man let out a low whistle as his eyes scanned the interior of the entrance hall, shamelessly touching a few expensive looking decorations, inspecting the material, “pretty damn rich, ain’t ya? this y’r daddy’s money?”

you shake your head and close the door behind you, staying there in case you needed to run. you are still wary of this situation, even when you had been the one that started this all.

“h-husband’s.” your voice was a quiet whisper. toji raised an eyebrow and turned his attention towards you. his eyes scanned you from head to toe. you looked pretty young. a fragile little thing, is how he described you in his head.

“husband? you?” toji chuckles dryly, before stepping closer to you, his body towering over yours. he lowers his head and stares at you from up close, his hands in his pockets whilst wordlessly looking at you.

you swallowed a bit of saliva and glanced back at the big man whom belittled you twice in just a couple seconds. you fumbled with the sleeve of your hoodie as the silence grew deafening—the only sound being your own soft yet shallow breathing.

your fingers scratched at the bruises under the fabric of your clothes, causing the cloth to slightly crinkle and glide up a few centrimeters with each rub before coming back down once your fingers stop. the instant you start touching those bruises, the itching just wouldn’t stop.

toji noticed this and looked down at your arm. his eyes caught a small glimpse of a wound on your wrist, but he didn’t seem to comment on it. with a sniff, he straightened his back and cocked his head to the right—face cold again as he glared at you;

“do ya know what kinda stuff i do?” his voice was booming, the deepness to it making you shiver. you press your lips together and search for answer, only to find nothing;

“n-no, i mean—“ your itching increases the more nervous you felt, “th-the man who directed me to you said you’d explain things further. all i know is that you can get rid of uhm— a problem of mine.”

toji scoffs and mutters something incomprehensible under his breath about his ‘stupid agent letting him do all the work’ before turning around. he lazily walks ahead as if he had all the time he needed in the world. once arrived in your living room, the man plops down on your couch, spreads his legs and leans back against the cushions. he really acted like he owns this place.

“i’m not the type to beat around the bush, little lady,” toji starts whilst his eyes follow you as you nervously sat on the chair next to the sofa, “so i’m gonna get straight into it. and if ya back down after this or get too scared ‘n call the cops, unfortunately, y’r pretty ass gotta go.”

toji swipes a thumb across his neck to indicate what that latter meant; killed. you’re gonna get killed if you learn his real identity and decide to expose it to anyone, especially the police. you blinked your tears away whilst thinking of that possibility and shook your head, putting on a determined face. you need to take responsibilities for your actions. you were the one who started this.

“all right. i promise that i won’t back down.” you reply after getting yourself together. toji’s eyes had left yours for a second to look around the grand living room—as if inspecting for something—before settling back on you. he quickly exhales through his nose; leaning his head on his hand while his piercing gaze burned holes in your skin,

“i’m an assassin.” toji says in a bored tone. he’s done this little introduction to his job so many times before to clients who hire him in for the first time, “i kill people in exchange for money. so, ya basically hired me to get rid of someone ‘nd i’m here to collect the money and information i need to finish the job. got that?”

there it was. the confirmation you needed and got without an ounce of hesitation coming from the man in front of you. you had expected this outcome (from the many you created in your head), of course, thus you weren’t that surprised. yet the fact that you actually have a hitman in your house, someone who can easily kill your husband, still makes you nervous.

“yes, thank you.” you eventually replied and nodded, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. you looked up at toji and this time it wasn’t in a nervous way. this time it was in a determined way. toji notices this change and the scarred corner of his lip curled into a smirk.

“how much. . . money do you want for this job?” you go straight to the point. the dark-haired man grins whilst scanning your figure up and down shamelessly, enjoying the confident look on you. it suited you better.

“depends. who is it that i gotta kill?” toji asks, using his thumb to crack his index finger. you look around as if anyone could hear you. you were sure that no one was there with you, no maids no bodyguards no husband, yet your anxiety was still at its peak.

“my husband.” you reply quietly and point at the big picture frame on the wall near the chimney. it was a picture of daisuke and you. you seemed happy there, but it was all for show. that photoshoot was simply for his benefit, “daisuke. daisuke yamamoto.”

toji raises his eyebrow and stares at the picture. he’s heard of that name before. it was mentioned many times in the articles he reads. the assassin stands up with a grunt and walks to the chimney, letting out a small hum like he was thinking about it. not about if he could get the job done—no, his pride told him he easily could—but about the amount of money he wanted to get out of this.

there was a silence before toji turns around on his heels and walks over to the couch again, plopping down on the soft cushions whilst propping his feet on the table in front of him, “around seven million yen will do.”

that was about 50.000 dollars.

your jaw slightly dropped. it’s not like you haven’t seen nor heard of such big numbers before, it’s just that it was a little unexpected. but then again; nothing you can’t afford. with your husband’s money. the same money that ruined your life, is going to be used as a weapon to save it.

daisuke’s own money is going to be the death of him. and you’re the one to guarantee that.

“all right. i can get you that in cash.” you nod idly. your mind was clearly somewhere else—trying to remember the password to daisuke’s safe that was situated in a hidden room near his office. you recently found out that he keeps most cash, gold and other valuable pieces there, away from your sight. he was bad at hiding that fact from you, however.

one night, he came home drunk and it ended up with him confessing to you that he ‘won’t ever let a gold digger like you near his money again’ and proceeded to spill that he ‘has a secret safe which you won’t ever get your hands on’. eventually, you did. after a bit of snooping around, you easily found the hidden room behind a bookcase.

those fat stacks of money in there definitely add up to more than seven million yen. you’re sure of it. the only obstacle in your way is gathering that money. most of the time, daisuke locks his office before leaving home—or if he doesn’t—his maids will be in there cleaning.

“it will take me some time, but…” your voice trails off as a pensive look falls on your face. you bite your bottom lip and try to figure out something—a plan. toji catches your attention again by letting out a deep sigh. he dismissively waves your worries away with one hand;

“tha’s fine, lady. i need some time to prepare for this job too—it ain’t an easy one after all.” the assassin comments whilst scratching the scar near his lips, also seemingly deep in thought about his own plan, “bet he got lots of guards on his ass, too. tch.”

there was another thought in the back of toji’s mind that bothered him. normally, he’d be pissed off if his client didn’t prepare any kind of money beforehand. maybe some compensation bills, or at least a little thing he can have before they give him the full amount.

but with you, he seems not to mind. he wouldn’t be mad if he left this place empty handed for the time being. maybe he actually feels pity for your situation. or was it something else?

toji scoffs at his wandering mind and inwardly tells himself to shut up about such dumb stuff. getting his money is what’s most important to him. if you die afterwards, he wouldn’t care.

that’s what he tells himself.

“anyways. you should gimme all ya know about him. y’re his wife, right? ya should know his routine ‘n stuff that i can work with.” toji speaks up after the ten seconds of silence. you nod at his question—he wanted every single piece of information about your husband, so you’ll give him everything. no details excluded.

you pull out your phone and show toji pictures you took from daisuke’s computer in secrecy. pictures of his daily schedule for the upcoming month. your prior intention by taking those was to know when to be back home or when to avoid him, but they could be useful for this as well.

you continue to explain when and where daisuke holds his breaks, where his main office is located, the bodyguards that accompany him every day and when they leave him alone— all the information you gathered.

toji can’t help but be amazed by your memory. and the fact that you can recall everything, small or big, about your husband. it certainly did make his job easier; now he doesn’t have to pry out more hints on daisuke himself.

of course, you had your reasons for knowing all the miniscule facts about daisuke. it’s how you managed to survive those four years of marriage.

“good. tha’s enough.” toji nods and stands up with a grunt, stretching his arms—the muscles retracting. you couldn’t help but stare at them; he must have gone through a lot of training to become an assassin. a skilled one at that.

“before i go,” toji continues as he walks past you without looking back, heading straight for the exit of the living room, “you should delete all cctv footage that ya got going on ‘round here. i’ll take care of further evidence, yeah?”

toji moves his index finger in a circle, pointing at all corners in the house. he doesn’t want to risk anything, “i’ll call ya once i get things sorted out. then i’ll get to work when ya hand me the money.”

you nod and make a mental note for yourself to do that immediately once toji’s gone. you still had an hour or two before your husband would return. you don’t think he checks the cctv footage often (otherwise he’d have caught you sneaking into his office before), but it’ll be a big problem if he actually does and sees a random man in his home.

“will do. thank you.” you reply to toji and get up to politely see him out of your house. that’s when the realisation kicked in; your husband will be killed by this man right here in front of you. goosebumps appeared on your skin—not from fright. but from… happiness?

this stranger will end years of torment for you. yes, it’s his job. he’ll probably disappear after he’s got the money and completed your request, and yet, you can’t help but be extremely thankful.

without thinking, you reach out and grab onto toji’s wrist to stop him from moving. the assassin doesn’t stiff or tense up by this sudden touch. in fact, he’s already sensed it coming and allowed it.

toji’s actually more surprised by the fact that his mind and body allowed you to touch him. if it were anyone else, he’d probably have avoided their touch, broken their hand or worse—cut it off.

he moves his head to the side and looks at you from his peripherals, though not fully turning to you yet. he doesn’t speak up either; he’s waiting on you to go first.

your heart was somehow starting to beat even faster. you bit your lip and mentally cursed yourself out for pulling such an action; you could’ve just waited to show your gratitude through the phone.

well, either way, there was no going back now so you might as well spill your words of gratitude right this moment. you took a deep breath and parted your lips, ready to talk, but was then interrupted by your biggest nightmare.

a familiar, chilling voice. your heart drops. your body freezes.

“i knew it.”

a looming figure stood near the entrace to the living room. you recognised him instantly, as did your body, which went into an almost paralysed state. your mouth went dry, your hands started shaking and your eyes widened to the point you weren’t blinking anymore.

your husband, daisuke, appeared out of thin air in front of toji and you. his gaze was solely focused on the way your fingers were curled around toji’s wrist. to top it off, he had only heard the last bits of your conversation: something about deleting cctv and money. his brain hadn’t heard the entirety of it—he had already taken wrong conclusions in his head.

daisuke’s veins were on the verge of popping as he took two big steps towards you—you taking two steps back in response.

“i knew you were cheating on me, you fuckin’ slut.” daisuke spits with his finger pointed right at you. he was ignoring toji’s presence for the time being. he had to deal with you first;

“i work my ass off all day and night to provide for you and this is how you repay me? by inviting a random dude over whilst i’m gone? ungrateful bitch.”

two insults in a row; one more and daisuke’s putting his hands on you. it always went like that. your mind felt like it was emptied, but you somehow felt relieved that your husband didn’t seem to know the real reason of why toji had come over. daisuke really thought you were just cheating on him, and that your words of ‘deleting all cctv footage’ was to hide that infidelity.

“it’s n-not.. like that, daisuke.” you try to soothe the raging man in front of you, but your attempts were futile. he was just three quick steps away from resorting to physical violence.

toji, in the meantime, had stepped off to the side. you were only his client, thus there was no need to interrupt a couple’s ‘dispute’. you weren’t anyone dear or special to him—just a client. a stranger that owes him money to perform a job.

the assassin leans against a nearby wall, crossing his arms over his chest whilst watching the scene unfold. it was unfortunate that toji’s target was right there in front of him; he could just kill him right now. get the job done and over with. but, once again, toji only got to work if he had the money. he only assassinates when his skills are paid for. not any earlier and not any later. those were his morals—the rules he lives by.

if toji wanted to, he could simply walk away and let you handle this stuff by yourself. daisuke accusing him of being your ‘thing on the side’ didn’t bother him. as long as your husband doesn’t know his real identity, he’s fine with whatever accusations that get thrown at him.

but, for some reason—the same reason from earlier—his body was yelling at him to stay. toji sighs; he knows he won’t ever win a battle against his heart’s needs. he decides to stay.

daisuke still doesn’t seem to care about this; all the man wants is to out his anger and accuse you of things he now has enough ‘evidence’ for. he was seething and fuming at this revelation.

“god knows what else you’ve done behind my back. i bet he isn’t the only one you’ve fucke—“

“stop! i’m not cheating,” you finally yell back. it was the first time in a while that you had gathered the strength to do so. it felt good now that you had stuck up for yourself, but you knew how this would end for you—probably on the floor. crying.

despite all of that, you decided to keep on going. it’s now or never: all you have to do is make up a lie, probably withstand daisuke’s anger again and hope it doesn’t kill you. just this once; all you have to do is survive this once and then you’ll be freed from him.

you’ll give toji his money and he will do the job for you. just a few more days—

“he’s.. he’s my friend’s husband. i invited them both over and he just arrived earlier than expected.” you quickly made up. it sounded a little convincing to you. toji’s low snicker of amusement in the back confirmed that it maybe was the opposite of convincing.

daisuke scoffs at the pathetic attempt of hiding your ‘infidelity’. with another step forward, he raises his voice a notch; “yeah, right! what a pathetic excuse.”

a second step—you were waiting on that third curse. that third swear word that would set hell loose in this house, “do you really think you can fool me with that? huh?!”

it hadn’t happened yet. you still had time to think of a plan to perhaps escape this situation. your eyes flickered over to toji, although it didn’t seem like he’d be of any help. of course, he’s just an outsider after all. a stranger whom you just met today.

assassins have already disregarded their heart emotions the moment they decided to go down the path of killing for a living. you wouldn’t even blame toji for not stepping in. you’re also but a stranger to him.

toji could see the glimmer of hope in your eyes when you looked at him. or maybe it was a call for help. a desperate look. he can’t tell the difference. though, what he can tell, is that there was a gnawing feeling in the pits of his stomach. a gut feeling that told him it’d be smart to interfere.

but there’s his rational thoughts that tell him to not get involved—to avoid any more trouble than needed. besides, what other benefits would it bring him if he did? toji doesn’t want to be seen as a hero or saviour by anyone.

his jaw clenches as the time ticks. only a couple seconds left before the cold-hearted assassin has to make a decision.

daisuke’s patience was running low. the tension was increasing and could burst at any given moment now. one wrong move and you’re done—

one wrong breath could result in the worst possible outcome.

your silence spoke volumes to daisuke. the way you held your head low, your eyes that flickered from the floor to the ceiling, your fingers that nervously fumbled with your clothes and your bottom lip that trembled unstoppably. that pissed him off.

everything about you pissed him off. daisuke didn’t see any benefits of having you around anymore. he hadn’t for the long time, however didn’t know how he’d get rid of you.

divorce? no, he’ll have to give some of his earnings to you. kick you out? a possibility, but that would ruin his reputation. blackmail? that option was now the best choice. he’s caught you with another man after all. with camera evidence.

but, daisuke wouldn’t be satisfied with that outcome. his rage was blinding him—more than usual. he has to make you learn your lesson. in a way that will have you begging for your life to be spared.

and thus, the last step was made. the deciding hands were raised—aimed for your neck. the final curse had left his lips;

“come here. i’ll show you how whores like you should be treated.”

killing intent. it was the first time you’ve seen daisuke’s gaze darken that much, his demeanour emotionless yet full of rage. you close your eyes and expect for the worse.

“tha’s enough.”

everything went blank to you. it was silent, your vision was black, your hands were above your head, your heart felt like it wasn’t beating anymore—had you met your end? had you already been murdered?

in that same instant, you could feel drops of liquid splatter on your face. a faint ringing sound in your ears—it sounded like fireworks had been set off. a loud ‘pop’ sound.

something hit the ground right after. it wasn’t your body since that someone or something landed right at your feet.

after that: utter silence.

you gathered all your strength once more and slowly opened your eyelids. your vision was a bit blurry, though the first shape you could make out was one of a man on the ground. and not just any man—it was the man whom you hated most. at your feet.

you would’ve never thought of seeing that image before. of your husband laying at your feet; both literally and figuratively. a red liquid gushed out of his head and soaked into your shoes.

a normal wife would’ve let out a blood hurling scream at the sight of her lover laying lifelessly near her. a normal wife with a healthy relationship, that is.

you did let out a scream at the sight of your husband laying lifelessly near your feet. but that wasn’t done out of panic for your husband’s life—or due to the pain you were in to see him dead.

it was purely because you hadn’t seen a corpse before.

“d-daisuke..?”

a normal wife would’ve called out her husband’s name in a futile attempt that he’d answer back. that all of it was a dream. that her beloved wasn’t dead.

your reason wasn’t anything close to that. you called out that name in hopes he wouldn’t answer back. that all of it wasn’t a dream. that your abuser was dead.

it was real. you were glad, yet extremely disturbed by the fact that there was a corpse at your feet. you didn’t want to see all of it happening—that wasn’t part of the plan.

you stumble back a bit, hands clutching onto the chair you bumped into as you did your best to avoid the gruesome scene before your eyes. you just wished someone would clean the mess as soon as possible.

it’s then that your gaze fell on the other person present in the room; the man who was standing with a gun in his hand. toji scratched his head with the barrel, cold eyes looking down at the corpse with a faintly visible disgusted expression.

the assassin clicks his tongue as he walks towards the lifeless body and puts the sole of his shoe on daisuke’s cheek as if he was stepping on a pile of dirt, moving the head back and forth to check for any possible ounce of life in there.

there was none. the soul had left its body almost instantly after that bullet went through his brain. toji sighs; this time at himself for acting irrationally, “should’ve tortured you to death for tryin’ to put y’r hands on that lady instead of givin’ you the easy way out.”

with a harsh kick to the head on the floor, toji gathers some of his saliva on his tongue before spitting on the man. doubling the disrespect; “consider yourself lucky.”

toji cocked his head to the right. that’s where he spotted you with a familiar look on your face. the expression of someone who just went through a traumatic experience. he’s seen many people react like you when facing a near death experience or when witnessing somebody die before them.

usually, he’d tell them ‘it’s normal, get used to it’ and leave it at that. this was different. it felt different with you.

“are you okay?” the words slipped out of toji’s mouth before he could hold them back. his tone was a mixture of genuine concern and confusion. the latter was due to his own state of mind at the moment.

you didn’t answer, but you put your hands on your mouth as if you were going to puke any moment now. your vision was getting blurry with tears, head spinning and body feeling numb and weird.

toji hesitates before stepping towards you. his hands reached out to hold you, though he stopped them. he’d figured you wouldn’t be comfortable with him touching you in any way or form. he just killed someone in front of you—

it’s not like you cared that it was your husband. that much was clear. you sniff and glance up at toji with such a relieved yet devastated expression that his arms instinctively wrapped around you and pulled you into his warm embrace.

it was an awkward hug since toji doesn’t really know the basics of comforting someone. he was a bit stiff, but you didn’t show any discomfort due to that fact. instead, you clung onto his body and left tear stains on his black shirt.

“shhh, shh. it’s fine. it’s okay.” toji whispers, whilst his big hands indecisively move around, trying to find a spot to rest on. one eventually lands on the back of your head whilst the other starts to slowly rub up and down your spine, “it’s over, yeah? all of it—it’s over.”

toji doesn’t have a clue about the exact details of what your life was like. why you asked him to kill your (now ex-)husband was none of his business. all he knew was that he was going to get paid for it, so he didn’t care what the reason was.

it wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed the scars and bruises on your body throughout your conversation either—but that as well—was none of his business. assassins do their job without any further questions. there was no need to have personal connections or relations with their clients.

yet, toji was going against those unspoken rules once more. all because of you. for you.

“thank y—you.” your voice was weak as you speak up. it sounded hoarse and tired, though the sense of gratitude was undeniably there, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

a series of ‘thank you’s’ leave your lips whilst your body and mind were still trying to recover from the whole ordeal. toji was trying his best to keep by your side until you calmed down. that’s the least he could do—after the fact that he singlehandedly got rid of the main problem in your life.

“no need to thank me, lady.” the dark-haired man whispers, allowing you to mess up his shirt with your tears and tugs, “i did what i had to do.”

toji didn’t actually have to do what he did. he never does his job before he’s guaranteed the money. however this time, it was a different story. he did it without thinking. he had to. his body was telling him to move—and in a flash—it was done.

he tries to tell himself that it’s just him slacking off. that he isn’t possibly starting to care about another person. he shouldn’t; those complicated emotions would stand in his way. and yet. . .

“c’mere.”

toji lifts you up bridal style while you keep quivering against his shoulder. his hands had a tight grip on your body, his eyes a sharp gaze on the mess he created. with a sigh, he takes you upstairs to a random room—kicking the door open.

toji carefully puts you back on your feet and guides you to sit on the edge of the kingsized bed. he absentmindedly brushes a few strands of your hair back after wiping some more tears away from your face;

“i know it’s a lot to take in,” toji kneels down before you, looking up with an unreadable expression whilst wiping the tears from your cheeks. his warm palms make contact with your skin and it’s like you’ve forgotten all about what just happened, “but is it okay if ya stay here while i go take care of the rest? i’ll come back once i’m done.”

toji has his own ways of cleaning up after he’s done a job and most likely wants to put one of those techniques to use before any maid or guard comes to check in on the house situation. you sniffle and hiccup afterwards, trying to form a verbal response through your broken sobs, but to no avail.

you simply nod and lean into toji’s calloused hands—such rough and masculine hands—ones that were meant to protect instead of hurt you. you weren’t able to trust men after your marriage, however this one in front of you was unlike any other. even if he may not seem like it on the outside.

his touch was gentle yet firm. the pads of his thumbs swiped the wet skin under your lower eyelashes and you could’ve sworn toji’s gaze had softened for a split second before he caught himself.

he had to stand up, get rid of the mess and leave the place before he got too attached to you. the assassin cannot make such a grave mistake.

“i promise,” toji speaks up after a bit again, standing up after giving you a soft pat against your shoulder, “you’re fine. i’ll be back—ya have my word.”

there he goes; making promises he knows he probably can’t keep. ‘i’ll be back’, will he? he can’t. for your own safety. he has to treat you as just another client. none of what he did in this house could be spoken of anymore.

he slipped up this once. it needn’t to happen again. money. he does his jobs for money—when he obtains the money. he doesn’t kill his targets for the sake of others, for the protection of others.

he doesn’t kill for love.

toji wishes that all of this had never happened, because he knows that his heart will lead him back to you at the end of the day. he knows he won’t leave once he cleans up the mess downstairs. he’ll come right back to you.

and you have faith in that. you trust this stranger whom had practically saved your life with just one shot.

“i don’t know how to repay you.. thank you.” you manage to mutter through shallow breaths. you stare at the back of toji’s head as he makes his way to the door. he stops in his tracks to reply to your comment.

he stands still at the doorway and looks over his shoulder at you—the scarred corner of his lips twitching;

“prepare the money. tha’s how you can repay me.” toji replies and you don’t know if he’s joking or being serious because of that little grin on his face. a breathy chuckle follows and then the assassin disappears.

the door closes and you’re left alone in this space. left alone in the silence of the home that had treated you as its prisoner. you remember how your husband used to lock you up in your bedroom whenever you had done something to piss him off; taking away your freedom by keeping you in a room.

now it’s yours—your life is yours. you’ve fully gained your freedom back and can decide what to do for yourself. it seems like a foreign situation, a foreign world, a foreign concept; you can now actually do whatever your heart desires. without any restraints.

“what is a successful marriage?”

well, to you, it’s one with a satisfactory ending.

🏷️ : @satoruhour @squicksquak @omgeto @xmintpie @cursingtoji @obsidiannero @elmoees @x1aosg1rl @fushironi @ceceher @ajax1230 @toji-is-hot @jayugh @rinshoe @sligerate @satoryaa @luveblad3 @happystrawberrytyrant @ezraiix

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #toji x you #jjk fic #jjk x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader #i tried my best :#:(…

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lostfracturess · 3 months

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Hey! I really liked the fun facts about Geto from s&c, and I was wondering if you could do some headcanons about him? 👉👈

professor!geto headcanons sfw + nsfw (based on this fic)

sfw

x professor!geto who has this whole coffee ritual. like specific beans. perfect grind, even monitors the temperature. don't mess with it unless you want to face a angry, sleep-deprived neurosurgeon.

x professor!geto who has a resting face that can be misinterpreted as perpetually annoyed. this often makes new interns stumble over their words.

x professor!geto who isn't overly verbal with affection, but he always shows it with little touches and acts of service. whether it's making you a cup of tea just the way you like it or reaching out to hold your hand as you walk together.

x professor!geto who has a fiercely protective side when it comes to you. it's not overbearing, but he does keep a constant watchful eye to make sure you're safe. also he's not the jealous type.

x professor!geto who's humor is so dry you can't tell if he was joking or straight-up insulting you.

x professor!geto who owns a boat and is a surprisingly good sailor. no clue where he learned, though.

x professor!geto who has a hidden emergency stash of dark chocolate in his office, specifically for those days when gojo is being especially annoying.

x professor!geto who wasn't quite the manwhore like gojo during his university days, but let's just say he had his fair share of women also.

x professor!geto who is actually a slightly better basketball player than gojo. gojo would die before admitting it, but geto likes to tease him about it sometimes.

x professor!geto who drives like a maniac who definitely stole the car. everyone who's ridden with him swears they'll never do it again.

x professor!geto whose nicotine addiction was always bad, but got worse when he started his residency. also he considered gynecology for his residency for a hot second lol.

x professor!geto who is great listener and loves having deep conversations with you.

x professor!geto who absolutely adores it when you run your fingers through his hair. he'll lean into your touch with a soft sigh and close his eyes.

x professor!geto whose surgeon hands are surprisingly smooth, with super long and kinda thick fingers, but still a little rough in places. he's also got some scars on them.

x professor!geto who always has faint shadows under his eyes from those crazy-long hospital shifts.

x professor!geto who has perfect teeth. that's just a fact.

x professor!geto who knows he's good-looking and has a quiet confidence about it.

x professor!geto who keeps a sketchbook filled with precise anatomical studies. he's actually really good at drawing. sometimes he'll secretly sketch you.

x professor!geto who really understands the power of a lingering touch. a hug held just a bit too long, a casual brush against your arm. and he'll drive you crazy with it.

x professor!geto who is all about efficiency. he always goes the quickest, most logical route. also he can't stand fake niceties or small talk. give it to him straight, even if it's a little harsh.

x professor!geto who is very good at reading people and understanding their emotions.

x professor!geto who acts like he hates memes, but he's got a hidden folder filled with the most ridiculous ones.

x professor!geto who does crossfit and, unlike gojo, actually sticks to a strict workout routine. that's also why he's way more built.

x professor!geto who dragged gojo into rehab. twice. but it was in vain.

x professor!geto who is gojo's doctor, and gojo is his. they never let anyone else treat them unless absolutely necessary. they know each other's whole medical history, even the embarrassing stuff.

x professor!geto who will always give you the "i'm so proud of you" kisses after an accomplishment, big or small, he celebrates it with a kiss.

nsfw

x professor!geto who will think about you when he's alone, doing his thing.

x professor!geto who will treat you like a princess in public, but once you're home, he's all about tying you up and having his way with you.

x professor!geto who loses all sense of sanity if you wear lacy lingerie or stockings under your clothes. he's all in. just give him the signal, and he'll find a private spot to help you out of them.

x professor!geto whose not one to rush. he wants to make sure you're all worked up and ready for him before anything else. he rarely skips foreplay.

x professor!geto who will interlock his fingers with yours while eating you out.

x professor!geto who is all about communication. he wants to know your needs, limits, and reactions every step of the way.

x professor!geto who, once he knows your limits, will push your face into the mattress, silencing your whimpers and cries for him to slow down. sorry, not sorry.

x professor!geto whose is packing some serious size. he's so thick that he fills you completely, leaving no room for anything else. at first you're a little scared, but he knows exactly how to position himself and angle his hips to slide seamlessly into you.

x professor!geto who is not afraid to try new things in bed. whether it's a new position, toy, or technique, he's game.

x professor!geto who will spank you during sex, especially in doggy. don't worry, though, he's all about the aftercare too and will sooth the burn. you deserve nothing less.

x professor!geto who doesn't make much noise during sex, but the moans he lets out are FKN LOUD, sending shivers down your spine.

x professor!geto who is really into oral sex. both giving and receiving. and yeah, he's really into deep throat. there's nothing quite like feeling the tip of his cock disappear down your throat. it drives him wild.

x professor!geto who holds your hair and whispers words of praise while urging you forward until you finally bottom out, choking slightly on his thickness. and he'll guide your head back and fourth. arguing with me on this is futile.

x professor!geto who loves eye contact while you ride him. he'll grab your hips to keep you steady as he sinks deeper and deeper inside you. the sight alone sends shivers down his spine.

x professor!geto who finds it hot when you get a little bossy. but beware, this man won't tolerate being bossed around for long. he craves submission above all else.

x professor!geto who prefers to finish inside you. he also loves to see his cum leaking out of you. major turn-on.

x professor!geto who is into rope bondage. watching you struggle against the ropes as he pleasures you? yeah, that will drive him wild.

x professor!geto who almost had a threesome with gojo once, but gojo messed it up. low-key disappointed, but he's moved on.

x professor!geto who will manhandle you into whatever position he wants. don't protest. it's futile.

x professor!geto who can switch so fast. like one moment, he's rough and cruel leaving you helpless and panting underneath him. the next he's showering you with soft touches and kisses that take your breath away.

x professor!geto who loves spontaneous sex wherever the mood strikes. in his office, in the car, at the hospital (don't tell anyone), you name it. brace yourself for some unexpected action.

x professor!geto who has a stamina that defies belief. bro does crossfit for a reason.

again, i may got carried a bit away. hope you enjoy! (also i never pondered about smut with geto before lol, had to think about it for a hot second) ♡

#symptoms and causes #getou suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto smut #geto suguru headcanons #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #suguru geto #suguru smut #suguru geto x reader #geto headcanons

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rageserenity · 3 months

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It's 2024. Are you still thinking about movieverse!Cherik? Because I am.

For the past several months, there's only been a very slow trickle of posts/fics in the xmcu cherik tag. Let's try to breathe some life back into this incredible pairing!

With one clear winner of my poll, here's thirty prompts for the thirty days of April. (This is a super chill, laid-back event---do these in any order, interpret them as loosely as you like! Create in any medium! Fic, art, gifs, meta, incoherent screaming about the otp…all winners in my book.)

The only rule here is to cherik too close to the sun. Alright. Here are the prompts.

Mutual Pining

Doesn't really even need elaboration! Write that horrifically slow slow-burn. Gif every time McAvoy made insane fuck me eyes on screen. Make a playlist of songs about impossible love.

2. Alternate Meetings

There are endless quotes about how these two complete each other in a way no one they'd met before or after ever did. How else could they have met?

3. Erik Has A Telepathy Kink

This is basically canon. Let my boy get freaky!

4. Canon Fix-It

All the times Fox fucked it up. There are endless options.

5. Hurt/Comfort

Put them in that Situation. Put them in that Blender. Break them apart and put them back together ❤️‍🩹

6. Canon Compliant

Draw that missing scene! Gif your favourite cherik moment!

7. Beach Divorce

Make it worse. Make it better. Show it to us exactly how it was. Break it down in a 3,000 word meta. Go wild!

8. Domestics

Sometimes you just want to see them doing normal couple things. Erik put the gun down.

9. Found Family

The real heart of x-men!

10. Time Travel

There are SO many possibilities here. Stick them in a time loop. Give them a chance to change their past.

11. AU

Love a good AU!

12. There Is Only One Bed

Had to get this one in here. What better way to amp up the tension?

13. Genosha

By some miracle, cherik actually did end up together at the end of 2019s trash bag disaster Dark Phoenix. We aren’t making a big enough deal about this.

14. Declaration(s) of Love

Who says it first? How do they say it and when? Have they said it…without saying it?

15. Jealousy

Need I say more.

16. Reunion

These two have absolutely no chill.

17. Soulmates

Classic prompt, had to get this in here too.

18. The DOFP Aircraft

The TENSION here. Break it down for me. How does Charles feel about his injury? How does Erik feel about his injury?

19. Gay Mutant Road Trip

You already know.

20. Body Swap

SO fun when people have superpowers.

21. First Kiss

When? How? Who initiated it?

22. The Mansion

Mansion!content is a genre of its own.

23. Conflicting Ideology

Give me your theses. Who’s right? Can they ever reconcile completely? Write a fic where it drives them apart.

24. Sebastian Shaw

A trope unto himself.

25. Team As Matchmaker

They had to have known something was going on, didn’t they?

26. Cooking

Charles deserves a good meal. Also, imagine Erik using his powers in the kitchen. The sheer domesticity…

27. Hurt No Comfort

Plenty of scope with these two 🥲

28. Growing Old Together

Giving Sirs Ian Mckellan and Patrick Stewart their props as well!

29. Making Up

*pushes chess board across the table* sorry babe

30. Charles Xavier Did More For Mutants Than You'll Ever Know

Rising to each other’s defense. Only I can insult this man.

I will be tracking #revivecherik to reblog stuff! Here’s a fic collection for the same. Let’s get this ball rolling! Please feel free to send me an ask if you’ve got anything to say! And most importantly, let’s all have fun 😁

*I know a few of you preferred something like a gift exchange because of the commitment factor—I’m super down to organise a tiny one for the handful of us! If this promptathon doesn’t flop horribly, we can hopefully do a whole bunch of stuff :)

If you read this post all the way through, please reblog for reach! Thank you! Hoping you participate come April.

Shoutout to @inmymagnetoera for reaching out and helping with this!

#revivecherik #cherik #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #xmfc #james mcavoy #michael fassbender #x men days of future past #x men #charles x erik #magneto #professor x

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rainba · 2 months

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Here it is... The fic where Luka kidnaps both his darling and Kairos.

TWs/tags: human furniture, dubcon, kidnapping, slight depiction of violence, pet play, NSFW, mind break, cucking (?), dark content, use of shock collars

Reader is GN, however, there is one paragraph where the reader is gendered. The asterisk* will mark the paragraph with afab reader, and the one in parenthesis is amab. :3c)

MDNI! 18+

In one previous post, I mentioned that Kairos and Luka do live in the same universe and city– and in a few other posts, I mentioned that they’d never share their darling. If one of them tries to kidnap darling, they’ll just report the other to the police.

Then another idea came up, a way that Luka could circumvent that predicament: Luka figures that Kairos would instantly report him if he kidnapped his darling. So… In order to stop that from happening…

Luka would kidnap both you and Kairos.

Luka’s house is definitely big enough to keep both of you. In the beginning stages, he’ll keep Kairos locked up in the attic while he keeps you in the basement. The basement is much cozier– meanwhile the attic is all dusty, hot, and muggy.

Between you and Kairos, Luka will be much, much nicer to you. He’s (quite literally) obsessed with you, so of course you get the better treatment. He cooks your favorite meals and feeds them to you by hand. He gives you plenty of water and always showers you in attention– sometimes he’ll even place a TV down in the basement and let you watch random stuff. You know, just so you don’t get too bored. He wants you to feel at home–! When you learn to accept your new life, he’ll spoil you rotten.

But for Kairos..? Luka is absolutely brutal.

Luka will rub in the fact that he beat Kairos in “winning you.” He’s simply just the superior man– the superior partner. Luka loves you too much to ever let you go. After all, you're the only person that has ever made him feel anything at all. And he really drives in the fact that you belong to him, and that Kairos will never have the chance to even touch you.

Luka will walk circles around Kairos as he mocks him relentlessly.

“Nobody is looking for you.”

“You’re pathetic. Disgusting freak.”

“They’re all mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Kairos will scream, squirm, and cry as much as he possibly can– but nobody can hear him. Luka is right: nobody is looking for him. Kairos doesn’t have any family. He doesn’t have any friends. He’s stuck in this hell forever.

To keep Kairos alive, Luka gives him his leftovers. He dumps it onto the dirty ground and drags Kairos next to it, commanding him to “eat up.” Kairos is forced to pathetically writhe on the floor and eat without his hands– all because Luka refuses to untie him. As for water, Luka forces Kairos to drink out of a dog bowl.

Most of the time, Kairos can’t hear anything. Luka’s house is eerily quiet at night. And during the day, Kairos can sometimes hear the sounds of children laughing and playing outside, or he’ll just hear Luka casually going about his day as if there aren't two people locked up in his house.

It’s torturous.

Over time, Luka will get you to warm up to him– call it stockholm syndrome kicking in, if you will. Or maybe you already loved him and he just needed to build trust with you. Either way– you eventually upgrade from the basement to his bedroom. And that’s when things get infinitely worse for Kairos.

He’s not just listening to Luka going about his daily routine now– no, now he has to also listen to the two of you fucking multiple times a day. The way you’re moaning out another man's name… The sound of the bed creaking and banging against the wall… Kairos finds himself choking and sobbing as he’s stuck tied to the chair. Sometimes he starts to dissociate and pretends that he’s somewhere else.

Most of the time he pretends that the two of you just got married, and he’s playing out different scenarios of honeymoons in his head.

After a few more weeks or months go by, Luka will grow bored of keeping Kairos tied up in the attic. If he’s gonna keep a hostage, he might as well put them to good use. So what does he do with Kairos?

He uses him as human furniture. Forces him to also be a pet.

You’re horrified as you watch Kairos crawling around the house with a gag in his mouth and a leash attached to his throat. If Luka feels bold enough, he might even have the words “Luka’s Bitch” decorated on the collar. Oh– and it’s not just a regular collar, either. It’s a shock collar.

Any time Kairos acts out and disobeys Luka, he earns himself a shock so powerful that it causes him to seize and collapse onto the floor.

…This entire time, you thought it was just you in the house. You didn’t know there was another person. You’re not alone.

It makes your stomach churn.

And Luka encourages you to use Kairos as furniture as well. Use him as a footrest, use him as a table or a chair– do whatever.

Over time, deep down, incomprehensible and guilty thoughts begin to appear in Kairos’ mind. Things that made him once want to throw up now make him feel… Funny. He’s so happy that he gets to see your face again–!! He’s finally reunited with the love of his life, it’s just a shame it’s under such horrible circumstances.

Kairos doesn’t mind if you use him like furniture. It’s okay if you do it. But he loathes it when it’s Luka who’s using him.

The difference between you and Luka is like night and day. While Luka berates and degrades him, sometimes even depriving him of basic necessities, you always sneak around and give Kairos lots of love and extra food.

Kairos always breaks down and cries in your arms when you show him kindness– he’s so very thankful for it. But be sure that Luka doesn’t catch you. If he sees you being sweet towards Kairos, he’ll harshly punish Kairos and then fuck you right in front of him. Every time.

Kairos always feels so pathetic as he's forced to watch you getting ravaged by Luka. The way you're moaning under his touch... The hot, sticky sound of Luka's cock sliding in and out of you... All of this happening while Kairos is tied down and unable to do a thing. He's so fucking hard, and there's nothing there to relieve him. Luka punishes Kairos if he dares to look away.

In order to gain more privileges, both you and Kairos need to work to gain Luka’s favor. If the both of you prove that you’re capable of being trusted, he might give you more freedom. He’ll let you look out the windows every now and then– might even let you use the kitchen. He's much more open to giving you privileges than he is to giving Kairos any.

Except, of course, he always hides all of the sharp objects in the house. He doesn’t want you two to have access to weapons. And if you try to poison him even once, he’ll immediately make the kitchen permanently off limits when he's not around to watch you.

Also, over time, another funny thing happens. Luka doesn’t really like punishing you outside of sex- he'd much rather shower you in rewards. He’d rather save the roughness and punishments for more intimate settings. After all, he’s trying to earn your love– not make you hate him. So, what does he do instead?

Every time you act up, he’ll drag Kairos by his leash and punish him in your stead. After all, he knows that you care about Kairos and his wellbeing, so he uses that against you.

Oh, you just tried to break out of the house? You tried to poison Luka? Well, that deserves a proper punishment. Luka will tie you to a chair and force you to watch as he brutalizes Kairos. Whips him with a belt, kicks him in the stomach, takes away his food privileges for the next 48 hours... It’s horrible.

And in a way… This would cause Kairos to start policing you, too. Which is exactly what Luka wants. Kairos really, really doesn’t want to get punished. I mean, deep down, he’s absolutely happy that he gets to take the beating instead of you– it’s like he’s your hero!! …In some weird and twisted sense. But also, he really doesn’t want to get punished, so… Please don’t act out.

However, when the months keep rolling in, Luka will slowly warm up to Kairos. All of the punishments will grow less severe– and sometimes, Luka just lets you all off with a warning. It’s obvious that a big change has happened when instead of Luka just fucking you in front of Kairos, he lets him join in on the fun.

Except Luka doesn’t really want to touch him– so, he’ll let you touch Kairos instead. It’s what Kairos always wanted– Right?

Kairos should thank him.

Luka will tie his arms behind his back and keep him firmly locked to a chair, completely naked. Kairos feels so ashamed that he’s hard– but god, he can’t help it. He’s so excited to finally be able to touch you, his darling, the person that should’ve always been his–!

And Luka will make sure it’s enjoyable for everyone. Luka will strip you of your clothes, but he might put you in a cute pair of thigh highs, just for the fun of it. Luka will grab you by your hair and push your face into Kairos’ lap as he utters one phrase, “suck it.”

You’ll do as you’re told– you don’t have much of a choice. Kairos’ eyes instantly light up as you wrap your lips around his sensitive cock.

Finally– his dreams are coming true…!

Sort of.

As you suck him off, Luka will lift your ass into the air and he’ll fuck your tight hole. He’ll keep his right hand on your hip while his left hand grabs the back of your head, lacing his fingers into your hair. He doesn’t care if you can barely breathe– he’ll shove your head all the way down on Kairos’ dick as he bottoms out inside of you. Occasionally, he’ll lift your head up and lean in to kiss you on the lips.

It’s all so hot– but ultimately, it’s all for you and himself. Luka will always make sure you cum, that’s his top priority. His second priority is to make sure he gets to fill you up. As for Kairos? Well… Luka doesn’t care all that much.

If Kairos doesn’t cum? That’s too bad. It’s Kairos’ own fault that he didn’t come undone. But if he does cum? That’s alright too.

However, don’t expect Luka to make you stop sucking. Kairos will be squirming in his chair whining like crazy as you overstimulate him, his body trembling from the sensation, but you can’t stop until Luka says you can stop.

The second scenario is much more likely to happen than the first. The moment Kairos looks down and sees your fucked-out face choking on his length… He’ll cum right on the spot– every single time, without fail.

After the first instance of Luka letting Kairos join in the sex, he earns a lot more privileges. He can finally sleep in the same room as you two–!! But he’s not really allowed to rest on the bed. He’ll be forced to curl up and sleep on the floor– but hey, it beats the attic any day, right?

Luka also takes off Kairos' shock collar. Since Kairos has proved himself to be a good boy, he's now allowed to roam around freely. Hell, sometimes Luka will pet Kairos and give him some praise. It... Makes Kairos feel strange, but in a good way.

Kairos is also now allowed to cuddle you sometimes. When you’re simply sitting on the couch and trying to relax, Kairos will immediately hurry over to your side and rest his head in your lap– desperate to feel even an ounce of affection from you. He might ask you to stroke his hair and kiss the bruises Luka left on his skin.

* If Luka is at work and Kairos knows there’s no cameras around, he might beg to suck on your tits– you know, for comfort reasons! It would really make him happy to have them in his mouth– it would be therapeutic, even.

((And if you’re a guy, Kairos will instead beg to frot you. While it’s a lot more dangerous and the punishment for getting caught is heavy, Kairos is willing to risk it all. Don’t worry–! You can just sit there and relax; Kairos will be the one doing all the work with his hand.))

You know how stressful and traumatizing this whole situation has been for him… He needs to be comforted so badly… So.. Pretty please?

In some sick and twisted way, over time, Kairos grows to like the way things are– perhaps his mind does this as a way to cope. He tries his hardest to find all the positives in living this kind of life:

> He gets to spend every minute of every day with you!

> He doesn’t have to worry about talking to strangers.

> He doesn’t have to work and maintain a job.

> He doesn’t have to cook and clean for himself.

The list goes on. Kairos gains all of these benefits, and all he has to do is give up most of his basic human rights and submit to another man…!

Okay, Kairos still admits that is pretty bad. But… At least he has you…! That’s all Kairos really cares about in the end!

For Luka? He’s satisfied with the way things are. Not only does he not have to worry about Kairos ratting him out to the police, but now he has both the love of his life right by his side and a fun little pet to take his stress out on.

So… Everyone… Wins? In the end? ❤️

#yandere oc #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere fic #luka being a little silly #yandere x darling #yandere x you #inconsistent art style strikes again lmao #wait lol this is my 100th post yippe #luka art

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slytherinshua · 5 months

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CHERRY BOWS

genre. fluff. cheol as a dad. warnings. toddler/parent stuff. cheol gets jelly. pairing. husband!scoups x wife!reader. wc. 1k. request. request by @blue-jisungs: you asked for soft hours n i shall give!! it’s been in my mind for a hot while actually but i’m too busy rn to do it myself… and you’re the perfect person bc U MADE ME THINK IF TJAT 🫵🫵 jealous dad seungcheol :( ofc he loves u n ur kid but give him some attention too smh >:T and requested by anon: i love your svt as dads!! they’re all so cute and i’d like to request one for cheol! a/n. i love love love dad cheol omg :( my second dad fic for him hehe <3 hes so girl dad coded and SOOOOO ADORABLE SKDJKS I LOVE HIM!!!!

“You ate without me…?” Cheol’s sleepy mumble was the first thing you heard from him. He had tiredly trudged downstairs when he had woken up and you weren’t next to him in the bed. It was already a bad start to the day when that happened, and he was frowning and pouting and generally sulking about it by the time he found you.

He wrapped his arms around you from the back, trapping you in the middle of the living room so you couldn’t continue without giving him the attention he needed. You smiled at his clinginess and deep raspy morning voice, but scoffed at how baby-like he was in the morning. Sometimes he acted even more like a child than your actual child.

Eunha was your now 2 year old daughter. She was adored by everyone and constantly doted on. She could be a handful at times, but only because she had started to take after your bossiness and knew exactly how to appeal to Seungcheol. If she ever wanted something, all she had to do was look at them with those big boba eyes that she got from him, and he’d be folding.

He loved her more than anything. Probably even more than you, but you were okay with it. It warmed your heart how much he cared for his daughter. He’d die for her in a heartbeat without a second of hesitation. You were learning more and more every day the love a father could hold for his children. You had expected this attitude when you married him, of course. Because you knew him and you knew how caring he was. He was so filled with love for people and the world, and you were so lucky to have him.

Starting a family had always been a dream for both of you, and Eunha’s birth had been your biggest blessing. It was challenging to take care of a toddler, but you and Cheol always did your best.

Eunha was happily playing with her toy dolls after eating breakfast— the entire living room spread with her mess. It was always a constant of cleaning her toys in the evening just for her to make a new mess the next day, but you didn’t mind. It was worth it to see her so happy, and though it could be stressful to have a messy space sometimes, her happy giggles made up for it.

“Were you playing dolls with her without me as well?” Cheol asked, the pout he was wearing somehow finding its way into his tone. You giggled and he squeezed you tighter out of jealousy. He didn’t want to admit that he missed your attention being only on him, but it was true.

You were getting up earlier to feed Eunha and play with her in the morning. The sleepy morning cuddles that Cheol looked forward to every time he fell asleep next to you were becoming rarer and rarer and he felt bitter about the change. It just wasn’t the same with Eunha. It wasn’t worse, it was definitely better in most aspects, but the free time that he had enjoyed before was being sucked away by the little child.

“She wanted me to be the doctor.” You told him, explaining the dynamics of Eunha’s favourite game. She would be the mother to her little baby doll, and either Cheol or you would usually be the doctor.

“The bed was so cold without you…” He murmured, pushing his cheek against your neck. His skin was warm against yours and you leaned into him more, savouring the feeling.

“I’m sorry. You know that Eunha likes to get up early…” You whispered.

“She should’ve woken me up instead of you. Aren’t you tired?”

“A bit. Eating breakfast with her was nice, though. She insisted on having strawberries with her yogurt since she had seen me eat it like that once.” You smiled. Seungcheol pouted.

“I thought I was her favourite…” He was mostly joking, of course, but slightly hurt. He had always been susceptible to jealousy. Maybe he was a little too greedy— he loved watching you and Eunha spend time together, but he also hated being left out.

Your little moment of warm embrace was interrupted after 2 minutes, a giggly Eunha running up and clinging to her father’s leg. She babbled something about her doll and wanting to get ice cream later today, which you were sure Seungcheol would indulge her in. He spoiled her too much.

You were happy to see your husband’s pout lift up into the sweetest of grins. He picked up Eunha, holding her so that she was resting on his hip. He kept one arm around you; almost if you would run away and leave him if he didn’t. Which was probably partially true since you hadn’t cleaned up from breakfast yet.

“Give daddy a kiss?” Cheol asked Eunha, giggles ensuing amongst both of them. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek cutely and you smiled. Now that Seungcheol was awake as well, the two would be inseparable for the rest of the day— especially since Cheol didn’t have any work to get to.

The morning happily proceeded with a small second breakfast and playtime. Now that your husband was being included in every activity, he was all smiles and giggles. He liked being the centre of attention; you had discovered that fact throughout the years. He was the happiest man in the world when he knew he was making his daughter happy.

Her happiness always came first, even when it relied on Seungcheol’s hair being tied up in pigtails with little cherry-coloured bows because Eunha wanted to play hairdresser. You were almost envious of how cute he looked in them. It was impossible not to love everything that Cheol did.

Along with the bows came matching sweaters with a cherry pattern for father and daughter. One look at the two and you could easily declare them the two cutest human beings in the entire world.

↳ svt taglist: @kangtaehyunzzz,, @yeonjuns-redhair,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @skz-minchan-enthusiast,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @edensgardenn,, @wonwooz1,, @cyberpunksunwoo,, @cienlvrs,, @amara-mars

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strongheartneteyam · 5 months

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Everyone wants him, that was my crime.

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!omatikaya!reader

cw: mostly angst, TRIGGER WARNING for Reader being bullied bad by some Omatikaya girls, the perks of dating a popular boy (irony alert), hurt/comfort, neteyam reassuring Reader, some fluff, a stab in the heart disguised as a fic basically

So, this is just an angsty Neteyam fic inspired by “Slut!” by Taylor to make you guys suffer with me, I guess.

na'vi words: tweng (loincloth), nantang (viperwolf), tanhì (star - term of endearment)

Not proofread.

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Love thorns all over this rose

I'll pay the price, you won't

But if I'm all dressed up they might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a slut

You know, it might be worth it for once

“Slut!” (Taylor Swift)

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You were dressed in your best tweng, one you had spent a long time making, wearing your best beaded long necklace to cover your breasts and even wearing some flowers to decorate your black, silky hair.

But none of that mattered. They laughed at you. The girls you thought were pretty and just so skilled and… popular. Something that you were never able to be, it didn't matter how hard you tried when you were a teenager. You were now a 22 year old girl, so, being popular did not matter to you anymore but it did not mean that having only one friend and having those girls look funny at you stopped hurting. The harassment did not stop there, it also included pushing you, putting their feet in front of you so you could trip and then pretending they hadn't done anything, saying something smelled bad whenever you were close to them and laughing inside their little group, making you smell your arms and your hair to try and see if you were the one who was smelly, just for the sadistic pleasure of messing with your head. You were a strong girl but stuff like that would bring down even the bravest na'vi female warrior.

“She thinks she's from the Tawkami clan, all dressed with flowers like this.” The girls would mock and laugh as you passed by

Your sad big amber eyes focused on the ground as shame and self doubt covered your body and beat you up from the inside.

Yes, you did love wearing flowers, sometimes wearing them in many different places in your body, on your hair and on necklaces over your breasts, but you never thought it was a bad thing until they pointed it out. It got to a point where you just couldn't take that many comments about your flowers anymore, the ones you used to pick up in the forest with a chest filled with joy. It used to be an incredibly wholesome, spiritual activity for you, but at those following days, you only felt rage and pain when you looked at your flowers. Poor them. It wasn't their fault. They were as pretty as ever. But you decided to tone it down and now you only wore a flower crown most days.

It was hard to relax. You could almost never be at ease when you were walking around the tribe, trying to focus on doing your chores as an Omatikaya, because you never knew when some girl would make a mean comment or just laugh at you, leaving you wondering if you looked weird or walked funny.

You tried to convince yourself that it was worth it, that you would get through it to be with the boy you loved, the one you were promised to and was soon to go through a mateship ritual with in front of the whole clan to bond you two together forevermore.

But it was insanely hard and sometimes it felt like you couldn't breathe.

Being Neteyam Suli's, the Omatikaya tribe heartthrob, mate to be was challenging to say the least. And yes, you knew that you were being bullied because he had chosen you. When it all started, you tried to convince yourself it was all in your head, that there must be another more rational reason for you to be bullied by those girls, that they couldn't be doing all this out of jealousy. It seemed too stupid, childish and… cruel, honestly. But even Neteyam pointed it out to you.

“Don't be sad because of those girls, tanhì. They are mad because you're mine and they wish they were in your place. But I chose you because I saw something in you that I didn't see in any of them. You're always honest, you have a childlike light in your eyes and a pure soul. They got nothing on you and that's why they treat you badly.”

He had told you those words one day when you were crying about being excluded from the girls’ friendship groups in the tribe. Neteyam's words reassured you of his love and made you feel better but the wounds still hurt.

Sometimes, the worst part of you told you to give up on him, that it was too difficult to bear, all those nantang like girls scorching you with their mean eyes every time they saw you walking around holding hands with Neteyam. But after a while, when you could think more rationally, you would think about how it would be unfair to him to do that. So what if those petty girls made you suffer? Making Neteyam suffer because you couldn't be brave enough to deal with that hardship would hurt you way more. Neteyam was worth it, he treated you like a princess, like you were the most beautiful, the most precious thing he had ever laid eyes upon. You'd be damned if you threw a love like that away because of other people's envy.

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Taglist:

@luvv4j4ybe11

@criticallybella

@yeosxxx

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miintsprigz · 6 months

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Mercs x GN! reader who drew them (ALL NINE!)

This goes out to everyone, not just my artists.

But yes, all my fic material is extremely self-serving.

Big thank you to a dear friend of mine for helping me with mercs like Pyro, Engie, Sniper, and Medic when I got stuck.

VERY LONG POST INCOMING

Scout

• Well, he IS an artist himself, that’s probably how the two of you first started talking.

• Ran past one day, only to immediately throw it in reverse and go “hey whoa whoa whoa when were you gonna tell me you could draw?!”

•Naturally…it was only a matter of time.

•He was always so encouraging about your stuff, so…after working up the guts, you showed him.

• “Yo wait a sec…you drew me??? I…” For once in his life, he’s at a loss for words. He’s never been drawn—not even a self-portrait. For as cocky as he seems…well…

•He just…stares for a second. Marveling. Is that…really what I look like?

• “Do you like it?” “Abso-friggin-lutely, (Y/N)!!! You kiddin’? I don’t even look that beautiful in real life! And ya know, that’s sayin’ somethin!”

•You laugh, and he pulls you in so fast to hug you that you weren’t even ready. “But seriously…thank you. I’ve uh…I’ve never been drawn before. You did amazing. …you know I gotta draw you now, right?”

•And he does. He’s a complete perfectionist about it—he feels like he can’t replicate you, you’re one of a kind. (He actually does very well! But he’s so shy showing it to you…d’aww.)

Pyro

•Pyro was more of a doodler than anything. They loved color. And of course, you could resonate with that.

•Sometimes you’d draw designs and let them color it in. They giggled all the while…they just adored how creative you were.

•Being the most secretive about their appearance, they’re hard to nail down…even for you. Pyro is most themself in their full gear. You, out of everyone, know that best.

•So you took a…different approach. Abstraction.

•Their hands, the ones that so often seemed to be magnetically drawn to you.

•Their back, the strong shoulders when they just felt content to sit in the quiet with you.

•The brief glimpses you’d caught of their face—split second instances in shadows—those were easy, yet challenging. Their brief sightings made them easy to be abstract about, and yet, it made them harder to actually nail down.

•Conjuring a rather fittingly smoky composition, it had a dreamlike feel to it. Pure Pyro.

•You were only a bit hesitant to show them, but when they did see…they surprised you a bit.

•You could see them straighten up a bit…surprised. They craned their neck a bit, looking closer, gently curling their fingers over yours to hold the snapshot-like portraits with you.

• “Hmmm…” There was a sort of…tranquility to them. So unlike your little sparky fella.

• “Do you like them?” Immediately, the edge of their mask bumped against your forehead—your own personal way of kissing. That was all the answer you needed.

•They couldn’t verbalize it, but…seeing beauty in images of themself. The same beauty they saw all around them…it made them see themself in a way they never had before.

•And of course, it made them fall even deeper in love with you, the one who cared for them so much that they took the time to look so deeply.

Heavy

•Heavy is a very intelligent man, but he’s never had much gift for creative work. Even his insults were kind of just the same thing repeated, when the other mercs made it an art form.

•So he couldn’t help but be enraptured by your artistic endeavors and how much work you put into them.

•He loved to see you covered in your medium of choice, your passion for it. Made him lovesick. How lovely you were doing what you loved.

•If he could paint, he would have wanted to paint that. So he could look at it forever.

•So of course, imagine his delight when you decided to draw him!

• That roaring laugh you so enjoyed boomed immediately, just elated.

•“Ohhhh…look at that! You captured me perfectly! Beautiful!” You couldn’t help but beam with pride.

•“Can Heavy keep this?” “Of course you can, hon.” This warranted a sudden barrage of kisses to your face, which cracked you up of course.

•“Very happy to have such talented artist as yourself to love. But to me? You are most beautiful. In all the world.” Despite being more eloquent in his native language, Heavy could still get you to turn red. “Oh gosh…” “Is true!”

Demoman

•Tavish had always been a pretty sentimental fellow. He really did enjoy artwork, but didn’t talk about it much.

•Once he discovered that you were an artist, he was over the moon. Finally, he felt, he could talk to someone about art without them possibly poking fun.

•He’d never go in your sketchbook unless you allowed him to, but he always looked with such admiration in his eyes. “That’s bloody brilliant. So long as ya luv it, never stop doin’ this. Cuz I’ll never stop lookin.”

•One day, you told him you had a surprise for it. “I dunno if I like surprises…” “Oh trust me, Demo,” you chirped, “I think you’ll like this one.”

•As you held up the finished product, his mouth went agape. Almost instantly, he began to smile.

•“Well aren’t you just the sweetest!! That’s me there???” “Yes, love. I uh, I hope that you like it.” His gaze shifted over to you, and you could see his eye had grown somewhat misty.

•Demo was at a loss for words. He had never thought of himself as particularly good-looking, certainly not good enough to be drawn. And yet. You had drawn him. Drawn him very well. And he liked how he looked. Was that how you saw him?

•“Aw, Tav…you okay??” He blinked quick, trying to keep composed.“Never better…c’mere, you…”

•Wrapping his arms around you, he gave you a kiss, just about taking your breath away.

•“My little artist…ya made me look so good.” You caught him rubbing his eye a bit. “I just drew what I saw.” “Well, ya see a work of art in me. And that? That’s the best surprise of all.”

Engineer

•With how much designing went into his machines, Dell could always appreciate the skills of an artist. So when he learned that you were one, well, that only sweetened an already sweet deal.

•You were a little self-conscious at first about him watching you work. You tended to just work parallel to one another, both lost in your own stuff.

•You’d sometimes stop what you were doing to follow his hands as he put the pieces together, fingers wandering as they looked for the correct tool.

•When the inverse happened though—when Engie watched you work—he admired your spontaneity. You could start off with a total wild card and somehow managed to pull it all together and make it work, in a way he never could have come up with.

•Being rather rigid in his own trade, that was something Dell couldn’t help but be dazzled by. Very smart man for sure, but rather by-the-book. Not like you. He saw genius in the way your mind worked.

•So, one day, as the two of you perused each other’s handiwork a bit, you shyly revealed the piece you’d made of him—hard at work on an updated sentry model.

•His lips parted a little like he was about to say something, but nothing came out.

•“I know it’s a little rocky…I’m not the best at drawing machinery.” Gently, he took ahold of the sketchbook and gave it a soft tug, nonverbally asking for permission to hold it. You let him.

•As he looked closer, a warm smile crept across his face. “Well, well…wouldja look at that. That’s me alright.” He chuckled heartily, but you realized it was from admiration, not amusement.

•“Look at you, (Y/N)! Saw me all covered in dirt an’ said ‘yeah, I can make art from that’. I love it…shucks, darlin’, I can hardly get my eyes off of it.”

•He looked back at you, still all aglow, only to find you blushing to the point of near luminescence. “Aw, c’mon now honey…no need to be all shy. You’re incredible, ya know that?”

•An arm slunk around your shoulders, pulling you fast to his side, quickly pecking the top of your head. “I love it, and I love you.”

Soldier

•Soldier was a brave man, that he was confident in. But even he was self-aware enough to realize he wasn’t the sharpest.

•Anything he’d ever drawn looked like kids’ stuff, so to see what you could make? It blew his mind.

•Jane tried not to stare while you drew—you’d gotten all nervous when you’d caught him, and he was trying to be courteous—but he couldn’t deny how it captivated him.

•“Whatcha workin’ on now?” “I’m drawing those two goofs.” You motioned to the Spy and Scout bickering as they often did. “Why them, of all things?” “I just like capturing the moment sometimes.”

•One day, as you sat while he drilled the rest of the team, you started to do just that. You found it hard not to chuckle just a little as the others groaned and rolled their eyes.

•Sure, you got their annoyance, but you couldn’t help but be pulled in by Jane’s excitement and hot-bloodedness.

•“Seemed pretty lost in your work there, or I woulda asked you to join in.” A strong hand ruffling your hair snapped you out of your daze. “Capturing the moment again?”

•“Uh-huh. I think this is my best one yet.” You turned the book around to show him, and you saw his lips part slightly in surprise before he suddenly laughed. “Haha! Look at that! It’s me!”

•You laughed with him, just happy to see him so tickled by it. “I think I really captured you.” “I’d say so, kid! I’d say so…wow.” The amusement gave way to what you realized was…almost awe.

•“I look…strong. Proud.” “Yep.” “…I look good.” “Of course you do.” He nudged his helmet down a bit with his hand, chuckling to himself. From what little bit of his face you saw…was he blushing?

•Imitating him playfully—it was something you two tended to do, he found it cute—you joked, in your best impression of him, “‘Are you going soft on me, maggot??? You’re red as a tomato!’” “Noooo…oh, (Y/N), what am I gonna do with you?”

•He caught the side of your face softly and pecked you on the cheek. “But…really. Thank you, sweetheart. I think that’s my favorite thing you’ve ever made.”

Sniper

•Truthfully, Mick had never given a lot of thought to the arts before he’d met you. What really caught his eye was the amount of time you put into it.

•Sniper knew better than anyone that holding still, completely focused on your task, being all but absorbed in it…that was respectable.

•The fact that he could leave for work and come back to find you in the same spot? It was just very attractive to him.

•You stopped by to watch him sometimes, very discreetly, on less busy days, although he wouldn’t lie, it got him nervous. He trusted in his own skills plenty, but…you weren’t just anyone. He couldn’t have you getting hurt.

•So one day, as he finally wrapped up, he saw you, still hard at work. He didn’t want to interrupt you, but if it was time to go, he wanted to go. Giving you a light pat on the shoulder, he chuckled. “Almost done there, darlin? Quittin’ time.”

•“Just a bit more…there. Perfect. Check it out.” You held up what you’d been working on: a full sketch of him invested in his own work.

•It took him a moment to process what he was seeing, but once he did, he couldn’t help but be amazed. Slightly slack-jawed, he looked up at you, the faintest trace of a smile.

•“Never considered myself the modelin’ type, ‘specially not out here, but…wow. Ya really did it. And I look bloody good, too!” “Well duh!” “Oh, stop—” Oh, that got him. The Aussie was surprisingly easy to fluster once he’d fully grown comfortable, and you loved it.

•“Awww, are you blushing?” “Just a little…now c’mon.” Taking your hand, he helped you up, quickly hugging you around the shoulders, catching you somewhat off-guard.

•“But really. Great job there. Thanks…it’s an honor, ya know that? To be drawn by you?” “Gosh—” “Heh, now you’re the one goin’ all red.” “Oh, stop—”

Medic

•The good(?) doctor first learned of your artistic prowess when he caught you trying to draw the charts he had on his wall. “Ooh! Very impressive.”

•Medic could do a lot of things, but drawing wasn’t really one of them. He couldn’t resist watching you work, even though he knew it was a bit touchy.

•“Poetry in motion, Liebe. Really.” Simp. “Oh, come on—” “I mean it! You have such precision, such grace…it’s a sight to behold!”

•So of course, when you were working on something that you absolutely would not let him look at, he wanted to see even more.

•“I promise that whatever it is, I will find it as beautiful as you!” “It’s not that, silly—it’s supposed to be a surprise!” He seemed almost sulky about it…it was kind of cute, although you did feel a bit bad.

•Eventually though, it was done—him, with Archimedes on his shoulder. “Okay, honey, you can look now.”

•One hand comes up over his mouth, audibly gasping. “Is that…? It is!!! Haha!”

•You had never seen him this happy, and you couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve really outdone yourself this time, (Y/N)! Look at that…and Archimedes too!”

•Perhaps unsurprisingly, he brings the bird out to show him too. It’s hard to gauge the response from a dove, but the tranquil cooing seems to suggest that he enjoys it.

•The doctor catches you off-guard as he sweeps you into a kiss. “Oh…danke, Schatz (treasure). May I keep this?” “Of course~”

•Best believe this man is showing your art off to EVERYONE who he treats, going on and on about what an incredible artist and person you are.

Spy

•This guy is a man of culture, he can appreciate good art. And good artists, wink.

•But in all seriousness, your attention to detail was incredibly attractive to him. After you’d been together for a while, the two of you would sit in his smoking room and relax together once the work day was over.

•Sometimes he’d be off to the side just doing his own thing, reading, but other times he’d actually sit beside you and watch. There was an intimacy to it, one you took time to grow fully comfortable with, but he was patient.

•So when you were very secretive one night, it caught his attention. Nothing slipped past him—not even you. You sensed him behind you surprisingly quickly though, and quickly closed the project up.

•“Shy tonight, are we? So unlike you, mon bijou (my jewel)…” “Hehe…be patient, babe, it’s not done yet.”

•His arms wrapped around you from behind briefly…gosh, it was difficult to keep anything secret from this man. “Very well. Keep your secrets…for now.”

•But he respected that you didn’t want him to see it just yet, and so he waited.

•“…Okay, you can look now.” In an instant, he was behind you again. It was hard to even look up at the guy right now, but once you did…there was this sense of wonder in his face that you hadn’t seen before.

•It wasn’t often that Spy looked at himself unmasked for longer than a few seconds—he’d almost forgotten his own face by now. For spies, he reasoned, it was better that way. But the way you had captured every detail of him…

•“Oh, what a handsome devil…wonder who that could be…” Was he trying to brush off his own flustering? Maybe a little.

•You couldn’t help but giggle as he almost hurriedly sat down next to you, quickly drawing you in close as he continued to look. Almost entranced.

•That element of intimacy I mentioned before? It was his turn to feel it now. Not even in a physical way, which is what this Casanova is so used to.

•No, the fact that you had clearly just…looked at his face, so intently. There was something raw and vulnerable to it. And as much as he wanted to look at it even more, his eyes were magnetically drawn to you.

•“I wouldn’t have ever asked it of you, but…I always wondered what it would look like if you drew me. I…”

•Glancing back down, he found that he couldn’t even come up with anything to say. The act of love had rendered him speechless. YOU BROKE HIM OH MY GOSH/j

•“…Do you like it?” Before you could say anything else, you were swiftly kissed, and I mean kissed.

•Spy always looked at you with a sort of passion, but this was different. He had never felt so much love for someone. Felt like a young, hopeless romantic boy all over again.

•“I adore it…and most of all, I adore you, mon cœur (my heart).”

AAAAND IM DONE. WHEW. That was fun!

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justabrunettewhowrites-stuff · 5 months

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'Snowflake'

Clarisse La Rue x Albino!Fem!Reader

A/N:More hc's on the way!Luke fics are also wip!

I feel like she would constantly tease you about your eyes twitching in the sun, but she'd also low-key make sure you have sunglasses all the time. Like, "Here, put these on,pretty girl. Don't want you going blind or something."

I feel like she would grumble about having to deal with sunscreen, but secretly she enjoys applying it to your pale skin, all protective and stuff. "Stay still,snowflake.Don't want you getting burnt." because she knows how much it hurts given how sensitive your skin is.

She LOVES stealing your hoodies because she says it's like wearing a cloud. "Softest hoodie in camp, hands down.Almost as soft as you."

I feel like she would totally get jealous if anyone else tries to tease you about your unique traits. She's like, "Back off, she's mine to tease."

Imagine her trying to braid your hair, but she's all gruff about it. "Stop moving,pretty thing.I'm not good at this, but it's better than your hair getting tangled." especially if you had longer hair.

So I feel like she would totally have a secret collection of sun hats for you. "Just wear one,snowflake.It's not that hard."

I feel like she would get protective if anyone makes fun of you.She's ready to throw down. "You got a problem with how they look? Say it to my face."

She LOVES bragging about your beauty to her friends, but she does it in a very smug way. "Yeah,my girlfriend here is a vision. Deal with it."

She deff calls you "Casper" sometimes as a joke.

She loves the moments when you let her be the big spoon. "Yeah, that's right,pretty girl.I'm the tough one, remember?" But you both know she secretly loves it.

If someone ever makes a comment about your appearance, she's quick to jump in and shut them down.Clarisse is fiercely protective of you.

She loves planning late-night stargazing sessions because the lack of harsh sunlight makes you more comfortable. She won't admit it's for you, though; she just insists she likes the stars.

During capture the flag, she's always got your back. It's like having your own personal bodyguard, and she'd get all defensive if anyone even looks at you funny.

When it's super sunny, and you can't avoid being outside, she'll grumble but end up walking with you to keep you her shadow.

If someone asks about your haie,eyes or skin or anything else, she's quick to snap at them, shutting down any insensitive comments. She doesn't tolerate anyone messing with you if it's not her - and she never even means the half-assed jokes she makes half of the time.

She's not the biggest fan of PDA, but she'll subtly hold your hand or wrap her arm around you when she thinks no one is looking.

If someone challenges her or disrespects you, Clarisse is ready to throw down. She's not afraid to assert herself,proving she's got your back.

On the rare occasions when you catch her being extra sweet,she brushes it off like it's nothing. But you can see it in her eyes - she's head over heels for you,even if she won't say it out loud.

A/N:I'll probably make a fic like this soon instead of hc's.I just gotta get an idea on what to write tbh.

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footiehoefics · 8 months

Text

Another one?

Hi! The dad Mase fic won (ofc) so here it is! I promised i would post a fic before I left for trip so I doubt I will be able to post another one on the weekend but I will leave you with this one! :) I hope you enjoy it! TW:non, Angst/Fluff, 3.7k words. My last fic is here! and my masterlist here!

gif: @doinggreat

“I feel like Miles has grown so much since I last saw him” you heard Lauren say to you while she had your baby boy on her lap.

“I know, it’s been so long since we’ve seen you guys.” you told her, sad that it had been way too long for liking not seeing Lauren, Declan and their son Jude. “Jude also looks like a big boy now I can’t believe it.” Lauren smiled at you, placing Miles back on your lap.

It had been a nice evening, you had made the drive down to London for 2 days to pick up some stuff from your old house. You wanted to stay a couple days to catch up with Lauren, Dec and some other friends as well. You felt like you hadn’t socialized with anyone ever since you moved to Manchester 3 months ago.

You had been busy taking care of Miles, making sure you had everything you would need in the new house, unpacking everything and buying a bunch of stuff. Of course Mason had helped you, but when he was at training it was all you. You didn’t complain though. This was the life you had always wanted. Being a mother and having the love of your life as your husband.

It wasn’t the best start for Mason and the team but he had you and he had Miles to comfort him.

Miles was 2 years old and he was the best thing that has ever happened to both of you. In all honesty, he was not planned. You remember vividly how you found out you were pregnant. You were scared about having a child, about the whole pregnancy and especially about what Mason would say. Both of you were not married at the time so having children together was not something you saw in the near future. However, when you finally told him, Mason assured you he fully wanted this with you and no one else.

He was so excited about being a dad. He would read books about fatherhood, he would talk to your bump every single night, before every game and after every game no matter if it was a bad game or a good game.

It melted your heart, seeing him put so much effort and taking this very seriously, not just winging it. Besides the excitement and all the research he did, he also took amazing care of you.

The pregnancy was hell, to put it lightly. The first couple of months felt almost the same as normal. The only thing you felt sometimes was fatigue and you felt like you got tired very easily.

When your bump started showing more and you were further along, that’s when things started getting rough. Puking every morning, sometimes at the crack of dawn. Mason would have to hop in the shower with you because of the dizzy you got. Your emotions were all over the place. Swollen feet. Backache. You felt like every side effect you had read about, you had it.

Mason hated seeing you unhappy some days because of your pregnancy. It was supposed to be one of the most beautiful experiences in your life and it was the complete opposite. Every day you could not wait to pop that baby out and he knew that.

When he had away games, that is when he felt helpless and felt awful for leaving you. You also hated it. You missed him but you also needed him. What if you got so dizzy you fainted in the shower? What if you can’t put your shoes on because the huge belly was on the way? What if you couldn’t roll over the bed to go throw up or pee at night?

There were a lot of things he helped you with and when he was away it scared you. Luckily his mom would visit him frequently and help a lot. You were lucky your friends also didn’t live far away, you could count on them if you need to.

“Is this handsome boy getting a sibling any time soon?” Lauren cooed at Miles and smirked at you.

“Jesus” you laughed at her comment.

Having another baby was definitely not on your list after your pregnancy. The thought of going through nine months of hell again, scared the shit out of you. Especially now with a 2 year old.

“Declan and I are already trying for the second one.” Lauren spoke up again, smiling.

“Trying for what?” you heard your husband say, approaching you, Lauren and the babies in the living room.

“Another baby of course.” Lauren said, looking at him.

“Oh wow, you just openly say you and Declan are having sex all the time?” Mason responded, making you roll your eyes and laugh.

“Oh my god, don’t be rude in front of the kids.” Lauren replied, laughing along with you.

“Anyways enough about my sexual life with Dec when are you two having another cutie like this?” Lauren said, pinching Miles' cheek.

“Wow why are we talking about our sex life?” Declan said right after Lauren.

Lauren’s question made you uncomfortable. You had not talked about this with Mason. You knew he wanted more than one kid, and he knew you wanted more than one kid too. However, after being pregnant with Miles that changed a little, and you never mentioned it to your husband.

“It’s not about sex, I’m asking when they are planning on giving Miles a little baby sister or brother.” Lauren replied, taking the tea Declan had just made her.

“We need to start soon, I don’t want them to have a big age gape.” Mason said, as if it was the obvious answer.

You were still silent, not wanting to say anything yet. This conversation had to be between you and Mason.

“Yea, that’s why Lauren and I started trying a couple months ago.” Declain told you, laying back on the couch so he could get comfortable with his son.

Mason placed his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him. “We can start trying tonight…” he whispered in your ear so only you could hear his comment. You smiled a little, but not convincingly, and Mason caught that.

“Babe, you know what I heard is not good to eat when you're pregnant? Papaya, I read it today.” Lauren said to you. “We don’t have to eat it when we get pregnant again.” You didn’t like how everyone was just assuming you were going to get pregnant again. If someone were to ask you right now, you would immediately reject it.

“Well that’s if we have another baby…” you said whispering the last part. “You don’t want Miles to have a sibling?” Lauren asked.

“I mean, no…I um-” you got uncomfortable again. You didn't want this to turn into a discussion with Mason right and you could see from the corner of your eye he had a confused look on his face. “I just I’m not thinking about that right now you know?” you finally replied. Lauren noticed you got uncomfortable so she changed the subject.

Mason removed his arm from your shoulders and headed to the kitchen to grab a drink. He was confused, he thought you always wanted more than one kid. Why would you change your mind now? The thought of you not wanting more kids was eating his mind up for the rest of the night. He was not as talkative and cheerful as he was 30 minutes ago.

Once it got a bit late and Miles was on the verge of falling asleep, you decided to go back to the hotel you were staying. The drive wasn’t long but the entirety of it was silent.

It was awkward between you both and there was tension. You didn’t know how to start that conversation but you knew you had to. You were also staying at a hotel, it wasn’t like you could just avoid each other. Miles had his little bed in the suite and then it was your space, that was it. If the conversation ended up being an argument, you could not just leave to the guest room and sleep there or cool off downstairs in the kitchen.

You got back and noticed Miles was already asleep in his car seat. You carefully grabbed him out of the car and carried him to your room while Mason grabbed your purse and Miles’ bag.

Once you got to your suite, you carefully placed Miles on his bed, making sure there were enough pillows around him and gave him a little kiss on his forehead.

Still radio silence between you and your husband. You turned on the lamp beside your baby’s bed and headed towards the bathroom. You started by taking your clothes off, putting your pj’s on and then doing your skincare routine. Once you were applying your last product, you saw from the corner of your eye Mason entering the bathroom. You couldn’t read his face.

He came up to you, hugging you from behind. You melted at his touch. You both hated being at odds with one another and giving each other the silent treatment.

“Can we talk?” Mase whispered in your ear. You nodded your head and turned around to face him.

“I’m sorry it was awkward today, I just didn’t know what to say…” you replied looking at him.

“It’s not your fault babe…” he told you. “I’m just confused, I mean I thought having another baby was in the cards for us and that we were on the same page.”

“Mason” you sighed, closing your eyes, dreading to tell him how you really felt about it.

“Have you changed your mind?” he asked you, again confused.

“I mean, I don’t know, maybe? Being pregnant was really hard, it wasn’t like what i thought it would be and what people told me it would be like. I don’t know if I want to go through that again.” you said, with a sad expression on your face.

“Baby, pregnancy was never gonna be easy…and I will be there for you again, like I was with Miles.”

You understood his point, but it bothered you that he didn't get yours.

“I know Mase but, it’s also just not the right time. We just moved to Manchester and Miles is getting bigger by the second. It was kind of easy to cope the first time because he was our first child. But what about now? I can’t just decide to nap in the middle of the day if I get dizzy, I have Miles.” you explained to him.

“My mom can drive up for a couple of days each month-” he tried saying before you cut him off.

“Mason, stop. We can’t have your mom driving every couple of days just to help me.” you said getting irritated he was not getting your point.

He let go of your waist and stepped back a little, noticing your change in mood.

“I'm trying to offer solutions Y/n.” he replied more sternly. “We had always said we wanted a big family, we promised each other that-”

“Yea but people change their minds okay?!” you said, raising your voice a bit more.

Mason walked towards the bathroom door to shut it. He didn’t want your argument to wake up Miles.

“We both grew up with siblings and we both know how much we needed them and how much fun it was, we really won’t give that life to Miles?” he asked you, with more frustration in his voice.

He was right. Your siblings meant the world to you. You always dreamed of creating that little family and your kids having the same dynamic you had with your siblings.

“Do you think I’m so selfish that I don’t want to give that life to him? Of course I want to, but I don’t know if I can go through that again, do you understand? You weren’t passing out in the shower, you weren’t getting crazy mood swings, you weren’t throwing up everyday, you didn’t feel tired all day, you weren’t carrying a 7lbs baby in your tummy.” you replied more annoyed.

“Yea, but I was there in the shower with you, I was giving you back rubs and belly rubs, I was holding your hair up and getting you all the medicines you needed for your dizziness and nausea, I was making sure you were okay every single second of the day. Don’t you dare make this as if it was only you. I understand my body is not the one that changes, but I was part of it too. I was there helping you through everything and I want to do it again because you are my wife and the mother of my son and I love you more than anything.” he said, almost without taking a break to breathe.

You never liked when he snapped at you, it was rare. You felt awful for now for making him feel like he wasn’t a part of it. He was the best help you could’ve asked for. The best daddy and partner. He made you feel like the sexiest woman ever when you were pregnant even though you felt like you were a whale.

“I am trying here okay? We can go to the doctors and ask what to do so you don’t go through the same things next time, we can hire someone to help us around with Miles, Anouska and Luke are our neighbors they can help, there are so many ways we can go about this but you have this tunnel vision in your head that it will be the worst experience of your life. I want to make it easy for you, but you just won’t let me.”

Mason hated raising his voice at you but he wanted you to understand how he could help this time and other people could too.

It made you tear up a bit. You didn’t want to upset him. He opened the bathroom door to go back to the suite, leaving you with a lump on your throat and teary eyes.

You dried the tears on your face and went back to the suite. All the lights were off except Miles' little lamp he had to have beside his bed because he was scared of the dark.

Mason was already laying down on the bed not facing your side. You hated sleeping like this. Not being cuddled up to him. He was pissed and you respected it by giving him his space.

—-

Did you sleep well last night? Absolutely not. Miles woke up twice, and you felt nauseous the whole night. You didn’t know if it was that feeling of guilt or hurt from your argument with Mason or if it was actually nausea.

When you opened your eyes, you could see the sun peeking through the curtains. Mason was still not facing you.

You suddenly felt the urge to throw up. You got up from bed quickly and ran to the bathroom. Your footsteps woke up Mason, making him turn around and see you were not by his side anymore.

He was confused, but then he heard you in the bathrooms and knew you were sick.

He got up quickly and rushed to the bathroom to help you. He didn’t care about last night, you were his wife and he needed to help you and make sure you were okay.

“You okay baby?” your husband asked you, kneeling down and holding up your hair.

“I’m fine, I don't know why I got nauseous.” you replied.

You flushed the toilet and stood up to brush your teeth. Mason still had a concerned look on his face and didn't leave the bathroom until he knew you were 100% okay.

“I’m okay Mase, I promise.” you told him, turning around to look at him.

Even though you were not on good terms, he leaned in and kissed your cheek.

“I’ll shower so we can get going.” he said to you.

You opened up the curtains and woke your baby up to get him ready for the road trip ahead.

—-

The whole drive back to Manchester was not as awkward as yesterday, but there wasn’t much conversation between you and Mason.

You used it to think about everything. You felt like you were overthinking but, after connecting the dots, feeling nauseous, throwing up in the morning, your period was supposed to come in today, you started thinking you might be pregnant.

You and Mason weren’t exactly avoiding pregnancy. You weren’t on birth control and sometimes you didn’t use a condom. Of course there was a possibility of you being pregnant.

—-

“Can you pull over here please?” you asked your husband.

“You okay? Do you need to throw up?” he was concerned now.

“No, no I just need to pee and I’ll get something for Miles.”

Mason pulled over and you got out of the car, making sure you took your purse with you as well.

You did need to pee but you wanted to also buy a pregnancy test. The thought and curiosity you had was eating you alive you just wanted to know.

You bought what you needed, bought Miles a little snack and headed back to the car.

You were already only 20 minutes away from your home so soon enough you would find out.

—-

You got back to your house safe and sound. Miles was awake by the time you got there so it was perfect timing.

You got him out the car seat, brought him inside the house and placed him on his play set in the living room to keep him entertained while you and Mason unpacked everything else from his car.

It was still very weird between you two. It felt weird not talking to him and joking around.

Once everything was unpacked, he closed the door and followed you to the living room where your son was.

“Can we stop doing this?” Mason said out loud, making your head turn to him.

“Stop what…?” you asked back

“Not talking to each other? Ignoring each other?”

You paused for a minute, thinking of what to say to him. You felt his stare.

“I think I’m pregnant…” you mumbled.

“What?” Mason asked, he clearly did not hear you since you said it almost just to yourself.

“I think I’m pregnant.” you replied, this time looking up at him.

He knelt down to the ground so you were face to face. You were sitting on the couch with your hand on your lap.

“Are you serious? Or is this just a joke?” he was confused.

“I’m serious, I really think I am” you said with a concerned look on your face.

He was just looking at you, taking in what you said. What if after last night something changed for him as well?

You started tearing up a bit.

“That’s why I asked you to pull over, to buy this,” you told him, pulling out the pregnancy test out of your purse. “I didn’t know what you would think after last night.” tear spilling from your eyes.

“Come here baby.” he grabbed your hand and placed them over his shoulders so he could hug you.

You hugged him back tightly, tears still falling and gentle sobs coming out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry Mase,” you sniffed and pulled back from the hug to look at him and apologize. “I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t a part of it, and I’m sorry for upsetting you.” he was looking at you with a sad face. He didn’t want you to feel like shit because of an argument.

“I don’t want to disappoint you, I’m scared of having another baby. I promise you having our little family is the most important thing to me, I just felt overwhelmed, I don’t want it to go the way it did before.”

He grabbed your face with his hands, wiping the tears with his fingers.

“You will never disappoint me, my love.” he told you looking into your eyes.

“It’s okay to be scared babe, I’m scared too.” he said, chuckling a bit making you smile lightly.

“If you are pregnant, we go through it together yea? We are a team and I will be here for anything that you need okay?”

You nodded your head. He leaned in and kissed you.

“I’m sorry too about yesterday, I don’t like arguing with you.” he told you once he broke the kiss.

“I know.” you whispered and kissed him again.

“You should take the test…” Mason suggested. You nodded your head and headed to the powder room near the living room. Mason stayed with Miles, watching over him and waiting anxiously for the result.

You came out of the bathroom with the test covered. “Okay we have to wait 5 minutes.” you told him, sitting down again on the sofa.

Mason sat down next to you, pulling towards him so you were cuddled up.

It was 5 minutes of silence. The only thing you could hear was Mason’s heart beat and Miles playing with his toys.

Your timer went off and you immediately got off Mason.

You uncovered the test, “PREGNANT” it read.

You smiled with tears in your eyes and turned around to look at Mason. By the look on your face he knew it was positive.

He pulled you back and hugged you tighter than he ever had before.

“We are having another baby” he said to you.

“Yes we are.”

You were still hugging, both with tears on your faces.

Once you pulled apart, you saw miles just staring at you both making you laugh.

“Look mate,” he told him while holding up the pregnancy test “mommy’s pregnant.”

“Baby?” Miles mumbled

“Yes!” you chuckled. “Here in my belly” you told him, touching your belly. Miles wobbled towards you and touched your belly smiling. “Baby” he repeated, making your heart melt.

You looked over at Mason. He was crying. He had his whole life infront of him.

He leaned in and kissed you while Miles was hugging your belly. “I love you, more than anything” he said to you in between the kiss.

“I love you more.”

#mason mount #mason mount imagine #mason mount fan fiction #mason mount angst #mason mount fluff

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scribbledghost · 7 months

Text

Letter

A/N: I really wanted to expand on some stuff I said over here. It's not a full fic, because it felt right to end it where I did, but I hope you guys enjoy regardless. Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (no Y/N) No warnings required. Word Count: ~620

It’s early when Captain John Price hears his office door open, the sun just barely beginning to peek over the horizon. The steady footsteps that follow once the door closes again tell him exactly who it is without the need for him to look up and confirm, but he does so anyway.

“Good morning, Simon,” Price says. “You’re early. Brief isn’t for another hour. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Delivery,” Simon says from behind his mask as he extends a hand.

In it is an envelope.

But it’s not addressed to John.

“What’s this for?” he asks as he takes the letter.

“Your desk,” Simon replies simply.

Oh.

It’s that kind of delivery.

It’s no secret (amongst the team, anyway) that in Captain Price’s top left desk drawer, behind lock and key, is a cache of similar letters. Two are from Price. Several are from Gaz. A small bundle is from Soap. Inside are contents meant only for the requested recipients, and only intended to be read if the writer doesn't come home. Each one is written with the express desire to never be opened, but with the somber knowledge that they might.

None of the letters in the Captain’s desk had ever been written by Ghost.

Until now.

“I’ll make sure it gets to its destination,” Price says simply. “Why don’t you have a seat? Still got time before the briefing.”

After some hesitation, Simon does so. It’s almost as if the silent giant knows what’s coming.

They’ve worked together for some time, after all.

“You’re really serious about this girl, aren’t you?” Price finally asks as he lights up a cigar. It’s less of a serious inquiry than a request for confirmation - receiving a letter addressed to her has already given him the answer.

“I am.”

“Can I ask why now?” Price ventures slowly. “Somethin’ happen to spook you?”

He drags his mind through their most recent mission, searching for any sort of close call or event that could’ve sent Simon’s mind down the road that told him he’d need to leave a goodbye note for her.

“No,” Simon says simply. “Not really. Just been on my mind lately, that’s all.”

Price nods. He doesn’t need Simon to elaborate, sometimes these things intrude on one’s mind even during more peaceful hours. He knows that all too well. He exhales smoke, watching in the lamplight as it curls through the air.

“I take it you want her to have your tags too, then?”

“Yes.”

The silence stretches across them, neither man taking the initiative to continue the conversation. Price would be content to sit in the quiet until he needs to brief the rest of the team on their upcoming mission, truthfully. Sitting in silence with Simon is rarely an uncomfortable thing, unless the other man intends for it to be. Instead, he takes his keys, unlocks his desk drawer, and stashes the envelope with the rest before securing it once more.

“I’d just hate for her to… not know. If something happens, I mean.”

Price nods again, and again, he understands.

It’s a big step for Simon, having an official tie to someone else outside of base, and Price knows it. He also knows that it’s to be kept as secret as possible, and he doubts Simon will even tell Gaz or Soap unless he has express reason to. The only reason he knows about her is because Simon had declined sticking around after last mission’s debrief, telling him there was someone he needed to see.

“I’ll make sure she’s taken care of,” Price promises, and he means it.

He doesn’t point out how Simon’s shoulders release some of their tension in response.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles

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slutforln4 · 10 months

Text

worship — joel miller.

summary. to believe in god is to commit to his rules. joel miller managed to make you break one of them.

pairing. dbf!joel & christian!fem!reader

warnings. your dad's best friend? more like your controversially old sex buddy! 😂 (reader is in their early 20s, joel is in his mid 40s), jesus freak sucks dick!! (m receiving oral), smut, edging, dirty talk, fingering, lots of religious references, joel is compared to god and reader sorta worships him idk

this goes without saying, 18+ MDNI, i'm not responsible for what media you consume, beware for your own good

word count. 3k

author's note. hellooo everyone :) i hope this fic doesnt offend the hearts of anyone christian who shall read this (... are you really christian if you read this filth...) but i hope you enjoy! completely unrelated note— the happy trail makes me go crazy.

taglist. @cordeliapaugou

“Hey, kiddo.”

The last thing you expected to wake up to was your father and Joel Miller drinking coffee at the dining table. If you had known you’d be waking up to guests, you would’ve at least put your PJ pants back on— instead, you’re just in your pink underwear.

“Uh,” you tiredly rub your eye, “hey, Joel.” Your father looks at you with narrow eyes, so you correct yourself. "Mr.Miller.”

Joel shakes his head, “no need for the formality, honey, it’s just Joel.”

You give your dad a look, a small and proud smile on your face. You’re not fourteen anymore and Mr. Miller is Joel to your twenty year old self. Your dad just sometimes forgets that you’re no longer his little girl.

“What’re ya talkin’ about?” You ask, setting on the kettle to make some tea for yourself.

“Just stuff,” Joel shrugs. “Since when did ya get a texan accent?”

You can see your father’s shoulders slightly shake with a chuckle. “She’s been spending too much time with her mom down south, picking up her accent and all.”

“It ain’t as bad as ya make it out to be, dad.” You roll your eyes. “Besides, it only comes out when speaking to someone else who’s a Texan, like Joel.”

You make yourself the tea, turning your attention to making sure not to spill meanwhile your father’s talking about going to a city a few days away and how he can't just leave you at home.

You can't help but look at Joel from the corner of your eye as you blow your tea, him staring right back at you. His arms are large and you can see the outline of toned muscles underneath that flannel he’s wearing, and God the way his hair is naturally messy, but it suits him so perfectly, it makes your knees buckle just at the thought of your fingers tangled in it.

Was this weird? He’s been your dad’s best friend since you were like eleven, you only met him when you were fourteen and even then, he showed you love as if you were his own daughter.

You wondered what went through that mind of his when he traced his eyes down your body, gaze lingering on your pink panties for a little too long. Did he think this was weird, too? The way he licked his lips when you sat down on the island in your kitchen, slightly spreading your knees apart, made you think differently.

“You okay with that, hon?” Your father's voice pulls you back into reality.

“Hm?”

Your dad walked over to you, leaving Joel to sit alone at the dining table. “I’ve got a work trip for the next week, you think Joel could keep an eye out for you?”

“I don't need a babysitter, dad.” You roll your eyes, taking a small sip of your tea. It’s a smidge too sweet, but there's not much to change now.

“I know, I know,” he sighs. “But you know how there's these girls on TV? The one’s going missing?” You nod, hesitantly. “I don't want to see you on TV, honey. Joel was gonna stay with us anyway, since he’s visiting.”

You think it over, silencing the butterflies in your tummy. “Okay, fine. Just promise he ain't a big ol’ grump like Sarah said he was.” You laugh and he pinches your cheek. “Good luck at work, dad.”

“Be a good girl, alright?”

You watch your dad’s car pull out of the driveway, waving goodbye to him. He goes on trips like these often, but they take place conveniently when you’re visiting your mother, so it's weird being home alone.

Except, you’re not home alone. Joel’s here.

The same Joel who was sitting in your dining room a few hours prior and watching you in your underwear like a predator hunting its prey. Much like the hunting nonsense Joel is watching, as he’s sprawled out on the couch.

You walk past him and up into your room, leaving a slight gap between the door and doorframe. You have college stuff to catch up on, so you open up your computer and open up your assignments.

About twenty minutes in, halfway through an essay about human evolution and what difference it made to their psychology, you hear a knock on your door.

You turn around and see Joel’s head peeking into your room, eyes scanning it as if he won't be checking up on you for the next week. “Hey, kid. I ordered pizza, should be delivered in half an hour.”

“Oh,” you swallow dryly. “Alright, I’ll be down then.”

“Ya alright?”

“Mhm, just doin’ some college work.” You smile softly. “I’ll be done until the pizza’s here.”

Joel nods, and you get the feeling that there's something more he wants to say, but he’s holding back. Before you can ask, he’s halfway down the stairs.

Another twenty minutes pass and you’re done with the essay. You jog down the stairs, your loose shorts bouncing along with you. Joel’s in the kitchen, pulling out a couple plates when you walk in. “Hey, I was just boutta call ya.”

“What kinda pizza did you get?” You ask, watching as he opens the box to reveal a cheesy, pepperoni pizza. “Nice,” you smile up at him.

He hands you a plate with a slice in the middle of it. “So, how’s college?”

You shrug, taking a bite of the pizza. “It's fine. Not much is fun ‘bout it.”

Joel chuckles. “Yeah, I remember my college days. I was rowdy back then. Unlike you. Goody two shoes, eh?” He raises a brow in your direction and you feel the butterflies blooming in your stomach again.

“I guess so.” You smile, softly. “I got a naughty side to me, ya know.” You notice the way Joel’s lip quirks up at the side, as if he’s satisfied with your answer.

“Yeah?” He locks his eyes with yours, the gaze alone making your knees buckle. Good thing you’re sitting on the kitchen island or else you’d be a melted puddle by his feet. “I guess all good girls are bad girls, in some ways.”

“Mhm, exactly that.” you set your plate down and bite your bottom lip, palms resting on the surface you’re sitting on. “I’m a good girl for the most part.”

“I know ya are,” he smiles at you and follows you to the dining room, where you sit and eat together, catching up since the last time he saw you. He tells you about his daughter and how she’s getting married soon. You tell him about your college major and plans after you graduate, which intrigues him more than anything.

The strong gaze from a much older man is more than enough to make a girl like you flustered.

Joel noticed the red rush to your cheeks, the way your eyes didn't meet his for the rest of the meal, and the way your fingers fiddled with each other.

Joel asks if you still go to church, and you nod. You know that he asks this to know if you still worship the Lord enough to not give into the sin. “Do you?”

Joel shakes his head. “Haven’t been to church in years. Don’t trust God no more.”

“I’m sure there's still a part of you that loves God, no?” You ask. “The good Lord wants us to worship him, and that’s what we should be doing.”

When Joel doesn't answer, instead looking at you with a crease between his brows, you get up with your plate and go wash it in the sink. Washing dishes has gotta be your least favourite chore, so you’ve learnt to adapt and get over it, and that is by occupying the rest of your body as your hands work on the dish.

Meaning that you hum some sorta song while swaying your hips along to it.

You can’t hear Joel coming into the kitchen, so you continue swaying your hips in those shorts of yours, as you mumble the lyrics to whatever song you’re thinking about.

It’s only when you feel a hand on your waist and his face close to your ear, that you realise Joel is there. He leans into your ear, pressing himself against you. You can feel his erection against the thin material of your shorts, causing a damp spot form in your underwear.

“You enjoyin’ yourself, sugar?” He whispers, his hand sliding down from your waist and pressing on your belly. “You enjoy teasin’ me, hm?”

“Teasing? I wasn't- I-”

Joel chuckles. “Don’t think I didn't see ya starin’ at me this mornin’. Spreadin’ your pretty little legs for me, hm?” You feel his fingers slide down under the waistband of your shorts, getting dangerously close.

Joel’s fingers ghost over your clothed clit and you jolt back at the feeling, accidentally rubbing yourself up against his erection again. His pointer finger trails down from your clothed clit and to the dampness in your underwear.

“You said you’re a saint, hm? Gettin’ so wet for me,” he kisses on your neck. “Ain’t that a sin, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “It’s just… Fuck,” his fingers pull the waistband of your underwear up, making way for them so slide between it. His pointer finger teases your clit, earning more whimpers from you.

“It’s just what, honey?”

“It’s just human nature.” You stifle a gasp when his finger pushes into your core, gathering some of your wetness before dragging up to your clit. He starts rubbing slow circles on your clit, kissing on your neck and grinding his dick against your ass. A moan leaves your lips and you feel him smirk against your neck.

“Human nature, hm?” He mumbles. “Will it be human nature when I bend ya over the sink and fuck you like the little slut ya are?”

You whimper at his words, his finger applying pressure to your clit as he twirls it. “No, Joel, we should-... We should stop.” You contradict your own statement by arching your back and rubbing up against his hard cock, when his middle finger teases your hole.

“If ya want me to stop, why are ya grinding on my cock, hm?” His other hand grabs your jaw and turns your face to him, tears already threatening to spill at the feeling of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. Joel gets so close to your lips that he might just kiss you, and his fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace that’ll for sure make you cum, and when you think he’ll let you spill all over his fingers… He pulls away.

His hand is no longer on your soaked pussy and his lips are no longer mere inches away from your lips. You’re left dumbfounded, standing there by the sink.

You follow him to the living room. “What was that?”

Joel shrugs. “Ya wanted to stop, so I stopped.”

“Yes, but-” you groan, annoyed. He sits down on the couch, immediately manspreading and doing nothing about his erect cock as he turns on the TV and crosses his arms behind his head. You look down at his lap, at his thighs and the way his arms look in that tight t-shirt of his. Fuck, how badly you want that cock twitching inside of you.

But it goes against your religion and you’re not willing to sacrifice it for him, or his masculine bliss that would surely turn a girl like you into a woman.

Your feet work faster than your mind and all of a sudden you’re standing between his legs, tugging off your shorts and panties. Joel’s eyes widen when you sit down, hands propped up against his chest, and begin rubbing yourself against his thigh. After a few moments, your waist is embraced by his large hands and he’s guiding you.

There’s already a wet spot on his jeans, and Joel smirks at the sight. “Ain’t you a lil’ sinner, hm?”

“N-No.” You say, firmly, as his hands guide you to continue riding his thigh.

“The Good Lord wants us to worship in a different way, sometimes.” Joel says, his lips on your jaw, sending a trail of kisses down to your neck. He gently bites the skin and sucks on it, leaving his mark on you.

“Fuck,” you moan as you near your orgasm. You feel your clit throb against the material of his jeans and he feels it, too. His hands find your clit and rub it as you continue riding his thigh, his eyes not leaving your face. He watches as your face contorts into a look of pleasure, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Let go, baby,” he praises. “Let go.”

You feel yourself grip onto his arm, nails digging into his skin as you cum all over his jeans, a loud moan erupting when you do.

“Naughty, naughty girl you are, hm?” He smirks when you gladly take his soaked finger into your mouth, sucking it off. Joel’s eyes are half-lidded and lustful, making you feel butterflies. “Be a good girl and go clean yourself up.”

“But what about…” You point to the bulge in his jeans. You’re such a sweetheart, Joel thinks, as his fingers pry open your mouth. He puts his thumb into your mouth and you suck on it, as he undoes his belt with one hand. Joel’s finger pushes back the waistband of his boxers and your eyes widen at his dick as it springs up and hits Joel’s belly.

He pulls his thumb out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting it to your lips. He spreads it on his tip, mixing in with the pre-cum, before he taps it against your lips.

You open your mouth and he pushes the tip past your lips, going slightly deeper into your throat with every second. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek as he continues guiding his cock down your throat. When he hits the back of it, you gag and he pulls it out immediately. “We don't gotta do anythin’ you don't want to, darlin’.”

“I want to do this for you,” you mumble, licking your lips. The taste of his precum enters your mouth and you feel yourself slipping into the sinful path of lust.

When Joel’s eyes meet yours, and the change from a soft gaze to something lustful made his dick twitch in his hand.

“Alright, then open up, sweetheart,” he puts his dick up to your lips again.

You part your lips, he slips inside, every prayer and holy word dissolves on the tip of your tongue. He tastes like sin and clandestine pleasure, such God would not approve of. But you don't care. With every inch he enters your mouth, you feel yourself fluttering and all those butterflies in your stomach blooming into some new release.

The sounds Joel makes are enough for you to consider this a new type of worship, just like Joel said. His moans could easily suffice the worship of God and you wouldn't mind.

When you feel him twitch, a moan erupts from your throat and rumbles through your mouth. Joel moans your name, thrusting himself deeper into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag, all while you’re whimpering and tears are rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m ‘bout to come, baby,” he warns you, but you surprise him by keeping his dick in your mouth. Your hand comes up to stroke the base of his cock, adding that last bit of pleasure before you feel his hotness release down your throat. He pulls it out, a few strings of cum landing on your lips. He brings his thumb up to clean it, but you lick your lips clean with a devilish smile on your face.

The salty sweetness he released slides down your throat like it's holy water. When Joel’s fingertips wipe away the tears from your eyes, you’re kissing on his palms and mumbling sweet nothings.

Joel sits you in his lap after he stuffs it back into his pants, his hands on your thighs as you straddle him. His gaze is on your face, memorising every detail of it as if he were to forget it as soon as he closed his eyes.

The fiery touch of his makes shockwaves erupt on your skin, making their way to your brain and multiplying that fuzzy feeling in it.

“Go clean up,” he says, his lips placing tender kisses on your neck. In all honesty, you’re content right then and there. You nuzzle your head in the crook of his neck, drawing circles on his revealed collarbone with your finger. “Ya want to cuddle?”

“Mhm,” you hum against his neck. “All this worship’s made me tired.”

Joel laughs at your little joke. “‘M sure it has, baby.” He kisses the top of your head and caresses your back, as gentle as you felt God’s word. You could get used to this— the slow and gentle worship, one that you don't have to be forced into.

You could stop going to church and instead kneel in front of Joel, the hardwood floor imprinting on your knees as you two’s moans replace every prayer.

Joel’s strong arms pick you up and he carries you upstairs, opening the door to your bedroom. When he sets you down, you tug on his bicep. “Lay with me.”

“Anythin’ ya want, baby,” he hums, pulling the covers over the both of you as he lays down next to you. His arms hug your waist and you put your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. This is as close as you'll ever get to heaven— the strong smell of Joel’s cologne, his arms warming your body and heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

You wrap your arms around his torso, pulling him tighter to yourself as sleep overruns your body. “Goodnight, Joel.”

Joel’s lips press to your forehead and he caresses your hair. You both know how wrong this is, but God, you can't stop. Joel is so gentle with you, in his touch, in his words, you feel like he’s actually treating you like you deserve to be treated. And he doesn't regret it one bit. He would do it all over again.

He doesn't reject the words that come out of his lips, because he knows they’re true.

“I worship you, princess. Sleep tight.”

#tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #smut #tlou joel #joel miller fluff #joel miller x fem

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lovebugism · 11 months

Note

I would love to request a drabble for punchy x Steve where maybe they're hanging out together with the group for the first time and punchys a little nervous to see how they'll react to see seeing as her whole vibe is so different from every other of Steves exes basically lol

i had so much fun with this request!! hope you like it, anon! from the punchy x steve universe — the one where steve comforts you when you're too scared to tell his friends about your relationship (1.2k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Steve’s been waiting all night to kiss you.

He knew inviting the whole gang over for a swim would put a wrench in his plans to love on you all night, but he didn’t think it would be this hard. Not holding you feels a little like a knife in his side. It hurts worse than every beating he’s ever taken, combined.

So he doesn’t waste a second to sneak out behind you when you leave for a smoke break. He waits exactly five minutes before following you out through the front gate. He finds you sitting on the hood of your car — a pretty little thing in all black sat upon a rusted tin can.

You’re wearing a knit coverup over a one-piece bathing suit. It's about three sizes too big for you. The puffy sleeve falls to your elbow when you take a drag of your cigarette, then crawls back up to your wrist when you flick the end of it. The staunch smell of nicotine contrasts with the warmer scent of a dewy summer night.

“Think I can bum a smoke from you… buddy?” Steve asks when he climbs the hood to sit next to you.

The nickname is so obviously pointed. You laugh, high and airy. Smoke billows from your lips as you giggle.

Dustin asked if you were dating earlier that night — deep blue eyes twinkling with hopeful embers you hated to snuff out. “Sorry, kid, but we’re not dating,” you fibbed in response, patting Steve on his shoulder. “We’re just a couple of best buds, aren’t we, bab— I mean, Steve?”

It wasn’t your best work by any means, but it got everyone off your back. That was all you really wanted to do, anyway.

“Always, Stevie,” you singsong as you pass him the lit cigarette between your fingers.

“Think it would be too much to ask for a kiss, too?” the boy wonders with raised brows and sparkling honey eyes.

You melt.

“Never,” you hum with a shake of your head, already gravitating towards him. You had a tendency to do that a lot — to drift his way like he was a magnet compared to the metal of you. He welcomes you just the same, pressing his mouth to yours like his lips were made to do it.

The kiss is chaste and innocuous, gentle with the makings of a man who’s wanted to kiss you for several agonizing hours.

Your lips click in protest when they part. He smiles as he watches your heavy eyes flutter slowly open. You’re met with his pretty pink lopsided smile. “Think we should tell ‘em tonight?”

You lean away from him, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth as you ponder his question.

You’d love to tell everyone about Steve, more than just your core group of friends. You want to shout your adoration for him from the rooftops, let it sing across the universe and back. But love was more complex than simple words, and the implication of that terrified you.

After a few moments, you shake your head — lazily and with your nose scrunched.

“What do you mean?” Steve laughs. The sound is bright enough to illuminate the starry evening. It’s bright yellow compared to the velvet blue sky. The boy rests his weight on one of his arms and gestures with the other. “We’ve gotta tell ‘em sometime, babe. ‘Cause if they find out on their own, I’m gonna be the one dealing with the bitching.”

“I just like not having to talk about it,” you confess with a quiet shrug. Your chin turns to your shoulder when you look over at him, meeting his glittering gaze with a meeker one. “I like just being with you and not having to talk about the… gross, icky, lovey stuff.”

“The gross icky lovey stuff?” Steve echoes with jettisoned brows.

“Yeah.”

“Like what?” he deadpans, bringing the lit cigarette to his mouth. “How in love with you I am?”

“Exactly,” you joke back with a feigned disgust.

Steve scoffs out a laugh as he hands the stick back to you. Smoke leaves his mouth in a wispy grey cloud.

You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, but don’t move to take a hit of it. He knows it’s something deeper, then — something more you want to say. You keep it inside and get all in your head about it, though. Your eyes glaze over as you look off into the distance. Steve can read you like a damn book.

“What else?” the boy blurts.

Your eyes go wide as they flit back to his. “Huh?”

“You look like you wanna say something else.”

You blink at him for a moment, then shake your head innocently.

Steve reaches out a hand to nudge your shoulder. A soft smile tugs at the corner of his pink lips. “Come on. Just say it,” he urges gently. “Lay it on me, babe. I can take it.”

You laugh in response. It’s halfhearted, though, and your smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I don’t know,” you sigh with the same barely-there grin. Your eyes turn away from his, gaze going glassy as your stare turns to the darkening sky. “It’s just… The last person your friends saw you with was Nancy. And I know Robin is well up to date with all your other flings, ‘cause she said, and I quote, ‘he certainly has a type.’”

“Well, that’s just Robin,” the boy shrugs with pinched brows. “She’s an idiot. Sometimes she just kinda says stuff.”

“I’m just saying that… I’m not your type, you know?” you confess sheepishly, like it’s some deeply hidden secret. You have no idea it’s why Steve loves you so much — not despite how different you are, but because of it.

“I know,” the boy nods, meeting your timid glance with a bright grin.

“And I’m just scared that… that they’ll think it’s weird. You know, that we’re… together.”

“It is weird,” Steve affirms with a chuckle. “That’s why it’s so cool!”

Your brows pinch. “…Really?”

“Yeah! I fucking love being your boyfriend, babe! And they’re gonna love you being my girlfriend!”

He says it all with wide eyes and pink smiles, so confident like it’s all obvious to him. He makes it sound so simple, smoothing out all your buzzing, complex insecurities with ease.

You scrunch your nose in response. “You think so?”

“Definitely,” he scoffs with a firm nod, then tilts his head to his shoulder. “Well... Robin will be a little jealous, probably. Dustin, too. And Eddie’s already got a whole complex about it, so…”

“So they’ll hate it,” you summarize with a smile.

“They'll hate all the gooey, icky, lovey stuff, sure. But they’ll love you— I mean, they already do. Way more than they love me.”

“You sound very sure about all this, Harrington.”

“It’s impossible not to love you, Punchy,” Steve confesses, growing suddenly very tender. “Everything you do— it’s like you’re made of, fucking— flowers or something.”

“Flowers?” you giggle.

The boy huffs. “I’m just saying that you’re too perfect not to fall in love with, okay? They’re gonna love you because it’s against human nature not to, you know?”

You don’t believe him.

You know he’s not lying, but you don’t believe him.

But rather than arguing, you reach out a hand for the one propping up his weight. You rest your palm along his knuckles and smile. Your skin buzzes when you touch him — Love? Euphoria? A schoolgirl giddiness? You’re not sure.

You just know happiness when you see him, touch him.

Steve Harrington is a happily ever after.

Yours, hopefully.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #punchy x steve #bug's summer fic fest!

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holdmytesseract · 10 months

Note

Another Daryl request bc why not aka I love your Daryl fics so so much 🤍

- a steamy enemies to lovers !! Yn leads a neighboring community (to Alexandria) and they meet regularly to wrangle over the boundaries of the hunting grounds. There always has been heavy sexual tension and one day the things “escalate” ;) …

Crossing Lines

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Daryl gets caught on forbidden ground once again, you show mercy - like you did so often. But this time you offer him a quite... Special deal. A deal he can't reject?

Warnings: the usual TWD stuff, walkers, weapons, this is quite a bit steamy, very suggestive smut...

Takes place in season 6!

Word Count: 3,1k

a/n: I absolutely love this request and the story my brain came up with! I'd even go so far and say it's one of my favourites! 😄 Thanks for this, my wonderful friend! I hope you and everybody else likes it! ❤

Sidenote: It has nothing to do with the Wolves. I just liked the name.

Tagging: @km-ffluv @stitchintimefan @sweetpeapod @loz-3 @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @fuseburner @hotgirlsshareaccounts @in-this-minute

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Hey, Daryl! What are you up to?" Glenn asked his friend; shouting down from one of the guard towers in Alexandria. "'M goin' out," the archer answered; stopping in front of the wooden construction to look up at the Korean. Glenn smiled. "I can see that - but what are you up to?" Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "Huntin'. We're out of 'possum." Glenn couldn't suppress the small giggle, which left his lips. "Yeah, right. Be careful out there. The sun's going down soon." "Nah, got a least two hours 'fore sunset." Even though Glenn knew the redneck for quite a long time already, he was still sometimes surprised and impressed by his skills.

"Alright. See you." Daryl nodded and wanted to walk past the tower, when Glenn stopped him again. "You know the rules," he shouted after him. The archer gave his friend another nod and a low grunt, before he made his way to the big doors; leaving his home behind himself.

Roaming the woods and wide meadows around Alexandria; the archer was on search for something alive to eat. He followed a few trails, which only led to nothing, or a dead cadaver; already feasted on by a walker. Daryl didn't find himself having a lot of luck this evening - at least in the Alexandrian hunting grounds...

Stepping on 'forbidden' land, Daryl's senses were sharpened. Not just because he was looking out for some animal to hunt... Because of the walkers. Sure, you always had to look out for them - but the problem was that he couldn't kill them. Not here. They'd know. You'd know.

The archer sneaked as quiet as possible through the woods; always scanning his surroundings - and yet he couldn't prevent it from happening. A single crack of a twig a few meters away from him announced his doom - and before he could even blink, he was surrounded. About ten men; bow and arrow raised at him and all dressed in the signature clothing he was so very familiar with. Boots, black cargo pants, linen shirts or hoodies. Some of them had fur mantles draped over their shoulders. Others wore a hood. But everyone had a bandana covering most of their faces. Damnit, thought Daryl.

"Drop the weapon!" One of the men yelled. Daryl did what he was told; knowing that he had lost the game already anyways. So, he dropped his crossbow.

The archer's eyes scanned the group then; looking out for you - their leader. But you found him first.

"Crossing borders again, Dixon?" Your voice urged to his ears, causing him to swiftly turn around. You stood behind him; dressed like the men around him. Black cargo pants, beige linen shirt and a fur mantle; bandana loosely hanging around your neck. The only difference was, that you somehow looked more... gracefully. It seemed like the clothing fitted you so much better. Or was it just the way Daryl saw it?

The left corner of your mouth twitched upwards; smiling halfway at the archer. Your bow lazily draped over your shoulder; one hand securing it.

"I asked you a question."

Once again managed your voice to grab his attention; snapping out of his thoughts. He subtly cleared his throat and lifted his gaze to meet your stunning Y/E/C eyes, before he shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't seein' any borders, nor yer name scarified in any of the trees."

It had been the wrong answer. Daryl knew as soon as a man stepped out of the circle behind you; marching with big steps towards you and him. The man had his bow secured on his back and drew a gun instead. He walked past you and aimed the weapon at Daryl; ready to pull the trigger - but you stopped him. Much to Daryl's surprise.

"Leave it, Isaiah." You addressed your right-hand-man. Isaiah gave the archer a death glare, but listened to his leader, of course, and withdrew the gun, engaged the safety and placed it back in its place on his weapons belt. He even took a few steps back. Nevertheless, rested Isaiah's hand on the gun; ready to defend you. If necessary. "It's alright. Mr. Dixon just likes breaking rules. Nothing new, is it?" It wasn't by far the first time that they found the archer within their hunting grounds. Daryl quite liked to... expand his hunting trips. Of course, they didn't catch him every time, but often enough to know.

Daryl just grunted and scoffed. "Rules ain't existing in this world anymore." You lifted an eyebrow, before you started to shake your head. "Ahh this is such a shame," you stated; beginning to circle the archer like a hunter its prey. "Truly. How many more times do we need to explain to you how the shots get called around here, until you finally understand it, huh?" Daryl answered nothing, just clenched his jaw.

"Look, Daryl..." You clearly put the emphasis on his name. "Our communities live in peace together. We agreed to respect one another and when the opportunity occurs, even trade things. But nothing more. We are not crossing your paths and you are not crossing our paths - which includes the hunting grounds as well. You can ask Rick if you don't believe me..." You shrugged your shoulders and continued to circle him. "We have absolutely no problem - but..." You stepped closer; invading his private space and whispered lowly into his ear: "If you keep breaking the rules, we might have a problem."

At your words ran a shiver down Daryl's spine. The problem was, that he couldn't tell if it was out of respect - or arousal. And it scared the very tough man quite a bit.

He could see from the corner of his eyes, how you stepped away again and turned to your men. "Let's call it a day." Everyone withdrew their weapons from Daryl and started to move.

Then you gave Isaiah and Yosh a nod. They knew exactly what to do. Walking towards Daryl, they pushed the archer forwards; into the direction in which the other men were heading. Daryl turned and gave them both a death glare; ready to jump at them and fight - but he knew better than that. He wasn't stupid. He knew when he had lost a game. And this one was already lost a long time ago.

You walked past him; following the group. "You're coming with us. Be our guest." The archer grunted. "What if I don't wanna?" You turned to face the man, while walking backwards. He's very sassy today, you thought. "You're not refusing the offer of a lady, will you? Come on. I have something to discuss with you."

And so, Daryl followed you - wordless and without a fight. He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance. Not against you anyway - and he was clearly outnumbered.

About fifteen minutes later and walking constantly through the thicket of the forest, you, Daryl and the rest of the group reached the community. It was hidden within the trees, on a large clearing. High, thick walls made out of wood marked the outline; strengthened by thick metal tiling. Some would say it looked a bit like the Hilltop, but there was clearly something special about it. Daryl's eyes widened as he saw it. He's never been at their 'camp'. Only met them outside and in the woods. The walls were surrounded by a wide, deep pit. A deep pit which reached around the whole camp - as it seemed. The entrance was only reachable through a drawbridge. Like a castle, taken straight out of the Middle Ages. The archer shook his head. That was surreal. Impossible.

Before he could think more about it, he received another shove, causing him to stumble on the drawbridge. Together with everyone else, he walked through the big doors and behind the safety of the huge walls - and pit. You walked beside him and gave him a smug smile; as he looked around, stunned.

"Welcome to the Wolf's Pit, Daryl."

The archer's eyes widened in astonishment as he took in the scenery in front of him. The place bustled with people. Women, men, children. Small, wooden houses soaring everywhere. Most of them were finished; some of them not. Daryl was also able to make out the small fields with vegetables and crops all around the place. It was stunning. Fascinating. But then he also felt the eyes of several people on himself. Some of them gave him confused gazes; some of them sceptical and threatening gazes. Nonetheless, it was clear to the archer, that they were all asking themselves the same question... Who was he and why was he here?

One wrong move and Daryl would have a big problem - and he knew.

You noticed this as well, of course, and how 'alarmed' Daryl was. So, you stopped, causing the archer to stop, too. You then nodded towards your wooden hut. "Come on. Let's talk, shall we?" While Daryl followed you wordlessly, the other men - including Isaiah and Yosh split up to go their own ways from here.

Your little hut was definitely the most 'majestic' one. Sure, you were their leader. The moment Daryl entered your home, he was utterly impressed. It wasn't super big, but very detailed and beautifully furnished - if you could call it that. The most of it was clearly self-made, not scavenged. The fireplace, table, chairs and several other things. A lot of furs and pillows decorated the house, making it appear very cosy. And again, was this one question ghosting through Daryl's head…

"How were a few people able to build somethin' huge like tha'?" He finally asked; still looking around in awe. You put down your weapons and fur mantle; smiling, before you turned to face him. "That is a valid question, Dixon. To answer it honestly, we didn't even build that much of it." You began to explain, while you made a fire in the fireplace. "When we found this place here, it was more or less a site. Diggers, trucks and other construction vehicles were standing around. Clearly, they wanted to build something big here. The pit was over halfway dug out already. Two wooden huts were still standing; about to be demolished. Just like the wooden fence. Whatever it was they started here, it was never finished. So, we took the opportunity, scavenged the things we needed and build this." You finished; gesturing around. "Quite impressive, right?" Daryl nodded. It was true.

Silence spread within the hut, as Daryl's blue-grey eyes followed your every move. You picked up a few branches and twigs from a basket and threw them into the crackling fire. Before his gaze would stick on you, he averted his eyes again; clearing his throat. "Why 'm I here? Whaddaya want from me?" You turned to face him once again; smiling. "Oh, you know exactly why you are here, Daryl." Again, you rolled his name off your tongue so easily, as if you'd known each other for years. "But I'll explain it to you again." You took a step closer; dusting off your hands. "Admittedly, I don't like you straying around in our territory. We both know that this could end bad for you - which would be a shame, because you are special. You are not like the others, Mr. Dixon. I noticed that the first time we met, and I like it." Your smile even widened, "Therefore, I have an offer to make. One you are freely allowed to decline..." before you gave him a once over. "Or accept."

Daryl looked at you quite a bit confused. "An offer?" You nodded. "An offer." He looked at you for a moment intensely; trying to figure you out. "Aight. Spit it out."

You wettened your lips; holding his gaze. "Go now; never come back and sneak around our hunting grounds. Keep on breaking the rules and risk the bridges we build to burn down or..." "Or?" You bit your lip; starting to smile cheekily. "Or stay; spent the night with me and you'll be allowed to go hunt wherever you like."

For a moment, the archer thought he misheard you/your words. All his facial features literally derailed; blinking. He definitely needed a moment to process this and to regain composure.

"That's extortion, woman." Daryl then scoffed; crossing his arms over his chest and visibly trying to play it cool. You were quite unimpressed from his reaction and shook your head. "It's not. It's an offer - like I said. I'm not forcing you to do anything." "Why would ya offer me somethin' like that?" You bit your lip once more and started to circle him like you did when you and your group caught him. "That's simple. I saw the way you were looking at me. Whenever we met each other. Do you really think I didn't notice, Dixon? You are very bad at hiding your physical attraction towards me."

Your words were like a blow into the gut for the archer. He swallowed - hard; was speechless. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" You teased him; giggling. "It's because you know that I'm right, isn't it?"

That was the moment Daryl lost it. He couldn't prevent the heat forming in his cheeks; a blush creeping on his face. You smiled and stopped right in front of him. Slowly, you lifted your hand and drew a seductive line from his shoulder to his pec with your pointer finger; whispering: "Gotcha."

An undeniable shiver ran down Daryl's spine at your words; your touch leaving a burning, sizzling sensation behind.

You took a step back, but kept your hand in place; fingers started to toy with the lapels of his angel-winged vest. "So, what do you say?"

Daryl swallowed; needed once again a moment to get his brain to work properly again and especially to play it cool. What if this was a trap? He couldn't just cave and give in like that, could he?

"It ain't a fair deal, is it? One night in exchange for free passageway? Seems very suspicious ta me." "Who says it's only one night?" You asked with a smirk and looked up to meet his eyes, before you pressed your palm flat against his chest and started to back him up against the nearby wall. "What if our paths cross more often from then on, because we want them to cross? It's a win-win."

You weren't a predictable person. Daryl had figured that out very quickly - but he saw the move you were about to make coming. So, he decided to took you by surprise and join the game. Before you were able to pin him to the wooden wall, he placed one hand over the one which rested on his chest, quickly grabbed your wrist and spun you around - slamming your back against the wall. Now you were the one trapped, not him.

"Why would ya risk it?" Daryl asked in a hushed, raspy voice, while he towered above you; leaving you no chance to escape. Not that you wanted to escape. No, you quite enjoyed the turn of things. It caused the sexual tension to grow even more. So thick, it was cuttable with a knife.

"Huh? Why? You ain't have a reason to trust me." You giggled and leaned closer to him. Not that you were very close already. "I don't have to trust you, Dixon." Your lips almost touched his as you spoke. He could feel your warm breath on the skin of his face. "I just need to give you what you want," you added, whispering. "So, tell me..." You moved a hand to his leather belt, which was slung around his hips and held his old, tattered jeans in place and hooked your fingers through the loops. "What is it that you want?" Then you tugged, causing the completely stunned archer to stumble forwards; hips clashing against yours.

It took Daryl everything, to not let the thundering moan leave his lips, which had built up in his throat. He gritted his teeth; jaw clenching. It was that moment, in which he realised that he couldn't suppress his attraction towards you any longer. Not after that. He got lost in his own primal need - and gave in. His clouded mind urging him on to make a rather bold move. So, he did. Acting fast, he sneaked his hands down to the back of your thighs and lifted you up; causing a small yelp to escape your mouth. He didn't beat about the bush and crossed the small hut to throw you on the fluffy, cosy bed. He had made his decision - and you knew it.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, you looked up at him, "Thought so." and crooked your finger; making a come-hither motion. "C'mon, big boy. Claim what belongs to you then." And he did.

Daryl stayed the whole night – like you said. And let's say it that way… The night was thoroughly spent.

When the first sun rays of the new day poured through your makeshift windows, a firm knock sounded through the hut and woke you up. You knew exactly who it was. Stretching your limbs, you stood up and tiptoed completely across the hut, in order to grab your dressing gown. "Come in!" You whisper-shouted; not to wake the sleeping man in your bed. The wooden door swung open and revealed your right-hand-man, Isaiah.

"Good morning," he said; closing the door behind himself. You gave him a smile; tying the knot of your robe. "It is, indeed, a very good morning." You had no shame when it came down to him. Neither secrets. Isaiah was like the big brother you never had and best friend in one. You loved him dearly and were grateful for everything he had done for you.

Isaiah's eyes wandered over your body, before they travelled to the bed. "Ah, I see." He stated; seeing the archer's barely covered body. Daryl was still sleeping tightly; laying on his belly with both hands buried underneath the soft pillow, in order to support his head.

Isaiah grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Sleeping with the enemy?" You shook your head; smiling. "He's not the enemy, Ice. He's an ally - just like the Alexandrians..." Your eyes roamed across Daryl's bare, broad back. Some scratches of your fingernails were still visible; memories immediately taking you back to the last night. "...and the man I'd like to keep in my bed." Isaiah chuckled. "I assume you had a very pleasurable night then?" "Then best of my life."

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